The Pretender

by HelenKay Dimon

  Harris put a hand on her knee, smoothed his fingers over her. “Think, Gabby.”

  She conducted a mental inventory of the island. Every building and every space. “She liked gardening and to sit on the second-story balcony. She loved the fire pit and the pool, though not as much as she did as a kid.”

  Harris shook his head. “What didn’t she like?”

  “What?”

  “If this is something she wanted to hide, something she needed to keep separate from herself, she wouldn’t put it where she could see it every day.” He turned in his chair, moved in closer. “Where didn’t she go?”

  That was easy. “The boathouse.”

  Harris continued to study her. “Why?”

  She could almost see his mind working. He was taking all of the information and compiling it. “Tabitha thought the boathouse was creepy. It can be loud in there, and the upstairs was always a mess. She talked about tearing it down and just using the dock.”

  “Right.” He stood up.

  “Right?”

  He reached down for her. “That’s where we’re going.”

  It took them five minutes to get there. Every step of the way, Harris scanned the area. He didn’t expect anyone to jump out at them, but nothing would surprise him at this point.

  The attacks, the fire—the moves reeked of desperation. The risk of jumping Gabby on a contained island were huge. Damon was right there when the fire started. He could have seen something. It was only by luck—the attacker’s luck—he didn’t.

  Harris finally thought he knew why this was happening now. No one stole the map and the papers relating to the kidnapping. Tabitha hid them, and with her gone the possibility of them being uncovered loomed.

  For whatever reason, she’d clearly gotten nervous about the original location of the paperwork and took everything out. Now the documents were somewhere else, but they were not gone. If she’d destroyed them no one would be searching. No, someone was desperate to find that stash, which meant they were in a race to get to it first.

  They walked into the bottom floor of the boathouse. The smell of fish and water and wet earth hit him. The mix was concentrated in here because of the walls on three sides. So strong it made him gag.

  The steady beat of waves sliding into the open slip and lapping against the back wall mesmerized him. Like Tabitha, he didn’t see the reason for the two-story structure. He would take it apart with his bare hands if he had to.

  “Where do we start?” Gabby stood on the side with her hands on her hips. Her gaze traveled over the nets and lines and hooks on the walls. Lots of fishing equipment and a few shelves. The kayaks Harris doubted anyone used.

  Off to the side Harris spied what looked like a boat engine that had been taken apart and now sat there. He doubted anyone had worked on it for a long time since it had cobwebs on it. He inspected it anyway, looked around it for footprints. The only trail he saw was the one lone one toward the ladder. He was pretty sure that came from his look around up there when he first got on the island.

  The boxes and shelves. The memory hit him as he stood at the bottom of the rungs.

  “Upstairs.”

  Gabby seemed to snap out of the daydream that had her standing there in silence. “What?”

  “The place to hide something would be upstairs. There’s no water up there and very little reason to venture up these steps.” He put a hand on the ladder mounted to the wall.

  Gabby moved closer and peeked up into the open space above her. “Tabitha would hate it up there.”

  Exactly his point. “She only had to go up there once.” Harris started climbing then stopped. He looked down at Gabby. “I can do this alone if you want.”

  She shook her head. “We’re in this together.”

  He liked the sound of that. Too much. He liked everything about her too much. He even liked who he was when he was with her.

  This emotion crap was a pain in the ass.

  No wonder he ran in the opposite direction. He should have this time, too.

  His shoes thudded on the top floor as he stood up. Reaching down, he helped her through the open hole and into the storage space.

  She made a face as she looked around. “I don’t even know what’s up here.”

  “Let’s hope a map and some paperwork.”

  Gabby touched a shelf then held up her fingers to show off the layer of dust she collected. “It doesn’t look like anyone has been on this floor in months.”

  “Which makes your sister pretty damn smart.” Harris studied the floorboards then scanned the ceiling.

