Page 22 of The Pretender

“I am sorry about going radio silent.” That didn’t cover it, but it cost Harris something to even say that much. He wasn’t a man accustomed to apologizing or accepting blame.

“You mean for skipping town? For not taking my calls? For being a complete dick?”

“All of it.” Harris blew out a long breath as he searched for a way to explain it. Gabby was right. The words weren’t big enough. They didn’t telegraph the shock and despair of watching someone die right in front of him. “I needed to leave after what happened here. Go away and think things through.”

“So, you headed off to London and stole a bunch of stuff.” But Damon didn’t sound angry. The comment didn’t carry the heat of an accusation.

“I liberated some items, yes.” When Damon started to talk, Harris held up a hand. “For my legitimate job. There’s paperwork and everything. Hell, I even worked with Interpol, who is convinced art theft is being used to fund the international drug trade.”

“Not your thefts, of course.”

Harris ignored the sarcasm. “Drug stuff is an actual crime. I’m not interested in that.”

Damon smiled then. “Never change, Harris.”

“I don’t plan to.”

They started walking again. A lawn mower whirred to life in the distance. Harris couldn’t see it but he heard the steady hum of the motor. Looking around, he searched for Gabby. He still didn’t know how she’d react to seeing him after last night... and he wasn’t quite ready to tell Damon about it.

“What am I working with here?” Damon asked.

“A falsely accused woman.”

He snorted. “Maybe.”

Harris was getting a little tired of defending her. He couldn’t imagine how frustrating it must be for her to tell the same story over and over and have no one believe her. “I was here that afternoon, Damon. She wasn’t in the house.”

“She could have killed her sister then snuck out.” Damon talked with his hands. “Maybe she came back later and made it look like she was discovering the body for the first time in case anyone was watching.”

He might not be an investigator but he sure sounded like one. “What goes on in your head?”

“It’s not that strange. People do shit like that all the time. It’s actually kind of clever. Sometimes it throws the scent off.”

That sounded like something Wren would say. Since Harris didn’t want that advice from either of them, he threw in a few more facts. “Maybe but you didn’t hear her when she found Tabitha. You can’t fake that sound.”

“You, the caretaker guy Kramer, and Gabby were on the island when Tabitha was killed.” Damon counted the number out on his fingers. “That makes the circle of suspects pretty small.”

“I saw both Gabby and Kramer come runningafterI found the body. Neither of them were in the house.” Harris stopped and grabbed Damon’s arm. “No, look. Don’t shake your head at me. There has to be another explanation. Someone who was paid and got out before I saw them. Someone who took a boat or swam, like I did. We need to think outside the circle you named.”

“It’s amazing how often the answer is the most simple one.”

Oh, good. Cryptic bullshit. “Meaning?”

“You’re suggesting that someone wanted to kill a recluse living on an island, one without an enemy in the world, as far as I can tell. Wanted this murder to happen so badly that he or she came up with this convoluted boat or swimming plan. All while ignoring the fact there were other people on the island at the time.”

It sounded ridiculous when he spelled it out like that. “It could happen.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “There is one thing you’re missing. One more person.”

“Who?”

“Wren did some checking. When Gabby’s parents died the majority of their estate passed to people who worked for them and to charities. Gabby got enough to pay off her college loans. That’s it. Tabitha received the remaining bulk in a substantial trust, including this island.”

Damon was winding up to something. Harris could feel it. “And with her gone?”

“Gabby and Uncle Stephen share the trust proceeds, with the uncle receiving twice the amount that Gabby does.”

A piece of Tabitha’s estate likely was more money than most people could comprehend. Harris knew the island property alone was worth more than twelve million. Harris could guess at the number for everything, every last asset and bank account, but didn’t want to.

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