Page 84 of The Bridesmaid

‘Maybe some kind of underpinning issue?’ I suggest. ‘Looks like the ground beneath might not be so stable.’

A rumbling sound stops us in our tracks.

‘It’s coming from a little deeper in the jungle,’ I say.

‘Sounds like construction work.’ Fitzwilliam nods. ‘Maybe they’re rebuilding.’

We follow the sound, using the outside jungle track, passing more abandoned buildings. Suddenly, Fitzwilliam flattens himself against a wall and gestures I do the same.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘Take a look.’ His eyes are wide. ‘Just make sure they don’t see you.’

I follow his lead, snatching a glance. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up with what my eyes are seeing.

It’s a huge pit. The width and length of an apartment building. An open chasm of rich tropical soil, with a thick loamy scent.

The pit’s ragged edges are dotted with spade-wielding men, and two small excavators. I count ten workers in all. Streaked with sweat, dressed in grimy construction clothing and heavy boots.

My eyes track to an excavator parked at the edge, engine turned off, its bucket raised high.

Hanging from the teeth of the excavator is a human ribcage.

Chapter Sixty-seven

ADRIANNA

I’m pacing the wooden boards of one of the beach cabanas, while Mark makes successive phone calls. Storm clouds are gathering. It’s my bachelorette tonight, and I’m anxious heavy rain might spoil the pictures. When he hangs up, his handsome face is strained.

‘Leopold says security think they saw two people headed north into the jungle,’ he says.

‘Theythinkthey saw?’ I rub my temples. ‘It’s good to have Dad here managing his security at least,’ I say. ‘But I still don’t trust his guys not to do something crazy.’ I catch his expression. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘The stress of it all is getting to me.’

‘Shall we try to relax on our last unmarried day together?’ suggests Mark. ‘Try out the pool?’

As we slip into the water, I’m feeling better. From here, we can see staff laying out tables on the beach for the wedding breakfast. Crates of publicity documents, cutlery imported from Italy and flowers sit ready to be unloaded. Inside the marquee, staff are at work, fixing ten thousand rose-heads to the ceiling.

I take a breath. Lie back and intertwine my toes with Mark’s under the water.

‘If we can pull this off, we can do anything,’ I tell him. ‘Think it will all go to plan?’

He smiles. ‘I’m on it. We’ve got extra staff to strew the approach with petals when the guests arrive. Chocolate torte for dessert.’

I sit up in the water, beaming at him. ‘You remembered!’

‘Giving you my chocolate torte, the night we met? How could I forget?’ He slides closer and wraps his arms around me. ‘It was worth it,’ he adds, moving his face close, ‘every bite of that dry soufflé.’ He kisses me softly. I close my eyes, letting myself be drawn in, but I can’t.

‘What’s wrong?’ asks Mark. ‘Silky?’

I shake my head. ‘I know I should be feeling bad about her death, and I do,’ I say. ‘It’s more I just have this nasty feeling, even with Simone’s death solved, that someone is out to get me.’

‘Correct.’ Mark runs his thumbs along my torso. ‘It’s me.’

I manage a laugh. ‘Mark,’ I say, my eyes on the organized chaos of the wedding arrangements on the sand. ‘Remember that week we had, just you and me, holed up playing video games?’

‘We’re talking about the best week of my entire life, right?’ he pretends to frown. ‘Apart from when you beat me on Fortnite.’

‘Do you ever wish we could just go back to that? Marry quietly?’