  He was sure they were in the right place. The space was stifling. With the window closed very little air moved around up here. It smelled stale and old. Everything he touched felt damp from the humidity. He heard a noise and turned to see her dragging a box off the shelf and opening it.

  The cardboard creaked as she folded the sides down. “Huh.”

  “What is it?” He walked over to stand next to her and peered inside.

  She lifted out an empty bottle and brushed her finger over the label. “This is from my great-grandfather’s illegal brew.” She shook her head. “The whole family had an alcohol issue.”

  “Why would someone keep that?” He didn’t really get family nostalgia. He liberated paintings and other artwork in the name of it, so he’d benefitted from that sense of wanting to be tied to the past. He just never understood it. The past was something you overcame.

  “Why do people collect anything?” She looked around again. “There is a huge house sitting on the other side of the island. This room seems like a waste.”

  Every word she said made him more convinced. The room was useless. There was no reason to be up there, and Tabitha would hate the ladder. So, anyone who knew her would think she’d skip this as a hiding place. It only made sense.

  For the next half hour, they unloaded every box on the shelves on the right side and rifled through the contents. They found plenty of papers, just not the right papers. They looked inside things and around things. The dust kicked up and they coughed. And nothing.

  “We’re going to suffocate up here.” Gabby got up from her seat on the floor.

  She wiped her hands on the back of her jeans, smearing the dust over her ass. Harris almost didn’t want to tell her. He’d rather wipe his hands all over her, too.

  “You may have to burn those jeans,” he said as he sat there and watched her move. Those sexy hips swayed and her neck glistened with sweat as she pulled her hair up and held it there.

  She shot him a you’re-out-of-your-mind look. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to find jeans that fit?”

  “Uh, ten seconds.” He didn’t find picking clothes off a shelf all that daunting.

  She snorted. “You’re such a guy.”

  Okay, but . . . “There’s a size on them. You read the size, try them on and you’re done.”

  “Oh, no.” She wagged a finger at him. “That’s only the start. Sizes differ from designer to designer. Some pockets make your butt look huge.”

  He knew he was in way over his head on this discussion and threw up the white flag. “Who knew it was such a complicated process?”

  “Every woman everywhere.”

  “Oh.” And that was all he had on that topic, so he shut up.

  “That’s right.” She turned around and unlocked the window. With a grunt, she tried to lift it but it didn’t budge. “Can you help me with this?”

  “What are you trying to do?” As far as he was concerned they could suck it up for another half hour and get out of there, hopefully with what they needed.

  “Open the window and let some air in before we either sweat to death or keel over from a lack of fresh air.”

  He stood next to her and stared out the window to the empty dock below. “That’s not dramatic or anything.”

  “I am the one person on this island who might have sex with you later. You should probably keep that in mind before being a smart-ass.�
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  “A very compelling argument. Let’s get this open.” He stepped in front of her and shoved on the glass. It didn’t move at all. Figuring it had been painted shut he slammed the side of his hand against the right side, trying to knock the old and peeling paint loose.

  Nothing happened.

  “I thought so.” She joined in pulling. “It’s stuck on this side.”

  She pointed to the right side. The molding around the window had either slipped or been put on wrong. The color was slightly off from the original paint and didn’t crack like in other spots. It was probably added later, maybe to fix a leak or hole.

  “The frame is too far over. It . . . wait.” He went over to one of the boxes they’d searched and rummaged through until he found the screwdriver. With the end wedged under the edge of the molding, he shoved. The wood cracked and splintered and a top piece fell off. “What the hell?”

  Gabby crouched down and picked up the folded pieces of paper that had been hidden in the fake frame. She held them up to him. “Tabitha’s hiding place.”

  He stuffed the screwdriver in his back pocket. “Sweet damn. Good job, Tabitha.”

  Gabby stood up and immediately headed for the ladder. “Let’s go.”

  Her demeanor had changed. She shifted from ready to go to wary. It was as if she couldn’t get out of the second story fast enough.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he followed her.

