CHAPTER SEVEN Insomniac Investigations

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” I blurted, throwing out my arm to stop the elevator from closing. “You can’t just drop an accusation like that and then leave!”

Priya turned around to face me, half-in, half-out of the elevator. Her eyes were a little unfocused. “What do you mean, ‘drop’?” she asked. “I’ve been sshaying this from the beginning. All those exshtreme sports! Veronica was never into that before. She’s just lucky it was him that crashed into that tree. If it was her, I’m not sure she would have survived.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Bess breathed, sounding very relieved. “You mean that the sports he got her into were dangerous, then? Not that he was literally going to murder her?”

Priya scrunched up her eyebrows, looking almost annoyed. “Of course not! Sheesh. But he’s still bad news, and she finally figured it out. The real Veronica ishn’t about that life.”

I sighed and pulled my arm back, letting Priya exit. “Okay, okay. Point taken. Good night, Priya. Get some rest.” And sleep it off, I added silently. As Veronica’s best friend headed off and the door closed behind her, I wondered about her words. Veronica had run away from the wedding on purpose; the disguise proved that. So was there any truth to what Priya believed? Had Veronica tired of Xavier’s thrill seeking, maybe gotten scared straight by his accident at the rehearsal dinner? Was it as simple as that?

Bess, George, and I stumbled back to our room and quickly got ready for bed. Soon after we turned out the lights, I could hear their breathing slowing enough to imply that they’d both fallen asleep. Bess muttered a couple of incomprehensible things in her sleep, like she does. But I felt as wide awake as if I’d just pulled the curtain to reveal a blinding-white morning and drunk three espressos. I felt a little jealous of my friends, that they were able to press pause on a mystery and relax enough to go to sleep. I wasn’t so good at that.

Fortunately, I had something to keep me occupied. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I threw off the covers, got up, and fished Veronica’s phone out of my purse. I typed 1023 on the keypad, and sure enough, the phone unlocked. Well, that’s a note in Xavier’s favor, I thought, clicking on the messages icon. If Xavier thought that Veronica had reason to fear him, he wouldn’t be so eager to share her phone with me… would he?

Or was there a chance he was playing me? Could he have deleted anything compromising before he gave me the phone? But he hadn’t had that kind of time, had he? And how could he have known I would ask for it?

I shook my head. I was spiraling. Just look at the phone, Nance, I reminded myself.

Right. Phone. Clues!

The first conversation in the messages app was between Veronica and Xavier, which made sense. As a loving couple about to get married, they were probably in the closest contact of anyone Veronica knew. My pulse quickening, I rapidly scanned through pages and pages of messages, looking for a fight, a harsh word, any indication that not all was well in paradise. But what I found was… well, not at all harsh. In fact, it was all pretty squishy. From the morning of the wedding:

Woke up smiling and thinking of you, mariposa.

Awww, babe. You are the sweetest!

I can’t wait to call you my wife. Are you nervous?

About screwing up my vows? Sure. :) But I love you so much, babe. I know you’ll keep me safe. Won’t you?

Forever and ever. <3 <3 <3

It was hard not to gag on all the sweetness. Gosh, I wondered, should I be talking to Ned like that? I’d texted him once since we’d arrived in Vegas, sending him a video George took of me flyboarding with the message, Did you see this one coming? He’d texted back, You’re a woman of constant surprises, Nancy, and then the heart emoji.

Texts between Xavier and Veronica going back over the last few days looked like more of the same. No indication that she was scared—of him, or of anything else. She seemed to be really having a good time in Vegas and looking forward to the wedding. But then why had she decided to run?

Runaway brides don’t just happen. There has to be a reason….

I clicked on the next conversation. The first text, the one on the preview page, was from Priya:

I just don’t want you to look back on this as the biggest mistake you ever made.

Well! That seemed a lot more contentious than the Xavier convo. I glanced down, reading a conversation that had started the night before, after Xavier’s accident.

He’ll be fine. It’s all fine, Priya.

It’s NOT fine! I know you. You have to be freaking out inside.

I’m fine.

How can you do this for the rest of your life? How many trips to the hospital will you take? How many times will you have to wonder if he’ll make it through?

It’s who he is, and I love him. It’s worth it to me.

Will it be worth it if the next time, it’s you on a stretcher?

Veronica!

Are you mad? I don’t want to upset you the night before your wedding.

V?

I love you. You know that.

I just don’t want you to look back on this as the biggest mistake you ever made.

That was the last text between Priya and Veronica. And the fact that Veronica had stopped responding made me curious. Had Priya’s warnings gotten through? Was Priya right that Veronica had run away for fear that Xavier’s thrill seeking could kill her? Or was Veronica just tired of having this same conversation with her BFF?

