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“Amber is a redhead. And later in the book, Diana wrote that her #1 was going to be late, again with that little heart next to the comment.”
“OMG, you think that Diana and Amber were an item?” Brie said excitedly.
“Jason mentioned that Diana was angry because her girlfriend was late to their vacation. But maybe I’m reading too much into this.” I giggled at my unintentional pun.
“Don’t you follow news?” Brie said. “Amber Jones has been seen with the hottest guysandthe hottest girls.”
I wasn’t up-to-date on popular culture, unless it was about popular books and authors. Plus, I wouldn’t call entertainment gossipnews. “I didn’t know she was that big an actress.”
Brie laughed. “She’s an extra. A couple of one-liners in movies, but mostly she plays the victim on crime shows where she just has to lie on a slab and look like a corpse.”
I pictured Diana’s body and involuntarily shivered. “Well.” I didn’t know what to say. “I suppose we could find their social media accounts and see if Amber and Diana have been together.” I considered Amber’s argument with Parker. “Do you know anything about a thirtysomething guy who looks like a trust fund baby? Slim, sandy blond hair, has a dickhead vibe. First name Parker. He and Amber were arguing yesterday. Then I heard him talking to his father on the phone.”
“Parker Briggs.Totaldick.”
“I overheard him telling his father that he and Amber were trying to fix their relationship.”
“Really? Maybe.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know.”
“Have they been here before?”
Brie shrugged. “I’ve never seen them. But we come the same two weeks every year, right after school gets out. When Dad played ball, we came in December—really nice then. I mean, it’s nice now, but June is also the beginning of hurricane season.”
I must have looked panicked, because Brie laughed and said, “They don’t have any major storms on the radar for the week.”
That relieved me. I’d seen too many pictures of the aftermath of hurricanes. I didn’t want to be in one.
I flipped pages on my notebook and started writing names and days. “Diana went missing on Sunday. Amber came over on the ferry with me on Tuesday, but Parker was already here. Do you know when he got here?”
“Monday,” Brie said. “Word is that he made a last-minute reservation and was told there was nothing available. He made a stink, and Tristan freed up a room—they always have one or two for people like Briggs. St. Claire thrives on those elitist assholes, the ones who throw money around and have the clout to break a place.”
“I know the type. But not everyone here is like that.”
She shrugged. “Half and half.”
“I chatted with Nelson and Anja Stockton. They seem very nice.”
“Wannabe elitist assholes.”
“And David and Doug came over with me on the ferry. They were friendly.”
She shrugged. “Sure, I met them a couple years ago. Nice, but Doug has a stick up his ass. Makes sure thateveryoneknows that his husband saved my dad’s career. He drops the name of every baseball player David performed Tommy John surgery on. And talks about their house and their vacations, and I want to ask, what are you compensating for, Doug?”
For a teenager, Brie was not only observant but insightful.
I made a note about Briggs. “So Parker arrived Monday. When did you get here?”
“Friday.”
“And Diana got here Friday, too, right?”
“Yes. We were on the same ferry.”
She looked over to what I was writing. “What are you doing?”
What should I say?
“Come on, tell me,” she pushed. “It looks like a timeline.”