“Nice try.” Meagan collected a few stray glasses and set them on one of the catering tables. “You know Dad hired a crew to do this?”

“I know, but they won’t be here until tomorrow and—” Lane looked up. The storm clouds had cleared the way for an inky sky glittering with stars. The truth was, she wasn’t ready for the night to end. So, she lingered, reliving her and Charlie’s caught-in-the-rain moment. “I’m enjoying the night.”

“Says the girl pretending she’s not in love.” Meagan winked. “What were you two doing out by your old fort?”

A commotion inside the house drew their attention, saving Lane from having to explain how she had run off into the woods like a lovesick teenager and indulged in a moment of weakness.

“Lane.”

Whatever warmth she’d been reveling in was extinguished at the sound of her father’s commanding tone. “Yes?”

“Sheriff Huggins and Deputy Lynch are here to speak with you.”

Lane frowned. Charlie was back? With the sheriff? She followed her father into the house as Meagan trailed behind her. A tiny tremor of anxiety curled over her shoulders and clawed deeper when she found her mom, Wes, Sheriff Huggins, and Charlie waiting for her inside the living room.

She took a seat in the leather chair opposite her mom and next to Sheriff Huggins. Her eyes cut to Charlie. It was clear by his expression and rigid posture that this was a professional visit.

“Judge Sullivan, do you have a list of all the guests who were present tonight?” Charlie asked when her father took his place next to her mom.

Meagan was perched on the arm of the couch, near Wes—her worried gaze bouncing between each of them.

“I have the invitation list,” her mother offered, rising. She went to the secretary desk and picked up a binder. “Not everyone on the list came, but Meagan has the names from the auction too, right, honey?”

“Yes.” Meagan left the room and returned with a clipboard. She handed it to Charlie. “What’s going on?”

Charlie looked over the pages. “What about the waitstaff? Valets?”

“There’s a tab in the binder containing the contract from the caterer and valet service, along with the names.” Her mother’s voice held an anxiousness Lane didn’t like. “Four servers. Three valets. And the bartender.”

“Five servers,” Lane’s father said. “There were five servers tonight.”

Lane’s mother shook her head. “No, dear. Only four. You wanted us to get five so we’d have a backup in case one didn’t show up, but—”

“Elise, there were five. I remember because one was wearing an earring and I asked him to remove it while he was working. I checked the other servers. Two women. Three men.” Her father’s eyes pinned Sheriff Huggins. “What does our guest list and the names of our waitstaff have to do with your visit, Sheriff?”