A buzzing sound, and suddenly the lights flickered back on. A smoke detector beeped wildly. The clock on the microwave blinked midnight. Breathing heavily, she scanned the room. Her eyes darted to the corners, searching for a shadow. There was no one there.
But therehadbeen someone.
Hadn’t there?
Or had she psyched herself out, cowering from ghosts that no longer existed?
Her gaze dropped to the floor. The wedding cake lay smashed beyond recognition.
The front door swung open. Gita wheeled her mother inside.
“Don’t worry about the Percocet,” Gita called out. “Her coughing is getting worse. I’m going to start a morphine drip now, but we’ll need to make an appointment to get her seen tomorrow.”
Gita didn’t wait for a response before slipping into the bedroom with Ammi. Hena stood motionless, staring at the destroyed cake.
“Lulu has a dress fitting tomorrow,” Gita said, once she emerged from the bedroom. “Do you think you can join us at the doc— Oof.” She pressed a hand to her temples. “How long has the smoke detector been beeping?”
“Did you see anyone on your way up?” Hena asked, trying to steady her voice. “Anyone out of place? Anyone exiting the elevator while you were waiting?”
“No. Why?” Gita walked toward her—then gasped at the mess.
“I—I’m so sorry,” Hena stammered. “When the power went out, I couldn’t see where I was going…”
“The suite lost power?” Gita asked.
“Didn’t the whole resort?”
Gita shook her head. Hena opened her mouth. Then closed it. Because she saw it.
The knife.
It was embedded in the ruined cake.
The one with the glossy reddish-brown handle.
Trembling, Hena knelt and pulled it free. She took in the metal curve of the blade. The hammered finish.
For a moment, it felt as if her heart had stopped.
She knew this knife.
It was a Shun. Lulu had given her a set for her wedding. This particular knife was supposed to be locked away in an evidence bag at the Broward County Sheriff’s Office.
Because three years ago, she had sliced that knife into the abdomen of a man who had tried to kill her.
“What a mess,” Gita said, shaking her head. “It’s all hands on deck with the wedding. I doubt housekeeping will get here anytime soon.”
Hena held up the knife, trying to keep her hands steady.
“Why is this here?”
Gita stared at the blade, then paled. “I’m so sorry. I must have left it on the island. I was cutting up an apple this afternoon. I should have placed it in the sink. It could have really hurt you.”
“This knife was already here?” Hena asked. “In the suite?”
Gita opened the silverware drawer. There they were. Shun knives. Several of them.
See, Hena?An easy enough explanation. A top-end knife for a top-end suite. One of Lulu’s favorite brands, no less.