Page 10 of The Pretender

Harris cleared his throat. “You two seem close.”

“That business he has to rush off to likely involves having me arrested.” She said it as a joke but she feared it might not be.

“For talking back to him?” Harris sat down on the stone porch railing right across from her.

“At this point I think he’s actually convinced I’m guilty of multiple murders.”

Harris frowned. “That’s a pretty extreme level of family dysfunction.”

His voice sounded so genuine. The comment even carried a note of question, as if he were wondering out loud what could possibly lead an uncle to making those sort of comments to his own niece.

It was garbage. Oh, Harris had a good act. All concerned and acting as if he was just dropped there and doing his job. She didn’t buy it at all. “Let’s not do this.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to pretend you don’t know.”

He shook his head. “You lost me.”

“I assume someone filled you in on my family. If not Uncle Stephen, you’ve at least seen the news or heard rumors.” Pundits and so-called experts had spent hours of television time dissecting every move and every Wright holiday for years. “The only thing I ask is that you give me the courtesy of not pretending to be surprised when you’re not.”

To his credit, he nodded. She’d expected more denial and maybe a ratcheting up of the I’m-just-sitting-here act he had going, but he abandoned it all.

“Fair enough.” He tapped his fingertips together as his gaze searched her face.

“I’m guessing you have a hundred questions.” Not that she intended to answer any of them.

“There are whispers you killed your sister.”

Gabby tucked one of her legs beneath her and rocked the chair with her other foot. “They’re more than whispers. I’ve been questioned by the police multiple times.”

“There are those who believe you killed your parents before you killed your sister.”

The allegation sliced through her until an ache settled deep in her bones. “Their plane crashed. But yes, there are those who think I picked up a mechanical engineering degree—in secret, I guess—and then used that knowledge to kill them. Really, people will make up any fact to fit with their theories about my supposed guilt.”

He shot her a sad smile. “You’ve been busy.”

“And a sociopath, apparently.” She couldn’t imagine the kind of person she’d have to be to cut a swath through her family the way people claimed.

“The only other piece of information I know is that you’ve been disinherited.”

“You forgot the part where I faked my own kidnapping when I was nineteen.” Everything started there with the allegations she had set it all up to get her parents’ money. Once people believed that, they would believe any horror story about her.

She could still hear the claims. The spoiled college kid and her friends trying to rob the poor, innocent rich couple. That was the spin the magazines and newspapers put on the story. Never mind the truth.

He shrugged. “I just hadn’t gotten to that one yet.”

His light tone kept her anxiety from spiking. She never talked about family. Certainly didn’t discuss rumors with strangers. But sitting there with the cool breeze hitting her face, rocking back and forth with her head resting against the chair, the rest of the world fell away.

His voice, so soothing, almost inviting, had the tension unspooling inside her. If he was judging her, he hid it well. If this was an interrogation, he wouldn’t get anything out of her anyway. The truth was the truth.

“My list of supposed sins is pretty long,” she said.

He nodded. “You do have quite the colorful history.”

“I actually don’t. That’s the point.”

He leaned forward with his elbows balanced on his thighs. “Every family has secrets, Gabby.”

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