The Pretender

by HelenKay Dimon

  “Do you even know who you’re sleeping with?” Stephen pointed at Harris but kept his gaze on her. “He’s working with the investigator. He’s here to find out information on you.”

  The excitement in his voice suggested he wanted to knock her down with the news. But it was too late. “I know he’s with Damon.”

  “You call him Damon?” Stephen yelled the question.

  “Damon and Harris. They’re working together. I know all about it.” She’d already accepted this piece. A part of her always knew it to be true. They’d just finally confirmed it. Now that they had, they were trying to figure out the island’s secrets.

  “You are unbelievable.” Stephen shook his head. “I guess if you sleep with them they’ll look the other way, or that’s your hope. Your father would be horrified by your tactics.”

  Harris grabbed Stephen. Harris’s fingers tightened around the older man’s neck. “You are really close to being choked again.”

  But the damage was done. The words were out there. In addition to all the sins he’d thought she’d committed Stephen had now added a new one. She could barely count the ways she’d disappointed him. The list was too long.

  She’d tried to get through to him. Kept the slightest contact because all of her family was gone and she was desperate to reconnect. But to what? He’d severed every tie. He picked every word to inflict maximum damage. He refused to believe her, despite all her hopes that he would one day.

  Enough.

  “He’s staying in here. With you,” Stephen said, stating the obvious.

  She wasn’t ashamed of that fact and wasn’t about to pretend to be. “Yes.”

  “You’re sleeping with him. That makes you a—”

  “No.” This time she was the one who took the step closer. “Stop right there. After all the unforgivable things you’ve said and done to me over the years, do you really think calling me names matters? You hate me. I get it. Well, Uncle Stephen, I don’t like you either. You want us not to be related? Fine. As of today just pretend we aren’t.”

  “And then there’s the part where I’m five seconds from kicking your ass.” Harris moved his hand and tightened his grip on Stephen’s shoulder until he winced and squirmed and tried to get away from him. But Harris held on.

  Stephen made a squeaking sound as he tried to move away from the punishing hold. “You are fired.”

  Harris sighed. “You can say it a hundred times, but I still don’t work for you.”

  It took a few tugs, but Stephen jerked out of Harris’s grip and stood up straight again. “Then I’ll let your friend fire you. Damon is on my payroll.”

  “Good luck convincing him of that.” Harris opened the door and shoved him toward it. “And stay out until she tells you that you can come back in.”

  Stephen didn’t say anything. He was too busy storming across the lawn toward the main house.

  Numbness filled her now. A gray hollowness as her mind blanked out and she moved on automatic pilot.

  Before she could grab the chips off the floor, Harris was in front of her with a hand on her arm and his face just inches away. “You okay?”

  A wave of dizziness moved through her. “Art appraiser, my ass.”

  He shot her one of those sexy smiles. “I told you I have other skills.”

  “Apparently.” She needed to sit and regroup but she only got as far as the armrest of the couch. She plunked down and forced her mind to focus.

  “I thought he was going to . . .” Harris shook his head. “I didn’t want him touching you.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt me. Not physically.” She didn’t even know where that came from since she was no longer sure it was true. When he’d stepped toward her, in that moment, he looked like he was prepared to do whatever he needed to take her out of the family for good.

  “Your optimism is impressive but wildly naïve, Gabby. Everyone is capable of violence if pushed far enough. Don’t underestimate that.”

  “He’s my uncle.” She had to believe some bond still existed. That it wasn’t that easy for him to erase her forever.

  Harris cupped her cheek in his hand. “He’s unraveled. You’re right. He’s not your family anymore.” He briefly closed his eyes before opening them again. “Shit. I could have phrased it better.”

  But he was right. The words matched her uncle’s actions. “No, I get it.”

  “His behavior kind of makes you wonder what he would do if Tabitha ticked him off, doesn’t it?”

  Gabby couldn’t let her mind go there. Not now. She wasn’t thinking rationally or ready to take on that mental battle. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

  “Just thinking out loud.”

  “Thank you.” She took his hand in hers. “What you did was pretty chivalrous.”

  He lifted her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her waist. Let his hands rest against her lower back. “I get the idea you don’t need to be rescued very often.”

  She toyed with the zipper on his sweater. “I’ve learned if I wait around for a savior to ride to my rescue I’d be waiting a long time.”

  “Maybe it’s time you let someone in.”

  Her gaze moved up from his sweater to his face. She tried to read his expression, to figure out what exactly he was offering, but she couldn’t get a fix on him or his emotions.

  She could play games or ignore this. God knew she had enough to deal with at the moment. All smart thoughts. But when she opened her mouth for once she said what was inside her. “You already are.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “That’s big talk from a woman who professes not to feel anything.”

  But he didn’t run. Hope soared inside her at the thought and she didn’t know why. She’d started down a road she wasn’t sure she wanted to travel. “Does it scare you?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” If anything, he pulled her in even tighter.

  This was too much. Too fast. Too something.

