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married.”
    Knox holds out a manila envelope. As he dumps the contents of it, I notice little beads of sweat have formed on his forehead. Knox rarely sweats.  
    Two shiny silver wedding bands clang onto the table.  
    “Oh fuck!” Jennifer groans. “Knox? What the fuck? Did we get married? I was joking when I said let’s get married in Vegas. Oh my god.” She flips to the next photo. “Look at me in this one. I’m in a veil. I have that silver ring on my finger and the other in my hand! I’m giving Elvis a thumbs-up! And, ohmigawd, look at this one. Knox, we’re at the altar, kissing!”
    “I remember going to a wedding,” Dawson admits. “And, Jennifer, I remember you throwing a bouquet.”
    “Did you sign anything?” Knox asks Dawson, clearly shaken by this. “If you were our witness, you would have signed something. Now that I think about it, I do remember being at a chapel. I was on the steps and worried I was going to puke and ruin the wedding. But I think it was someone else’s wedding.”
    “I remember crashing a wedding,” I interject. I haven’t said a word this whole time. I’m afraid to open my mouth, but Knox’s face is getting so red, I’m worried he might have a stroke.
    “Oh, me too, now that you say that,” Dawson confirms. “I think you and Jennifer stood up for someone. They said it would be an honor. Then, I think later, Jennifer took her veil.”
    Knox lets out a big breath of air. “Dodged that bullet,” he says, obviously relieved.  
    “Wasn’t there a wedding party on our party bus?” Dawson asks. “Didn’t we invite them back to the suite?”
    “Yes! I remember that!” Jennifer says. “I puked in the party bus, and the bride told me that was the best way to cure a hangover. That I should just stay drunk. So I started drinking again.”
    Tyler hands her another photo.  
    She studies it and then turns it toward us. “Okay, so I know I was drunk, but how in the fuck could the press have gotten this? It’s a selfie. See my arm?”
    “You probably used the bride’s phone and she sent it in,” Keatyn states. “I mean if Knox Daniels and Jennifer Edwards were at my wedding, I’d post about it.”
    “Where is your phone?” Vanessa asks Jennifer.
    “I think I lost it,” she says.
    “Or maybe that’s our answer. Maybe someone found it,” Vanessa suggests.
    “I did take the passcode off last night because I kept screwing it up. Shit. I’m an idiot.”
    “Did you get an envelope at the police station like Knox did?” Keatyn asks her.  
    “Oh, yeah! I did. Let me see what’s in there. Everyone should look. Maybe there are more clues.”
    “I think the internet has more than enough clues,” Vanessa deadpans.
    Jennifer dumps the contents then screeches, “My phone!” She looks at it and goes, “Ohmygawd, I’m down to one percent. I need a charger, stat!”
    Tyler runs out of the office and rushes back in with one, plugging it into the wall behind her.
    “You’re a life saver—oh shit, it just died.”
    “Plug it in, anyway,” Tyler says.
    She leans back in the chair, staring at her phone, willing it to life.  
    I take another helping of chicken and pick at it. The silence in the room is freaking me out. I already looked at my phone, saw it was dead, and decided to leave it that way. Anyone who needs to reach me can call the office. I’m sure Ariela found the flowers and left me a message. I don’t want to know what she said.
    I just don’t want to know.  
    “It’s awake and loading now,” Jennifer says.  
    We watch her hit buttons on her phone, her eyes getting bigger by the second.  
    “Um, shit . . .” she mutters.
    “What?” Vanessa prods.
    “Besides the seventeen missed calls from my parents, it appears that I sent my ex-boyfriend exactly sixty one texts last night.”
    She bangs her head on the desk and leaves it there.  
    “Your ex, huh?” Knox says, “You were texting him while you were with me?”
    “I’m sorry I