Gabby’s frown only deepened. “You think someone snuck on the island all those months ago and then did it again the other night just to burn down the library?”
Admittedly it sounded ridiculous when she spelled it out like that, but he did see an opening for how it might have happened. “If the person thought there was evidence proving a connection to Tabitha, that could explain it. Your inheritance issues have been in the news. How hard would it be to dig around and figure out the island might be sold or at least have a new owner soon?”
“I’m never going to live here.” She visibly shivered as she made that declaration.
“Unless you’ve said that to a reporter and it’s all over the internet, this person likely wouldn’t know that.” But Harris understood. Being there temporarily and limiting the time spent inside the main house made the visit tolerable. She could pick an end date in her head, think of a future somewhere else. But moving onto the island meant living with the memories every single minute. Harris hadn’t been able to do that in his own life.
He’d relocated across the country to keep from getting entangled or ending up as his mother’s lifeline to the outside world. So, he got it.
“So now we get more records from this forum and try to trace this guy.” Damon leaned back in his chair. “I also want to search through the data collected from the cloned phones from Craig and Stephen.”
Gabby eyed up the darkening skies outside and the almost empty coffeepot. “It’s going to be a long night.”
She needed a break. For him and Damon this was work. It centered on trying to clear her name, and without anyone knowing he was even involved, Harris’s. But for her this was about investigating friends and family. Emotionally it had to tug and pull at her. Knowing the truth sounded good unless the truth meant more heartache.
“You head to bed.” Harris looked around at the stacks on the floor they hadn’t touched yet. “We’ll organize what we have, then I’ll be there.”
She looked like she was going to argue but then she nodded. “Okay.”
He stood up. “I can walk you back.”
“I’m fine.” But her eyes were starting to droop and the rest of her hair slipped out of that makeshift knot on the top of her head.
Harris found the look pretty adorable, but she did need sleep. “Since I almost strangled your uncle this afternoon, I’m not sure that’s true.”
“It’s a full island.” She stood up and sighed at them in the men-are-so-difficult way she’d perfected. “Uncle Stephen and Kramer were over by the fire pit earlier. Ted and Craig went to the boathouse to pick up something Ted spilled when he was working in there earlier.”
As a show of independence or defiance or whatever, it sounded like she planned on fighting this to the end. Unlucky for her, so did he. “Is that information supposed to make us feel more secure?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Damon folded his arms behind him. “You can kiss. I won’t watch.”
She frowned at him. “You’re kind of nosy.”
“Right?” But Harris thought it sounded like a damn fine idea.
He maneuvered her out of the study. After a quick look at the staircase to see if Stephen had come down, Harris opened the front screen door and guided her outside with a hand on the small of her back. A second visual scan of the grounds for trouble convinced him that the island was quiet. He could see the fire pit blazing and hear male laughter.
He could watch every step from this position as she walked to the guesthouse so he decided to let the subject drop. But not the kiss.
He leaned down and caught her mouth with his. That fast the exhaustion drained away. Every muscle burst to life. When he lifted his head he thought about suggesting they go back and test out that table in the guesthouse. The thing looked sturdy enough to hold them both. But then he saw the strain it took for her to keep her eyes open and he dropped the subject.
“I’ll be down soon.”
She reached up with a hand around the back of his neck and gave him a kiss that suggested she might not be that tired after all. “Wake me when you get in.”
Harris reentered the study a few minutes later. He didn’t realize he was whistling until Damon stared at him with one eyebrow raised. That was enough to cut off the tune.
“So, Uncle Stephen.” Damon hadn’t changed his position. He still leaned the chair back to the point of tipping and folded his hands behind his head.
With just the two of them in the room Harris didn’t have to weigh his words. “Even after he calmed down I almost choked the guy just for fun.”
Damon shook his head. “Let’s not do that. Then we’d have to cover up a rich guy’s death and Wren would get angry.”
“He’s off.”
Damon tipped the chair forward. “Wren?”
“Don’t be a dumbass. Stephen. The rage, the way he went after Gabby, it was pretty sick.” Unreasonable, bloated, troublesome. A lot of words fit.
“Weird since they’re related.”
“We both know blood ties do not guarantee people get along.” Harris had unwanted personal experience on that front. He’d seen the same loss of control when his father found out about his mother’s secret life.
He’d morphed into a different man, a violent and bitter one, in the space of a few hours. The news hit him and changed everything. He’d prided himself on maintaining the perfect family portrait to the world. The right wife. A child he could mold. Then the bottom fell out. He’d been living a lie. Not only did that upend his world, it made him a laughingstock.
It also made him the guy who should have known. There were endless debates, including by the police and prosecutors, about his dad’s complicity. Harris knew his father was in the dark. He also knew that more than once his mother had used him, her own son, as cover while she stole items.
Learning those secrets changed everything. He’d funneled the shock into figuring out why she’d done it, which meant trying it himself. His father retreated into a hard shell. He lashed out. He called her names. He threatened to kill her.
