said, folding her hands together as if she were begging. “My parents are throwing a party for us when we return from our honeymoon, and my wedding video is the entertainment. That means I need them back right away so they can be put on a DVD.”
He narrowed his eyes at her and I could almost hear his jaws clanging together. “You’ll get them back when we’re finished with them.”
“Jillian, drop it,” I said quietly. “You won’t change his mind. Besides, the cops might find something helpful on that video.”
“Well, isn’t that special? A murderer on my wedding video. You know what? I’ve had it.” She started yanking the pearl-tipped pins out of her hair. “This whole day has been one big catastrophe. I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into going through with this marriage. I could have been halfway to Florida by now.”
“Hey!” I cried, trying to catch her flying pins. “Your veil will fall off.”
“I don’t care. I’m leaving. Let the cops try to stop me.”
“Jillian,” I said, yanking her hands away from her head, “this isn’t third-grade recess. You’re married now. You have a husband. You can’t have a tantrum and run away.”
“Watch me.”
“Darling?” Claymore called from behind the police lines. “Is everything all right? Did you find out what happened?”
I turned her around, forcing her to face the groom. “Will you look at Claymore standing there waiting for you—his beloved bride? How can you turn your back on him?”
She stared at him for a long moment, her nostrils flaring, her hands clenching and unclenching; then her anger dissipated; and finally, she let her arms flop down at her sides. “You’re right. I can’t act like the child I was”—she paused to check her slender, pearl-encrusted bracelet watch—“three hours and fourteen minutes ago.”
“There you go. Now straighten your shoulders and show your husband what Knights are made of.”
She tucked her loose locks behind her ears, moistened her lips, and adjusted her gown. “I can handle this.”
“Sure you can.”
“Besides, the cops don’t know there’s another videographer”—she pulled me close to hiss—“and don’t you dare tell them. I know too many of your secrets.”
“You wouldn’t,” I breathed.
“Oh, yes, I would.”
Oh, yes, she would. I gave her an outraged look, but she merely turned to Claymore and called in a dulcet voice, “It’s worse than we thought, lambkins. Jack Snyder is—”
I clapped my hand over her mouth. “Think of Melanie, for heaven’s sake. Is that any way for her to find out the father of her baby is dead?”
She pushed my hand away. “Melanie left a long time ago, and Uncle Josiah, too, thank God. What a grouch. He was pulling the whole room down.”
“Did I hear you say Josiah Turner left?” Reilly asked, coming toward us.
“Yes,” Jillian replied frostily, “when the music started.”
“When was that?” Reilly asked.
She shrugged. “Nine thirty, I guess.” To me she said, “Uncle Josiah said Melanie’s baby was sick, but I think they left because he doesn’t approve of dancing. Heaven forbid Melanie should have fun.”
Reilly started to say something else to Jillian, then noticed that Pryce was behind him, sticking to him like glue. “You can join the guests inside the building now, Mr. Osborne.”
“The building is empty,” Jillian remarked unhappily. “Everyone is out here.”
Reilly glanced over our heads and saw the crowd gathered on the wide sidewalk in front of the doors. “Why are those people outside?” he called to the cops forming a barricade. “Get them in and start processing them!”
Jillian watched Pryce head up the aisle, then turned back to Reilly. “Can Claymore and I leave? Our limo is waiting.”
“You have to be ID’d like everyone else.”
“But my honeymoon!” Jillian cried. Reilly ignored her and started back to the gazebo.
The indignant bride spun on her heel and
He narrowed his eyes at her and I could almost hear his jaws clanging together. “You’ll get them back when we’re finished with them.”
“Jillian, drop it,” I said quietly. “You won’t change his mind. Besides, the cops might find something helpful on that video.”
“Well, isn’t that special? A murderer on my wedding video. You know what? I’ve had it.” She started yanking the pearl-tipped pins out of her hair. “This whole day has been one big catastrophe. I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into going through with this marriage. I could have been halfway to Florida by now.”
“Hey!” I cried, trying to catch her flying pins. “Your veil will fall off.”
“I don’t care. I’m leaving. Let the cops try to stop me.”
“Jillian,” I said, yanking her hands away from her head, “this isn’t third-grade recess. You’re married now. You have a husband. You can’t have a tantrum and run away.”
“Watch me.”
“Darling?” Claymore called from behind the police lines. “Is everything all right? Did you find out what happened?”
I turned her around, forcing her to face the groom. “Will you look at Claymore standing there waiting for you—his beloved bride? How can you turn your back on him?”
She stared at him for a long moment, her nostrils flaring, her hands clenching and unclenching; then her anger dissipated; and finally, she let her arms flop down at her sides. “You’re right. I can’t act like the child I was”—she paused to check her slender, pearl-encrusted bracelet watch—“three hours and fourteen minutes ago.”
“There you go. Now straighten your shoulders and show your husband what Knights are made of.”
She tucked her loose locks behind her ears, moistened her lips, and adjusted her gown. “I can handle this.”
“Sure you can.”
“Besides, the cops don’t know there’s another videographer”—she pulled me close to hiss—“and don’t you dare tell them. I know too many of your secrets.”
“You wouldn’t,” I breathed.
“Oh, yes, I would.”
Oh, yes, she would. I gave her an outraged look, but she merely turned to Claymore and called in a dulcet voice, “It’s worse than we thought, lambkins. Jack Snyder is—”
I clapped my hand over her mouth. “Think of Melanie, for heaven’s sake. Is that any way for her to find out the father of her baby is dead?”
She pushed my hand away. “Melanie left a long time ago, and Uncle Josiah, too, thank God. What a grouch. He was pulling the whole room down.”
“Did I hear you say Josiah Turner left?” Reilly asked, coming toward us.
“Yes,” Jillian replied frostily, “when the music started.”
“When was that?” Reilly asked.
She shrugged. “Nine thirty, I guess.” To me she said, “Uncle Josiah said Melanie’s baby was sick, but I think they left because he doesn’t approve of dancing. Heaven forbid Melanie should have fun.”
Reilly started to say something else to Jillian, then noticed that Pryce was behind him, sticking to him like glue. “You can join the guests inside the building now, Mr. Osborne.”
“The building is empty,” Jillian remarked unhappily. “Everyone is out here.”
Reilly glanced over our heads and saw the crowd gathered on the wide sidewalk in front of the doors. “Why are those people outside?” he called to the cops forming a barricade. “Get them in and start processing them!”
Jillian watched Pryce head up the aisle, then turned back to Reilly. “Can Claymore and I leave? Our limo is waiting.”
“You have to be ID’d like everyone else.”
“But my honeymoon!” Jillian cried. Reilly ignored her and started back to the gazebo.
The indignant bride spun on her heel and
Similar Books
