Chapter 4
Ethan came back from his perimeter sweep within twenty minutes, rain dripping off his jaw. His expression was unreadable, but his notebook was open.
"No signs of forced entry. No footprints on the beach besides mine. No boats docked other than my patrol vessel." He looked up. "Whoever killed Ryan Ashford was already inside this house."
My stomach dropped through the floor.
Harper opened her mouth to argue, but Ethan raised a hand.
"I'm not accusing anyone. I'm stating facts." He sat down across from us, water pooling beneath his chair. "Five women and one dead man on an island with no way off and no way to call for backup. Until this storm passes and I can radio the mainland, I'm all you've got."
Nobody responded.
"So," Ethan continued, pulling out his pen, "let's start with the basics. How long have you all known the victim?"
Grace spoke first — her courtroom composure sliding back into place. "Ryan and Lily met five years ago. They've been engaged for two. We've all known him since they started dating."
"And your relationships with him? Any conflicts?"
"He was our best friend's husband," Nadia said flatly. "We tolerated him for her sake."
The words hung in the air. I looked at Nadia, confused. "Tolerated?"
Nadia pressed her lips together and looked away.
Ethan caught it. Of course he caught it.
"What does that mean?" he pressed.
"It means nothing," Harper said firmly. "Nadia's just upset. We're all upset. A man is dead."
Ethan studied Harper for a long moment, then wrote something in his notebook. "Fine. Tell me about last night. Walk me through the evening, starting with the ceremony."
We took turns — fragments of memory sewn together into a rough timeline. The sunset ceremony at five. Cocktail hour at six. Dinner at seven-thirty. Dancing started around nine. The staff departed on the last ferry at ten.
After that, things got hazy for all of us.
"The champagne," I said, rubbing my temples. "Ryan had ordered this special vintage. Case after case. He kept refilling our glasses."
"Ryan specifically?" Ethan asked.
"Yes. He was... very attentive last night." I paused, searching for more memories, but there was nothing — just darkness.
Ethan tapped his pen against the notebook. "Did your husband have any enemies? Business disputes? Debt?"
"Ryan was a venture capitalist," I said. "He was successful. People wanted to work with him, not against him."
Ethan nodded but didn't look convinced.
"What about personal enemies?"
I shook my head. "Everyone loved Ryan."
The silence that followed my statement felt wrong. Heavy. Loaded.
I looked at my bridesmaids. Not one of them would meet my eyes.
"What?" I demanded. "Why are you all looking like that?"
"We're not looking like anything," Mara said softly. "We're grieving, Lily."
But there was something else. Something they were holding behind their teeth like a secret they'd swallowed.
Ethan noticed it too. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Here's what I think," he said calmly. "I think all of you know something you're not telling me. And I think whatever it is has everything to do with why Ryan Ashford is upstairs with a hole in his chest."
"You don't know us," Harper said coldly. "You don't know anything about us."
"You're right," Ethan agreed. "But I know crime scenes. And I know that in ninety percent of homicide cases, the victim knows their killer." His gaze drifted to me. "Intimately."
The implication was clear. My stomach churned.
"I didn't kill my husband."
"Then who did, Mrs. Ashford?"
The storm screamed against the windows, and I had no answer.
Ethan stood. "I'm going to examine the room more thoroughly. I suggest you all stay here and think very carefully about what you want to tell me — because lies have a way of unraveling faster than the truth."
He disappeared upstairs, and the moment his footsteps faded, I turned on my friends.
"Tell me what's going on. Right now."
Harper looked at Grace. Grace looked at Mara. Mara looked at Nadia.
Then Nadia said quietly, "There are things about Ryan you don't know, Lily."
My blood went cold. "What things?"
Before she could answer, a crash echoed from upstairs — followed by Ethan's voice, sharp and commanding:
"Everyone get up here. Now."
"No signs of forced entry. No footprints on the beach besides mine. No boats docked other than my patrol vessel." He looked up. "Whoever killed Ryan Ashford was already inside this house."
My stomach dropped through the floor.
Harper opened her mouth to argue, but Ethan raised a hand.
"I'm not accusing anyone. I'm stating facts." He sat down across from us, water pooling beneath his chair. "Five women and one dead man on an island with no way off and no way to call for backup. Until this storm passes and I can radio the mainland, I'm all you've got."
Nobody responded.
"So," Ethan continued, pulling out his pen, "let's start with the basics. How long have you all known the victim?"
Grace spoke first — her courtroom composure sliding back into place. "Ryan and Lily met five years ago. They've been engaged for two. We've all known him since they started dating."
"And your relationships with him? Any conflicts?"
"He was our best friend's husband," Nadia said flatly. "We tolerated him for her sake."
The words hung in the air. I looked at Nadia, confused. "Tolerated?"
Nadia pressed her lips together and looked away.
Ethan caught it. Of course he caught it.
"What does that mean?" he pressed.
"It means nothing," Harper said firmly. "Nadia's just upset. We're all upset. A man is dead."
Ethan studied Harper for a long moment, then wrote something in his notebook. "Fine. Tell me about last night. Walk me through the evening, starting with the ceremony."
We took turns — fragments of memory sewn together into a rough timeline. The sunset ceremony at five. Cocktail hour at six. Dinner at seven-thirty. Dancing started around nine. The staff departed on the last ferry at ten.
After that, things got hazy for all of us.
"The champagne," I said, rubbing my temples. "Ryan had ordered this special vintage. Case after case. He kept refilling our glasses."
"Ryan specifically?" Ethan asked.
"Yes. He was... very attentive last night." I paused, searching for more memories, but there was nothing — just darkness.
Ethan tapped his pen against the notebook. "Did your husband have any enemies? Business disputes? Debt?"
"Ryan was a venture capitalist," I said. "He was successful. People wanted to work with him, not against him."
Ethan nodded but didn't look convinced.
"What about personal enemies?"
I shook my head. "Everyone loved Ryan."
The silence that followed my statement felt wrong. Heavy. Loaded.
I looked at my bridesmaids. Not one of them would meet my eyes.
"What?" I demanded. "Why are you all looking like that?"
"We're not looking like anything," Mara said softly. "We're grieving, Lily."
But there was something else. Something they were holding behind their teeth like a secret they'd swallowed.
Ethan noticed it too. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Here's what I think," he said calmly. "I think all of you know something you're not telling me. And I think whatever it is has everything to do with why Ryan Ashford is upstairs with a hole in his chest."
"You don't know us," Harper said coldly. "You don't know anything about us."
"You're right," Ethan agreed. "But I know crime scenes. And I know that in ninety percent of homicide cases, the victim knows their killer." His gaze drifted to me. "Intimately."
The implication was clear. My stomach churned.
"I didn't kill my husband."
"Then who did, Mrs. Ashford?"
The storm screamed against the windows, and I had no answer.
Ethan stood. "I'm going to examine the room more thoroughly. I suggest you all stay here and think very carefully about what you want to tell me — because lies have a way of unraveling faster than the truth."
He disappeared upstairs, and the moment his footsteps faded, I turned on my friends.
"Tell me what's going on. Right now."
Harper looked at Grace. Grace looked at Mara. Mara looked at Nadia.
Then Nadia said quietly, "There are things about Ryan you don't know, Lily."
My blood went cold. "What things?"
Before she could answer, a crash echoed from upstairs — followed by Ethan's voice, sharp and commanding:
"Everyone get up here. Now."