  She stopped at the top of the ladder and wiped her hands down her arms. “I don’t know. Holding the papers makes me nervous.”

  “Here, give them to me.” He refolded the papers and stuffed them in his front pants pocket. “Now down the ladder.”

  Her sneakers thudded against each rung. “What if they don’t show anything?”

  Anxiety welled in him. He wanted to blame her and the sudden change of mood, but a new sensation hit him. Tension wound around him and all of a sudden he wished he’d brought his gun rather than leave it in the guesthouse. “Keep moving.”

  They made it downstairs and stepped through the side door and into the sunshine . . . and right into Stephen and Ted.

  “Hey.” Ted offered the informal greeting as he put a hand out and steadied Gabby.

  Harris could hear her labored breathing and see the wildness in her eyes. She’d reached some turning point where she wanted this to be done now. He could see it in every line of her body. Her muscles were pulled taut, to the point of snapping.

  Harris rushed to fill in the gap. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Waiting for Craig to get here,” Stephen said. “I have some contractor meetings. He’s bringing some people over. One of us needs to look after the house. Ted and I have been talking about things that need to be done as part of the estate. He has a list and is going to join me.”

  Some of the energy bouncing around Gabby became more focused. She centered it on her uncle. “And you didn’t think to include me in any of this?”

  “No.” Stephen dismissed her without even a glance and stared at Harris. “Where were you two?”

  “Upstairs.”

  Harris liked the way Gabby kept her answer simple. It was a power play, but it seemed to work. The more terse she got, the more pissed off and fuming her uncle became.

  “I thought I heard banging on the window.” Stephen performed a quick glance up to the second floor before looking at Harris again. “What did you expect to accomplish?”

  Harris debated taking this step. He had two out of three suspects in front of him and Gabby seemed to be unraveling at the idea of carrying this out much longer. A person could only take so much stress and everyone kept piling it on her. Add in the difficulty of holding what might be the only evidence to resolve this thing and the pressure built.

  “We needed to retrieve some papers.” Harris fought off the urge to tuck the papers deeper into his pocket.

  “From my grandfather’s boxes?” Stephen asked.

  Gabby didn’t flinch. “These belonged to Tabitha.”

  Her voice stayed firm and clear. She was not playing around. She was in it to end it, and he loved that about her.

  The point was to lay the groundwork. Harris didn’t want Gabby to act as a target, but he would. He’d put his body in front of hers and take whatever hit might come.

  “They’ll settle some questions once and for all.” Harris had no idea if that was true, but he wanted to provide a united front. He even moved closer to Gabby. There was no going back to the house or waiting this out now. “When Craig gets here, we’ll have him take us into Baltimore.”

  “Why?” Stephen asked.

  Gabby smiled but there was nothing sweet about that deadly grin. “That’s where the lawyers are.”

  Harris took a step toward the dock and Ted stepped in front of him.

  Fucking hell.

  Harris didn’t want it to be the kid. Stephen, even Kramer, but not this. “Are you going to stop me, Ted?”

  He nodded. “Whatever it takes.”

  Chapter 24

  Gabby blinked as her mind raced to process what she was seeing. One minute Ted stood there, hanging out with her uncle and saying hello. Now he blocked Harris’s path, using his body and the shovel he was holding to do it.

  “You?” It was the only word she could think to say.

  Ted’s expression was blank. Not angry. Not anything. “Just give me the papers and we’ll go our separate ways.”

  Harris didn’t move. She could see the screwdriver in his pocket. Her gaze swept over him, but she didn’t see any sign of that gun he supposedly had. She debated calling out for Damon but that shovel stopped her. If he swung it he could hit Harris or her uncle. She had no idea what Ted was capable of at this point.

  “What’s going on here?” Stephen asked, still sounding indignant.

  Harris’s gaze never left Ted. “I think Ted here is admitting to killing Tabitha.”