  Her mind raced as she tried to come up with something neutral to say. “Should we check on Stephen?”

  Harris shook his head. “I’ll text Damon and warn him, but otherwise let Stephen find his own woman.”

  The word spun inside her. “Is that what I am to you?”

  “You are right now.”

  She inhaled, trying to calm her mix of jangled nerves and festering rage. Her uncle set off both inside her. The burden that weighed on her for so long eased when she saw Harris. She’d been so wary of relying on anyone for so long. So quick to push people away and keep things informal. With Harris she wanted more.

  “Do we need to get back to work?” She’d never be able to concentrate, but she could move papers around. Anything to keep her hands and mind busy.

  His arms dropped to his sides and he headed for the door.

  Disappointment rammed into her, but she managed to stay on her feet. She scooped the bag of chips off the floor and glanced up in time to see Harris throw the lock. “What are you doing?”

  “Guaranteeing some privacy.” He picked the bag out of her hand and threw it on the counter behind her. “Giving in to the need to touch you.”

  His arms slipped around her and he pulled her close. All that frustration and uncertainty drifted away. Here it was between the two of them and nothing her uncle said mattered. “Do I get to touch you back?”

  He winked at her. “I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter 19

  Two hours later Harris and Gabby walked together toward the main house. The sun had all but disappeared into a bank of puffy gray clouds. Harris still fumed. He didn’t hate many people because he usually didn’t care enough to waste time on that sort of thing. But he hated Stephen.

  Harris had hung back at the guesthouse after the standoff. The plan was to be there for her and make sure her uncle’s words hadn’t taken hold. Harris never expected he would need the time alone with her. His hands actually shook when he’d held her. A moment of comfort had morphed into something big and much scarier and then t
heir clothes were off.

  He’d spent so much of his life cultivating relationships that benefitted him but didn’t intrude on his life. The one exception was the Quint Five. He would do anything for those men and the small group of friends they’d formed. Other than with them, Harris didn’t do deep.

  He enjoyed sex. The release and the heat calmed him. But he’d kept his partners casual, even forgettable. They had fun together for a short time but neither of them looked for anything more.

  But he didn’t feel casual with her. He was invested. This amounted to more than sex for the sake of having sex.

  The topic wasn’t one he wanted to discuss or even admit to. Instead of examining it, he settled for brushing his arm against hers as they crested the hill.

  Damon stood on the porch. He looked as if he were waiting for them. He didn’t hold his usual coffee mug or any paperwork. He leaned against the porch post surveying first the land, then them.

  He waited until they joined him to step back into the house. “Did you have a nice visit with your uncle?”

  “Did he threaten to fire me?”

  “Both of us. He’s charming like that.” Damon nodded in the direction of the building down the hill. “He’s at the boathouse with Kramer, by the way.”

  They all kept walking. Harris and Gabby followed Damon into the study off the entry. Papers littered the desk. Stacks of files covered the top of the printer. He had dragged in a small table from the kitchen and two hardback chairs.

  The space had been turned into a war room. Harris knew Damon spread everything out in here because there was a lock on the door. With Stephen staying upstairs for whatever amount of time he remained on the island, they needed to be careful of exposure.

  Gabby continued to the far side of the table across the men. She pushed a few files around to read the labels on them. “Harris tried to kill him.”

  “Interesting tactic.” The lightness in Damon’s tone suggested he was impressed and more than a little supportive of the approach.

  Harris shrugged as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I only threatened to choke him until he passed out. Different thing.”

  “And a totally reasonable response.”

  The amusement was evident in Damon’s voice, but Harris didn’t find anything funny about the toxic family scene he’d walked into. “You didn’t see him come after Gabby. You probably would have shot him.”

  Gabby’s head popped up. “You have a gun here?”

  “What the fuck? Go back.” Damon put his hands on the back of the leather desk chair he’d rolled over and leaned in closer to Gabby. “What did he do to you?”

  That was more like it. Harris counted on Damon having that reaction and he didn’t disappoint.

  “It’s fine. Everyone, calm down.” She waved off the concern and went back to studying the documents in front of her. “My uncle has said much worse things to me.”

  “That’s pretty appalling.” Harris wanted to use other words to describe what he viewed as a fucking tragedy but he had vowed to stay calm. Getting all pissed off wouldn’t do her any good. But now she was staring at him and he didn’t know why. “What?”

  She smiled at him. “Nothing. You actually sounded like an art appraiser there for a second.”

  He’d never met anyone—man or woman—who took his casual acquaintance with the truth on certain subjects so well. It was as if she trusted him with her body and her secrets but nothing else. He was completely sure how he felt about that.

  But, at least for now, he planned on maintaining the cover story. “Again, it’s a real job.”

  “Yeah, you keep saying that. I don’t disagree, in general.” She pointed at him. “I just don’t think you do that job.”

  Damon pulled out a chair and sat down. “You two are cute.”

  Harris decided to derail this topic, and fast. He turned to his friend. “Did you find anything?”

