The Reunion by Suzanne Rossi Page B

they have a body on their hands,” Zach told them.
    “Who is it? Someone we know?” she asked.
    “I think its Suzanne Wayland.”
    Meghan’s head swung to Dave. He stared at Zach with a blank expression, and then downed his drink in a single gulp.
    “Oh, my God, another one. I don’t know why I’m so upset. I didn’t even like her.” Eileen moaned and sobbed harder.
    “I’m not real fond of you, either,” Suzanne stated, stepping into the light from the shadows on the opposite end of the terrace, her hands fisted on her hips.
    Eileen yelped. Dave Coryell, his expression no longer empty but astonished, gaped at his former girlfriend. The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering at his feet.
    Before anyone could say a word, Eric Peterson strolled out.
    “Has anybody seen Annabelle? She wanted to get some air, but that was over thirty minutes ago.” His gaze settled on the stunned crowd. “What’s going on?”
    The truth dawned on Meghan. She sucked in her breath and gazed at the people nearby.
    Zach and Carl whirled to face Eric. Meghan’s heart pounded and her ears buzzed.
    Oh, my God…. Annabelle? Who’d want to hurt Annabelle?
    Even as she thought the words, the facts stabbed her in the gut. Her attention turned back to Eileen who stifled another scream.
    Glory Ecklund fainted dead away in her husband’s arms. He lowered her to the stone floor, his face a mask of anger—and fear.
    ****
    The police arrived and directed everyone from the terrace into the ballroom with orders not to leave until they’d been questioned. When the forensics team and the coroner arrived, they pulled the body from the water, and a distraught Eric made the gruesome identification of his wife.
    Carl took over the care of Eileen, while Meghan helped Tom deal with a shaken Glory. They sat at the table while Glory mumbled biblical passages.
    “Shall I get her a drink?” Meghan asked Tom.
    “No, water will do for now, but I wouldn’t mind a good stiff belt. Bourbon is fine.”
    She hurried toward the bar and glanced outside the terrace doors where Zach talked with the cops. By now everybody in the room knew what had happened. The band had ceased playing and the conversation had dwindled to a muted hum in the air.
    Dave had grabbed Suzanne’s hand and whisked her through the door. The two of them sat alone, heads close together, at a table in the far corner of the room. Meghan had never seen Suzanne so subdued, or Dave so tense. Several classmates shot covert glances at the couple.
    Friends gathered around a stunned and sobbing Eric.
    She ordered Tom’s bourbon, a glass of wine for herself, and amaretto for Zach. She walked back slowly and deposited the drinks on the table.
    Tom bolted the whisky in two gulps, and then continued to comfort Glory.
    “It’s going to be all right, honey,” he said, stroking the disheveled hair from her face.
    Glory mumbled and stared straight ahead as if in a trance. It gave Meghan the creeps. She sipped the wine, waiting for Zach to return with news.
    Glory clapped a hand over her mouth and rose. “Oh dear! I’m going to be sick!”
    She turned and bolted toward the banquet hall doors, Tom running in her wake.
    Meghan was tempted to follow, but Zach and the sheriff along with several deputies walked through the terrace doors. She recognized the sheriff as Ray Armstrong. Twenty years ago, he’d been a young deputy. He walked onstage to the microphone. Zach approached the table and sat next to her.
    “Well?”
    Zach shrugged. “Forensics is sifting through every piece of gravel in the path and under every lily pad in the pond. We’ll know when they feel like telling us.”
    “May I have your attention, please?” the sheriff announced. The mike squealed and he backed away while one of the deputies adjusted the sound. “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. I’d like you all to take the seats you occupied earlier this evening. We’ll be around to get statements as quickly as we