wedding tomorrow. In fact, I’m supposed to have them at the rehearsal in—” he glanced at his watch “—ten minutes.”
The young man considered him for less than a second. “They’re in the Governor’s Room, just past the restrooms.”
Derrick strode through the lobby in the direction the young man indicated. He weaved around a cluster of people huddled before a festival event marquee and passed the ladies’ lounge. The hallway beyond contained several meeting rooms, the doors all closed. He found the one labeled Governor’s Room and entered without knocking.
The people inside sat in chairs around a conference table, two men in uniform and three women. Everyone’s attention seemed to be focused on the young woman at the end, the one he immediately recognized from the photos he’d studied online. Jasmine Delaney. He’d spent enough time examining images of her face, with its pixie chin and arresting green eyes, to pick her out in a crowd. She looked very different at the moment, though, with a red nose and eyes puffy from crying. A box of tissues sat on the table, and several crumpled-up white wads littered the surface before her.
She looked up at him when he came into the room, and their eyes met. Something surged between them, and the shock of it glued Derrick’s feet to the carpet. For a moment he couldn’t look anywhere but at her. In that instant he knew that this girl was not guilty of murder.
A wave of relief washed over him, mixed with something else. Compassion, maybe? The poor girl looked fragile, almost frail, and absolutely terrified.
One of the deputies rose and took a step toward him. “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t come in here.”
“Fine.” Derrick tore his gaze from the girl’s. He unclipped the cell phone from his belt and held it toward the man. “But could you do me a favor? Call Sheriff Maguire and explain why I’m not at his son’s wedding rehearsal with the musicians.”
The deputy stared at the phone, suddenly hesitant.
“’Lo, Derrick.” Matt Farmer, the deputy on the other side of the table, nodded. They’d known each other for years, had grown up in the same neighborhood. “We’re just about finished here. I don’t see any reason we can’t release these ladies and let them get on to the rehearsal. You got anything else, Frank?”
The other deputy directed his words toward Jasmine. “Yeah, I want to hear about that electrician one more time.”
Her lips tightened before she answered. Good. A show of spunk meant she wasn’t one of those women who collapsed into an emotional heap under stress.
She caught Frank in an unflinching stare. “I’ve told you at least a dozen times in the last hour and a half—I don’t know if he was an electrician, or a repairman, or what. He did have a long gray ponytail sticking out of the back of his cap, but other than that I barely noticed him. I was watching two little girls who almost ran right into a waiter with a full tray in his hands.”
“And the reason you first called him a repairman is…”
Jasmine blew an impatient breath. “Because he was wearing a gray shirt that might have been a uniform, and he was carrying a beat-up duffel bag that looked like it might have tools in it. But it was just an impression. I saw him from behind. For all I know he was a guest checking into the hotel and he has cheap luggage.”
“But he was heading toward the door. You’re sure of that?”
She slapped a hand down on the table. “No, I’m not! I think he was heading for the door, but he might just as easily have been going toward the elevator, or even toward the lounge. I didn’t see him go outside. I wasn’t watching him.”
Definitely not the collapsing kind. Instead, this girl looked like she had a temper packed with dynamite, and the deputy’s match was getting a little too close.
Derrick stepped forward. “We really need to get going. I’m sure if these ladies remember anything else, they’ll tell it to Sheriff Maguire. He’s at the rehearsal right now.”
Matt shook his head. “The Sheriff is out trying to find the victim’s next of kin at the moment.”
“Okay, then they’ll call you if they have anything else to say. And you know where to find them.”
Matt stared at him a moment before lifting a shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll have more questions later.”
The look of gratitude Jazzy shot Derrick made him stand a bit taller.
The young woman on Jasmine’s left rose from her seat, her near six-foot frame towering above Frank. She was broomstick-thin, a striking contrast to the heavy blonde across the table, who also stood.
“Come on, Jazzy.” The tall brunette shoved her chair under the table.
“You sure you’re up to it, honey?” The blonde hefted the strap of a purse onto her shoulder, eyeing Jasmine with concern etched in her brow. “You had quite a shock up there.”
Jazzy’s throat convulsed as her troubled gaze moved from the brunette to her other friend. Whatever shock she’d experienced was going to haunt her for a while. He itched to ask what had happened, but they were running so late. He’d give Matt a call later and pry the information out of him.
“’Course she’s up to it.” The other girl put an arm around Jasmine’s shoulders and gave a squeeze. “Jazzy’s a professional. We signed on for a job, and we’re going to do it. Right?”
Jasmine’s lips formed a trembling smile and she nodded. “Right.” She lifted her chin, and then turned toward him. “Derrick Rogers? I’m Jasmine Delaney.”
As if he didn’t know that. Her hand felt warm in his, and soft. “Nice to meet you, Miss Delaney.”
“Please call me Jasmine. Or Jazzy. And these are my friends, Liz and Caitlin.”
Jazzy. He’d noticed the nickname mentioned in a couple of the comments on her ShoutLife profile, and now that he’d seen her in person, he decided it suited her. This woman deserved a name with some spunk.
He shook each lady’s hand, then glanced at his watch. “We’re going to be late, but not too bad. I’ll call my sister while you grab your instruments and whatever else you need. I’m parked right out front.”
Jazzy had been stooping to pick up a handbag from the floor, and froze. Straightening, she looked at Matt. “Our instruments are upstairs, in with…” Her voice trembled.
“I’ll get them.” Frank stepped toward the door, then stopped and caught Jazzy in a stare. “On second thought, I’ll take you to the church myself. I want to hear you go over it one more time.”
He disappeared through the door as Jazzy sucked in an outraged breath. Derrick exchanged a glance with Matt, who shrugged. Apparently Matt wasn’t willing to cross his partner when it came to questioning witnesses.
Liz rushed across the room and stuck her head out the door. “I need my bag, too,” she called after the deputy. “It has my music portfolio in it.”
Jazzy turned to Matt. “What will happen to the rest of our stuff?”
“Yeah,” said Caitlin, “and where will we