That profound loss of perspective never corrected itself. The more his father learned, the more he hated Harris’s mom. Harris sensed Stephen had gotten sucked into that same vicious whirlpool of hate. It didn’t excuse what he did to Gabby. Nothing could. But it did make Harris worry that Gabby would never move out of her uncle’s target.
“It’s as if he no longer views her as human.” That was the sickest part to Harris. The one that made him fear for her safety and want to convince Stephen, with fists if necessary, to back down. “You’d think he’d hold it together since there isn’t any evidence.”
“There are statements from some of her supposed friends that say she planned her kidnapping. But there’s nothing that suggests she killed Tabitha.”
Harris instinctively knew there never would be. Gabby might be flawed and human, but she’d loved and protected her sister the best she could.
That led Harris right back to the problem family member. “What’s the uncle’s money situation?”
“Now, that’s interesting. It is a bit of a question mark because he and the wife are negotiating a divorce settlement. No prenup.” Damon moved the files around until he found court documents that were filed by Stephen’s wife but never served. “Rich people, man. Go figure.”
“Let’s dig in.” Harris had an incentive. He not only wanted Gabby safe, he wanted to go to her. Tonight, soon . . . now. That meant more work and he was ready to take it on. “You better make more coffee.”
Chapter 20
Gabby was restless. She wanted to blame the frantic roller-coaster ride she’d been on for the emotional fallout, but she worried there might be a much simpler cause—Harris. He hadn’t come back to the guesthouse yet.
She’d spent so much of her adult life alone. She had friends and people she hung out with at different jobs. But the deep, could-say-anything meaty relationships always failed her. Or she failed them. The idea of getting that
close repelled her.
The people who were supposed to love her unconditionally had put limits on their feelings for her. She disappointed them. They didn’t believe her and demanded she win back their love. She had to prove herself. Only Tabitha had provided a link to the life she once had, and Gabby had cherished that until she lost that, too.
Her entire life had been about loss. Loss of people. Loss of trust. Loss of what she knew and believed in. She developed a hard coating to survive. Accepted what happened and her role in it. Tried to push through, and usually could, but some days the harshness of it all dragged her down. Best her into submission.
With everything she’d been through and handled, the idea of being reliant on someone else in order to get a solid night’s sleep struck her as more than a little annoying. It wasn’t that she’d somehow surrendered her independence over the course of a few days, but she did enjoy being with him. He made her smile. She’d laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. The sex was amazing but the comfort, the sensation of mattering to someone else, felt even better.
But the bed truly sucked. She kicked off the covers, letting her heels bounce against the mattress, and looked around the dark bedroom. The storm hadn’t blown in yet but it was headed for them. The breeze had kicked up and moisture hung in the air. When she’d walked back to the guesthouse earlier a fine mist filled the air. She towel-dried her damp skin and hair.
She loved the moodiness of this sort of weather. Dark clouds. A coolness tucked under the humidity. The sound of rain pounding on a roof. Everything washed away and new again.
She sat up, letting her feet dangle over the side of the bed. Pressed her toes against the hardwood floor. The idea of changing out of her soft PJ shorts combination didn’t hold any appeal. But maybe wandering outside, smelling the early start of the storm and walking in the soft wind would clear her head enough to be able to drift off.
One benefit of living on an island was supposed to be privacy. There were people around but not many. Still, she decided to throw on a sweater and reached for the one over the back of the chair. Harris’s scent hit her immediately. She slipped it on and the edge of the cotton dropped down to her upper thighs. The too-long sleeves hid her hands. She wrapped the oversized garment around her, pretending it still held the warmth of Harris’s body, as her hand touched the door handle.
She stepped onto the icy-cold patio stones and hissed. The wind whipped around her and tunneled up her loose shorts. The mist still lingered but it didn’t soak her.
The practical side of her brain clicked to life. She should go in and get dressed or go to bed. She skipped both options. With quiet steps she walked around to the side of the guesthouse that faced the water. The journey chilled every part of her, but she didn’t go back in. Didn’t want to.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled the familiar welcoming scent of water and freshly mowed grass. The storm likely would erase the last of the fiery residue that had settled over the island. The smoke had long ago cleared but the stank muskiness lingered. Soon that would pass, too.
The wind carried her hair, making it dance as it blew across her face. Standing there she heard the rustling of tree branches and the lapping of the water against the coastline. Tabitha used to talk about standing on the second-floor balcony and letting the cold air wash over her. Her voice would carry this sound of awe.
Gabby understood. It filled her with wonder to be alone while nature churned around her. It humbled her even as it filled her with a strange sense of power.
She put her arms out to the sides and let the wind catch the sweater. The material flapped against her chest and sides, not providing any protection or heat. Tipping her head back, she faced the sky with closed eyes and waited for the first drops of harder rain to fall.
The rustling gave way to an odd crunching. Before she could open her eyes, fingers clamped down on her wrist. The punishing hold had her crying out in pain. A mix of surprise and fear flooded her. She opened her mouth to scream for help and a hand slapped against her lips. A giant weight pressed against her back. She kicked out, trying to nail her attacker in the shin, but when her bare feet met bone a shudder ran through her.