  “Good pivot.” Damon gestured to the paper explosion on the table. “And, yes. A mound of data.”

  Gabby flipped through a stack of documents in front of her. “What exactly is all this?”

  “Internet records. Phone records.” Damon held up two empty coffee mugs. “I made coffee.”

  Harris looked at the tray next to Damon. It looked like he put together a few mugs, the coffeepot, a tub of sugar and a banana. An interesting and not all that helpful mix. “We’re going to need a bigger pot.”

  Gabby picked up a back statement. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”

  “That’s how this works.” Damon shot a notepad and pen flying in her direction on the only clear space on the table. “You dig and read and try to make connections. Some will be obvious. Some will be based on a feeling.”

  “That’s what your sister did on those crime forums.” So much of finding clues depended on sorting through minutiae.

  Gabby’s hands landed on the table and the paper in her hand crinkled as it folded. “It was more than that. You know that, right? She worked with this team and they did reports for law enforcement and true crime television shows. She’s worked with the Innocence Project and others.”

  The unexpected burst of defensiveness took him by surprise. “Do you think you need to sell her to me?”

  “I want you to see her as more than a statistic.” Gabby’s voice took on an added urgency. “She was flawed and confused and sometimes scared, but she was funny and sweet and absolutely dedicated to the idea that every family deserved answers about their loved ones.”

  Harris stretched an arm across the table and slipped his fingers over her clenched fist. “I’m sorry I never got to talk with her.”

  For a second no one said anything. She stared at him and he stared back, willing her to understand on this issue they were on the same side.

  Damon smacked his open hand against the top of the table with a sharp whack. “Papers.”

  With the silence broken, Harris nodded and dug in. “Right.”

  They worked for the next three hours without interruption. Every now and then one of them would hold up a document and ask for help clarifying it. They all made lists on their notepads. Harris didn’t know what was important so he highlighted anything that jumped out at him. They reviewed, analyzed and correlated. Each of them collected a stack they wanted to keep close and share with the others.

  Music filled the room from whatever service Damon used on his computer. They stayed in there with the door locked. Stephen never tried to come in, but Harris had seen him walk onto the porch just before footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  Ted and Kramer worked just outside the window, piling wood and discarded items from the fire in a big bin. The weather had gotten cooler and a storm threatened from farther out on the water. Kramer walked at his usual pace but called out orders, sending his son scurrying as they raced to miss the rain.

  But Harris had found something. Maybe important, maybe not. It was one of those anomalies that jumped out and demanded attention.

  He glanced over at Gabby. She had her hair pulled up in this convoluted knot on top of her head. He’d watched her do it. Just a pen and her hands. She didn’t use a mirror or anything. The whole thing proved his theory that women had spooky voodoo powers men would never understand. The end result was pretty stunning. She managed to be compelling without trying. Casual yet elegant with that sexy long neck and inviting mouth.

  “Tell me what you know about this team she worked with.” His voice broke into the quiet room. Both Damon and Gabby looked up at him.

  She made a humming sound. “Not much. It was online and they went back and forth on crime theories and suspects.”

  Damon leaned over. “Why, what are you looking at?”

  “Here are some transcripts for online chats. I can see the members going back and forth, talking and testing ideas.” They spent hours going through every detail of a cold case. Harris admired that level of dedication to anything. “And then this happened about ten months before Tabitha was killed.�
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  He turned the transcript copy around so both Damon and Gabby could see. With the tip of his pen, Harris pointed to a line about halfway down the page.

  Gabby picked the page up and scanned it again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

  “A new member.” After months of debating with a set number of members, someone else came on the scene. “Crimesleuthing.”

  Damon whistled. “That’s quite a username.”

  That was not the part Harris found most interesting. He glanced at his notes and he laid out the theory. “He or she starts right before Tabitha’s birthday. Talks to members on open forums, gets invited to the much smaller private group.” That alone might not be significant, but that wasn’t all. “There are chats between Tabitha and this person, just the two of them, right up until she died.”

  “Looks like the night before,” Damon said.

  Gabby hadn’t eased up on her double-fisted grip on the papers. “You got this from Tabitha’s internet information? The same information we’re going to pretend was legally obtained.”

  “Yeah, let’s pretend we did.” If they started waiting for probable cause and subpoenas they’d never get anywhere. Worse, they’d tip off anyone who was watching that there was movement in the case and where it came from.

  “It looks like we have a new unsub.” Damon stretched as he reached for the coffeepot, which had already been refilled three times since they all sat down.

  “Unknown subject,” Harris said, explaining the technical term.

  “I know. I watch television.” Gabby frowned at him as if to say he was the one who lingered two steps behind, not her. “You’re thinking this person stalked Tabitha and then . . . what?”

  They shouldn’t add two and two and get seven. Harris didn’t want her jumping to conclusions or filling in blanks. That meant he needed to keep the expectations low. “She’s careful but identities can be cracked. We may have a guy who figured out who she was, how much money she had, and came to find her. Or it could mean nothing.”