You're Invited
Also by Amanda Jayatissa
My Sweet Girl
BERKLEY
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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Copyright © 2022 by Amanda Jayatissa
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Jayatissa, Amanda, author.
Title: You’re invited / Amanda Jayatissa.
Other titles: You are invited
Description: New York : Berkley, [2022]
Identifiers: LCCN 2021057360 (print) | LCCN 2021057361 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593335123 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780593335147 (ebook)
Subjects: GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | Suspense fiction.
Classification: LCC PR9440.9.J36 Y68 2022 (print) | LCC PR9440.9.J36
(ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021057360
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021057361
Cover design and photo illustration by Emily Osborne
Book design by Katy Riegel, adapted for ebook by Kelly Brennan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
pid_prh_6.0_140628072_c0_r0
Contents
Cover
Also by Amanda Jayatissa
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Interview
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Interview
Chapter 4
Interview
Chapter 5
Interview
Chapter 6
Interview
Chapter 7
Interview
Chapter 8
Interview
Chapter 9
Interview
Chapter 10
Interview
Chapter 11
Interview
Chapter 12
Interview
Chapter 13
Interview
Chapter 14
Interview
Chapter 15
Interview
Chapter 16
Interview
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Interview
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To my mother, Kanisha—who encouraged me to be fearless, adventurous, and fun. Turns out that I’m none of these things, but I am eternally grateful that you were a part of my life, even if it wasn’t for as long as we both wanted.
AMAYA
Morning of the Wedding
I woke up with bruised knuckles and blood under my fingernails, more rested than I have been in years. I guess this is who I am now. The kind of person who would finally get a good night’s sleep after attacking someone else. The kind of woman who would fly halfway around the world to stop my ex–best friend from marrying my ex-boyfriend. If that’s one too many exes for you, well, it certainly is for me. But I’m also the kind of woman who does whatever it takes, so here I am.
Balancing my teacup in one hand, I opened the sliding door that led out onto the small balcony attached to my room at the Mount Lavinia Hotel. It overlooked the expansive private beach, which was deserted.
Of course it was. It was too early in the day for anyone to be out there. Maybe later on, but then again, who knows how things will pan out? The wedding would definitely be canceled now. The guests would all shuffle home, dispirited and upset. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they would just be grateful for the all-expenses-paid weekend, and take advantage of the beautiful beach and open bar. They would definitely mull around, gossiping and curious about what transpired. Aunties would have their own theories, no doubt, and phones will light up with messages about what happened to the unfortunate bride, Kaavindi Fonseka. This is Colombo after all.
It flickered in my stomach then—the first flutter of nervousness. I knew I couldn’t keep it away for long. It had been a simple plan, of course. But like all simple plans, it could be quite complicated unless you teased everything out. Laid everything bare. And like all simple plans, it had the potential to go very, very wrong.
I watched the waves swell and bounce and crash and forgive. The fishing boats were already well on their way out to sea, and a few birds circled the ocean in the distance. Keeping my eyes on the horizon, I took a deep breath and counted to five.
Then exhaled.
My hands were steady on my cup of tea, but a fleck of dried blood had made its way onto the clean white ceramic. I’d better take a shower. Today was a big day for me. Perhaps even more so than yesterday. So much depended on what I did next.
I stepped into the bathroom and made the water as hot as it would go. It felt like a betrayal, washing the last bits of yesterday off me. Knowing she was gone, as I watched the water swirl down the drain. But I went through all the motions, still nervous but also feeling, for the first time in a very long time, that I belonged to myself. That things just might be okay. That I was finally vindicated of everything that happened five years ago.
I shampooed my hair, conditioned it, slathered on soap that smelled like jasmine all over my body.
Deep breath in, Amaya. Now count to five. Let it out slowly. Just like Dr. Dunn said.
It was over. After so many years, I could finally let it go.
Steam clouded around me as I dried and then dressed myself. My small overnight bag was already packed, ready for me to make my exit. My passport was at home, with the rest of my luggage. The flight back to LA wasn’t until tomorrow morning, but I could last till then.
I checked the time—6:36 a.m. A pattern. A lucky number. Thank goodness. I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders.
I’ll wait until 7:00 a.m. to check out. 7:07 a.m., if I could manage it. I couldn’t afford to look suspicious. After all, who checks out of a five-star hotel at the crack of dawn unless it’s some sort of emergency? I didn’t want to draw attention to myself now. I couldn’t leave anything up to chance.
I busied myself by giving the room a once-over—making sure I hadn’t left my charger plugged in and forgotten, or left anything hanging behind the bathroom door. There was a T-shirt in a plastic shopping bag that I kept near my purse, waiting to be thrown out on the taxi ride home. It was always better to be safe. I sat down, phone in hand, watching the numbers on the clock tick their way toward when I could leave.
The rap on my door came at 6:51 a.m., ricocheting through my quiet room, lodging itself deep in my heart.
Who would knock on my door now?
It didn’t make any sense.
I hesitated a moment.
The second rap sounded more urgent.
“Miss Bloom, this is Alistair Ferdinand, the hotel manager. Sorry to disturb you. Could we have a moment, please?”
The manager?
Well, at least it wasn’t the police. They’d come later. I hoped to be gone by then.
I took another deep breath and cracked open the door.
“Yes?” I tried to keep the tremble out of my voice. I knew it even before he said anything. I could feel it in my bones—the writhing. The inherent sense that things were about to go very, very wrong.
“Miss Bloom, my apologies for this, but we have to search your room.”
“Search my room?”
But he was pushed aside by someone as she barreled her way inside.
“Where is she?” Her voice was shrill.