  “What?” Stephen’s face fell. It was as if every muscle gave out.

  “I’m not saying anything of the sort.” Ted tightened his grip on the shovel handle. He looked ready for battle now. “I know about the papers and that Tabitha didn’t want them released. She was trying to protect Gabby.”

  “Me?” The verbal hit came so fast Gabby couldn’t prepare or block it. He was blaming her. One more person shoving the responsibility off himself and onto her. The thought stunned her. Pissed her off.

  “Everyone knows you were involved in your own kidnapping. Tabitha didn’t want anyone to be able to prove it.” Ted was in full acting mode now. He looked concerned and talked a big game.

  “You . . . you killed Tabitha to protect some stupid papers?” Stephen frowned at her as he stuttered his way through the question.

  Screw this. If Ted wanted a battle she’d give him one. She was done with taking shit and being the bad guy. Only one person standing there had something to lose today and for once it was not her. This time she would not run away or back down.

  “Not me.” Her voice shook from the force of her anger. All those years, all that loss. The fear and unease she’d felt upstairs in the boathouse vanished. Adrenaline-fueled fury raced through her now. “It was you all those years ago, wasn’t it? You were one of the kidnappers I couldn’t recognize because you didn’t talk and I was blindfolded.”

  Ted shook his head. “Give it up, Gabby. Your uncle and I know the truth.”

  Stephen opened his mouth and she waited for him to condemn her. This time the words would bounce off her. She refused to feel guilty for one more thing she hadn’t done. She’d been barely out of high school when she said something stupid and other people acted on it. Not her. Never her. Now she was an adult and she owned her mistakes, and this wasn’t one of them.

  “What do you mean extra kidnappers?” Stephen looked at her. “I don’t get it.”

  Her mouth dropped open. The shock of having him ask instead of make demands and rule from above had her fighting to find the right words in her head.

  T
he story was long and convoluted, so she tried to cut it short. “I knew the mastermind behind the kidnapping. He was a friend. He gathered people to help him.”

  Ted nodded as he took a step closer. “And you worked with him to set the entire thing up.”

  “Stop.” Harris moved his body so he stood right in front of her now. “She didn’t. Wrong sister.”

  Her desire to get this out battled with her ingrained need to cover for Tabitha. There was so much to tell, so many wounds they’d need to heal. They didn’t need to add this piece. “Harris, no.”

  He didn’t turn around. His gaze stayed locked on Ted. “Tell your uncle the truth.”

  Bile rushed up her throat. That familiar urge to fight back and run hit her. Tabitha was her sister. Her baby sister. “This isn’t about—”

  “She’s gone, Gabby. She doesn’t need your protection. I don’t think she’d want it. Not at this price.”

  Ted’s gaze moved from her to Harris. The roar of a speedboat engine whizzed by in the distance but didn’t approach the island. The warm sun beamed down on them, but no one moved.

  “Someone explain . . .” Her uncle’s voice trailed off. The confusion was evident in his flat tone. Gone was the controlling, angry guy who’d come after her in the guesthouse. He slumped over looking lost right now.

  “She saved the papers, moved the papers, to give you this chance.” Harris put his hand on his hip. Two of his fingers inched toward that screwdriver. “Don’t waste it.”

  Ted started shaking his head. “Don’t listen to him, Gabby. You don’t want to do this. Don’t implicate Tabitha to save yourself. You’ll never be able to live with that.”

  “You’re a piece of fucking work,” Harris said in a harsh tone.

  Just a few days ago she would have fallen for the way Ted played on her guilt and her sympathy. Retreated and saved Tabitha at all costs. Not today. Harris was right. Tabitha would never have wanted this ending, not for either of them. It was so hard to turn this ship. She’d been on the same course for so long that she operated on autopilot, but she would make it happen.

  “Wait, you mean Tabitha?” Stephen faced Ted then looked over at Gabby. “You’re saying she was in on it?”