I kept looking through the phone. I was hoping to find texts between Veronica and her parents, but she seemed to have her phone set to delete texts after two weeks, and she hadn’t interacted with them in that time. That seemed notable in itself, of course—were her parents so against Xavier that they hadn’t even sent a last-minute congratulations text? All the messages I did find seemed like such normal, everyday, dentist-appointment-canceling, I’m-going-to-be-five-minutes-late-today-warning, thank-you-for-the-flowers-grandma stuff that I almost felt guilty looking through it all. On her phone, Veronica seemed like exactly who she said she was: a bright young woman who loved her friends and her fiancé and was excited about her wedding. There were no dark secrets, no unexpected grudges.

So then where was she? Why had she run?

I was about to give up when I noticed a number with a Chicago area code. It wasn’t associated with a contact, meaning this wasn’t someone Veronica texted with often. I’d overlooked this one because many of the unidentified numbers were spam, doctors’ offices, or charities looking for donations. But when I opened up the conversation, this one looked a little different.

Did u get the documents I sent u?

I did. I don’t know what to say.

My heart started to beat a little faster. I don’t know what to say? It wasn’t exactly Let me tell you why I can’t marry Xavier, but it was the most unexpected thing I’d seen on Veronica’s phone. Unfortunately, the conversation ended there. I had no idea who the sender was, or what had shaken Veronica about the documents. It could be her accountant sending her an unexpected tax bill, or something equally unexciting. But this at least gave me something to look for. Documents!

The text had been sent the day before—a few hours prior to the rehearsal dinner. That gave me a window. I pulled up Veronica’s email app. It connected to two accounts—her work account and her personal email. I scrolled down through the list of messages, looking for the little paper clip icon that denotes an attachment. There were two—both work-related things that had nothing to do with the wedding. And based on the messages that accompanied them, neither seemed to be from the mystery texter. They were just documents from colleagues looking to “keep Veronica in the loop.”

Figuring that the documents might have been sent a while before the person sent the text, I looked back, one week, two weeks. There were more work-related documents—they took some time to look through, but none seemed pertinent here. Then I checked Veronica’s personal email but found only one attachment sent to that account. When I opened it up, I saw an invitation to a friend’s baby shower. Could those be the “documents” the texter was asking about? I don’t know what to say. Maybe Veronica was somehow offended that the person had invited her, or was surprised she was having a baby?

No. Well, maybe, but it seemed extremely unlikely. Who would call a baby shower invite “documents”? And why would Veronica react like that?

No, I told myself, the “documents” had to be something else. My gut told me I hadn’t found them yet. I glanced through Veronica’s texts, but there were no attachments there, either. Maybe the documents had been sent as a hard copy? If so, my best chance was that they might be in Veronica’s room. Maybe she’d brought them with her, or they had been mailed to her at the casino. But I couldn’t do anything about that until morning.

Or can I? I had a number. The person who’d sent the text to Veronica didn’t have to remain a mystery. They were only a phone call away.

I took Veronica’s phone into the bathroom and closed the door, not wanting to wake Bess or George. Then I opened the messages icon again and selected the mystery number. I hit the call icon.

As it began to ring, I suddenly felt regretful. It was the middle of the night. Who wants to get called by a stranger in the middle of the night? But it was too late to change my mind, because someone was picking up….

“Hello?”

It was a gruff, groggy-sounding male voice. An older man, I guessed from the tone of his voice. And he didn’t sound happy.

“Hello, this is a friend of Veronica Vasquez. I think you may have texted her phone earlier?” What am I saying? I realized too late that I didn’t have a plan. I was just making it up as I went along, which is never good.

The voice turned angry. “Who is this?!”

“This is, ah—like I said. I’m a friend of Veronic—”

“Veronica would never call me in the middle of the night.”

Click. The call was ended. I stared at the phone for a second and then, before I could change my mind, I hit redial. Veronica is missing, I rehearsed in my mind, and I wondered from your text if you might have any idea why she disappeared. I would get it right this time. I would get the—

Bloop. A sad tone sounded from the phone. I pulled it from my ear and read the message:

This call cannot go through because the recipient has blocked your number.

Stupid! I smacked myself on the forehead. Gah, Nancy, you know better than to just randomly call up people in the middle of the night. I was tired, wired, and not thinking straight. And I feared I’d just thrown away a potentially helpful source of information.

I sat there for a few minutes, waiting for my breath to go back to normal and thinking through the whole situation. I’d gotten as far as I could tonight. I was tired and making things worse.

I should try to get some rest.

I slunk back into the bedroom and rested Veronica’s phone on a desk, far enough from my bed that I’d have to get up to reach it. That should be enough of a deterrent. Then I slid back beneath the covers and tried to take a few deep, soothing breaths.

The curtains were open just a crack, letting in just a tiny bit of the lights of the Strip far below our window. Somewhere out there was Veronica.

If you’re out there, I thought, I hope you’re safe. Just hold on.

I will find you.