“Tehani? What are you doing here? What’s going on?” My voice was a whimper. An embarrassing contrast against hers.
“Oh fuck off, like you don’t know.”
“I—I don’t understand.” I swallowed. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The manager stepped in. “We have been instructed to search all rooms immediately. It appears that one of our guests has gone missing.”
“What? Who?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
“I’m not at liberty to say right now, madam. We just need to check your room.”
It felt like all the breath had been knocked out of me. This was really happening.
The manager was accompanied by two security guards. Let them look. She certainly wasn’t in here. It took just less than a minute of them going through my room to confirm.
I glanced at the time, just to make sure. 6:53 a.m. Nothing lucky about that. My chest tightened.
“As you can see, I’m alone in here. But please, let me know if I can help.” I sounded far away—like my voice was disconnected from the rest of my body.
“You can help by telling us the truth, you bitch.” Tehani’s voice slapped me back to reality. She was holding up the T-shirt I’d been meaning to throw away—a basic white tee with the words Pink Sapphires emblazoned across the chest in sparkly letters.
My heart started pounding.
“This is my sister’s. Why do you have it?”
I could barely get my words out.
“Kaavi, she—gave it to me. I’d—you know, I’d spilled something on myself, and she wanted me to have it.”
“You’re such a liar! I knew it! I told them you’d have something to do with this! Just wait—”
And with that, Tehani stormed out, T-shirt and all.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
“Thank you, Miss Bloom. We are going to have to ask you to please stay in your room until further notice.”
“Stay in my room?” My heart was a wild animal now. Jumping and pounding and trying to escape out of my chest. “But I was going to check out soon.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it is imperative that you do so. I’m told that the investigators will be arriving soon to handle this situation.”
Oh my goodness, I couldn’t believe this was happening.
This was not the plan. This was not the plan at all.
“How do you know she’s missing?” I asked. “Maybe she went for a walk? Or, well, have you checked the groom’s room?” I made sure to lower my voice for that last bit, so the security guards couldn’t hear me.
“Trust me, Miss Bloom. She hasn’t gone for a walk. There were—and I don’t mean to alarm you—signs of a struggle in her room. Right now, I’m afraid we have to believe the worst . . .” His voice trailed off and he eyed my hand. I glanced down to see what he was staring at.
I’d washed away the blood, of course, but the bruise on my knuckles was a little harder to get rid of.
“Anyway, thank you for your time. Once again, please stay in your room until you’re called for questioning.”
“Okay.” It was all I could manage.
I could barely breathe.
“And Miss Bloom—?” The manager hesitated near my door.
“Yes?”
“We have security stationed on every corridor. So please do be kind enough to adhere to our safety measures.” He kept his eyes firmly on my face until just before he turned around, when I saw him try to sneak another glance at my knuckles. I held my hand behind my back—out of sight. I wasn’t an idiot.
They shut the door on their way out, and I went back into the bathroom. There was a gentleman’s grooming kit on the sink counter. I took out the razor and pried out one of the thin metal blades from its plastic casing.
Dropping the lid shut on the toilet, I sat down, bringing my right foot up to rest on the porcelain so I could reach. I took another deep breath and plunged the blade into the side of my big toe. It stung and throbbed, and a livid drop of blood swelled and burst onto the tile below. That was better. I couldn’t risk any more damage to my hands, after all.
I finally allowed myself to feel angry.
I thought I was being so clever—coming here, destroying things, trying to stop this wedding from happening. It was all my fault. I’ve been too smug. As smug as a cat who’s about to get the cream. But I’m no cat. I’ve been so wrong. I’ve been the mouse this whole time. I should have known.
I went out to the bed and collapsed, phone in hand, watching the numbers. How long did I have to wait?
Many hours, it turned out.
The room service cart visited me twice, and each time I politely thanked the waiter and asked for an update. Both times, I was met with a formal reply that they were still waiting on more information. Both times I couldn’t touch my food that stayed, cooling, and then stinking up my room while I contemplated my next move.
It was 3:28 p.m. when the knock that I had been expecting finally pulled me back to where I was. Still no luck with the numbers. A definite sign.
I took a deep breath. Counted to five. Then I stood up.
“Good afternoon,” I said, answering the door.
“Miss Bloom.” The manager of the hotel accompanied three security officers. They weren’t the police, which made me feel marginally better. I think they were from a private security company, judging from their uniforms. And private security couldn’t make any arrests, right?
“You need to come with us, madam. And please alert me to any valuables you might have stored here, as we will be searching your room again. More thoroughly this time, I’m afraid.”
“That’s fine,” I replied quietly. “I don’t really have any valuables, but there’s about three hundred US dollars in my wallet.”
He gave me a curt nod, and the officers escorted me down the corridor. There were security guards swarming everywhere I looked, as well as in-house guards. The security were in beige and brown, sticking out against the old portraits and colonial interior of the hotel, but the in-house guards were decked out in their postcolonial glory—white knee-length shorts, white knee-high socks, and wide-brimmed white safari hats. It was like stepping into a time capsule whenever I saw them.
I was led away to a conference room on the highest floor of the old wing. The wooden staircase echoed as I climbed it slowly, surely, making my way to where my life was undoubtedly about to be torn to shreds.
The room itself was really quite cheerful, with two large windows overlooking the sparkling Indian Ocean and soft pipe music chirping away in the background. It felt like sacrilege. Things shouldn’t be this bright and happy. Not now. Not when everything was just about to erupt.
I was left alone. I sat down. I looked at the time—3:33 p.m. Finally. Finally, a good sign. I took another deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.
I’ll just tell them the truth. That had to work, right? I’ll tell them the truth and then maybe I could make them understand that it’s all been a mistake.