She threw her elbows and tried to reach behind her and punch. The move twisted her shoulder to the point of breaking but she did not stop. She waited for a knife’s edge to slice through her or a hard knock to the head to drop her to the ground. That was how her sister died. In a violent mix of stabbing and punching.
She refused to go out that way.
Throwing her weight to the side, she lost her balance. She grabbed for the attacker’s hair and touched material . . . a mask?
Through it all, hands held her in a steel grip. An arm snaked around her throat and her breath choked off. Her mind raced back to the guesthouse and Harris’s chokehold on Stephen. She searched her memory for a way out, tried to remember if Harris told her how to break the clench.
Her neck ached as she gave into a sputtering cough. Then her body went airborne. Strong arms picked her up and threw her. She tried to grab on to anything, to find some leverage, but she only grabbed air. Nothing else stirred around her.
“Harris!” She screamed as loudly as she could, hoping the house and the wind didn’t block the sound.
As she turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of her attacker, he rammed into her from the side. His shoulder connected with her rib cage. The body slam knocked her into the side of the house and she went tumbling. Her fingernails scraped against the stucco as she tried to break her fall.
She landed hard on the soggy ground. It squished around her. Not waiting to be rescued, she crawled around, moving as fast as possible as she tried to remember what might be sitting on the patio that could help her. The world spun around in her head and she tried to think of which way to move.
Concentrate.
Her gaze fell on the stone wall. She lunged for it.
Heavy footsteps followed her. The dark figure dove for her just as she reached the end of the wall. She picked up handfuls of dirt and threw those. Some hit him. Some pelted the ground. He didn’t make any noise but he fell back, grabbing at the ski mask he wore.
She screamed. Put her whole body into it. Yelled for Harris and Damon.
But she had to stall. On her knees, she scrambled toward the shrubs, feeling around the dirt for anything she could use as a weapon. A rock dug into her palm and she picked it up. Whipped it at him just as he ducked to the side. She had no idea if she hit him, but he shifted away from her, to the far edge of the patio.
Not ready to give in she picked up more rocks and threw them, letting out another scream as she hurled the handful directly at the attacker. One handful then another. When her fingers wrapped around a garden shovel she picked it up and chucked it into the darkness. Then he was gone.
The attack had taken less than a minute. She’d raced through every second even though the individual beats moved in slow motion in her head.
The adrenaline deserted her. It drained from her body, leaving her weak and unable to stand. Her chest heaved from the force of her harsh breaths. She slumped back onto the ground, trying to remember every detail for later.
She needed her legs to move and energy to swamp her so she could run after the figure but he’d disappeared. She listened for a splash but didn’t hear one.
A noise broke through her conscience. Harris yelling. He shouted her name over and over through a thunder of footsteps.
“Gabby! Where are you?”
She glanced up as he and Damon ran around the corner. She tried to say something, to force words out, but all she could do was shake her head. Through the haze she focused on one fact—an attacker could only go so far on an island. But she could narrow it down. She pointed in the direction of where the attacker ran.
“You take care of her.” Damon stopped long enough to touch her shoulder then took off.
“Are you okay?” Harris sounded out of breath and shaky as he kneeled on the ground next to her
.
“I think so.” That was all she could get out.
Strong arms wrapped around her. Immediately heat enveloped her and his scent seeped into her. He rocked her back and forth as his hand brushed up and down her back. She tried to swallow, be brave . . . all that. She promised to get right on that as soon as her teeth stopped chattering.
She heard a noise and then Damon was there, too. He squatted down and stared at her. She saw the gun in his hand. “Did you find him?”
Damon shook his head. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. He was wearing a mask.”
“Tall. Young or old?”
“I really don’t know. It all happened so fast and blended together.” Pieces of what happened bombarded her brain. The guy’s grip. How he never made a sound. “But it was a him. Strong. Determined. He surprised me when he attacked.”
“Shit.” Harris ran a hand down her arm then over her leg. “Did he hurt you?”
“He threw me into the building.” That thought came back to her as he looked at her dirt-caked fingernails and her butt slipped deeper into the muddy area near the bushes.
The color drained from Harris’s face. “What?”
“I’m fine.” Her teeth kept knocking together and she didn’t think it was from the cold. “Stunned me more than anything.”
Rain began to fall harder. No longer a mist, the drops pinged on the roof and uncovered patio chairs. Lightning flashed in the distance.
“We should get inside,” Damon said as he stood up.
Harris continued to sit with her. He cradled her on his lap, surrounding her with a bit of protection from the wind. “Can you walk?”
“We need to find everyone and . . .” She didn’t actually know what came next but gathering suspects felt right. Everyone needed to be questioned. There was the issue of alibis and whereabouts. Maybe they could find the dark clothes.
“No.” Harris offered the sharp response as he lifted them to their feet.
“What?” She leaned against his side. Her brain shouted for her to stand up straight and get it together, but she wanted to burrow in even deeper. Her arms shook as her fingernails dug into his shirt.
The Pretender Page 20