Page 20 of The Pretender

Just as he was drifting off five minutes later, he heard her voice.

“It’s not what you think,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

He opened his eyes but stayed still. “Okay.”

“I didn’t kill my sister.”

“I know.” He was absolutely certain of that.

“Remember that feeling.” She let out a loud sigh. “Because the evidence is going to say I did.”

Chapter 6

Gabby didn’t say anything to him the next morning. She was showered, dressed, up and out before he even got off the floor. The woman could move when she had a goal. The goal clearly being to avoid him.

Since she didn’t want to go into the main house and they were stuck on an island, he doubted she’d get far. But he walked over to the boathouse just in case. The sound of a motor got him moving. He heard a boat pull up to the dock. While he didn’t think she’d run, he wasn’t taking the chance.

Cool, overcast weather had moved in. Gray clouds filled the sky and the air carried a touch of dampness. He zipped up his sweater and walked faster.

The boat beat him there. Two men moved around on board. One faced away from him, sitting and shifting and collecting what looked like a bag under his seat. This had to be the mysterious investigator.

Harris wasn’t exactly looking forward to putting his body between Gabby and some by-the-book guy Stephen hired, even if Wren had interfered in some way. But that was what Harris was there for. Gather intel and keep Gabby out of the investigator’s sight. An unspoken—unknown to her—debt weighed heavily between them and Harris vowed to repay it.

“Hello!” The other guy, the one driving the boat, jumped off and secured the lines.

Harris recognized him from the photos Wren provided in his briefing file. Craig Pak. He was in his midtwenties and very sharp. First-generation with Korean parents. A hard worker who left an entry-level lobbyist position to start his own business. He’d taken over a failed boating service and in just two years started making decent money ferrying tourists and homeowners around the area and to the private islands off the coast. Sometimes he led tours, so both locals and tourists knew him.

The guy found a niche and filled it. He already was considered an expert and reliable. Wren also cited Craig as a potential good source of information because he traveled back and forth to the island with supplies and knew Tabitha. She was twenty-two when she died and Craig was only two years older.

Harris was about to break into small talk when the boat’s passenger stood up and turned around. One look and Harris knew he was in deep shit. Wren’s words came back to him. Something about having arranged for Harris to have help. Knowing Wren’s twisted sense of humor,thiswas the help.

Damon Knox. One of the Quint Five. A friend from way back and a total smart-ass. He pretended to be an investigator and worked back channels. He stepped in when Wren needed assistance or someone to play a role.

Damon was good at pretending to be someone he wasn’t. And now he was here, on Tabitha Island, pretending to be Stephen’s hired hack.

Harris waited until Damon and Craig exchanged some boring chitchat and talked about the weather. After a quick handshake between Craig and Harris, Craig headed off in the direction of Kramer’s cottage.

Once out of earshot, Harris glared at Damon. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Damon slapped Harris on the shoulder then handed him a duffle bag. “And good morning to you, too, Harris.”

Harris dropped the bag by his feet. He had no intention of playing Damon’s assistant for the next few days.

“What are you...” Harris didn’t bother to finish the question. They both knew the answer. “Wren sent you.”

Damon winked. “Consider me your savior.”

“Not really a word I’d use.”

Damon never did anything easy. He tended to pull things apart just to see if he could put them back together again. Not computers or phones—people’s lives. Damon liked to read people. Assess, compile intel and make educated guesses. He’d be a star in FBI forensics if he worked there, but his background prevented that type of work. The only way he’d qualify for a security clearance was if Wren faked Damon’s background, which he likely did to convince Stephen to hire Damon.

Harris couldn’t imagine all the hoop-jumping and loop-closing Wren had maneuvered through to make this—Damon here on the island and in charge—happen. The man really was damn good at fixing things.

“I’m pretty sure my role here has something to do with saving humanity and restoring your tainted dignity.” Damon shrugged. “You know. The usual.”

“I see your ego is healthy, as always.” Harris always admired that about Damon. To most of the world he seemed understated. The kind of man who stood back and watched, waiting for the right time to move in. Only the few who knew him got to see the real man behind the quiet exterior. “And that’s quite a job description.”

“Actually, Wren said my job is to babysit you—”

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