Ridley Pierce must have studied hard to earn them all. She caught Derek and Amanda waiting together in the Viewing Room’s greenroom. “Well, well, well.” Ridley stood in the doorway, barely decent in a black column dress more suited to a beauty pageant than a VIP mixer. “Scraping the bottom of the barrel tonight, I see. Couldn’t they find a better replacement for Nicole, or did they run out of cardboard cutouts?” Amanda watched Derek turn a dangerous brownish-red color. She could hardly blame him. Five days with no word from Nicole. Three since the locals joined the investigation, and still nothing. Derek was despondent, and Ridley should be ashamed of herself for taking such a tasteless shot. Much as Amanda would like to rip out every single one of those red curls, she was still under strict orders from Thomas to set a standard of composure and keep things running smoothly on the resort. She stood and spoke in a level, reasonable voice. “Was there something you needed?”
