Page 27 of The Pretender

She looked at Damon. “That was Tabitha’s thing. She was part of this group that informally investigated unsolved true crime cases. They searched for clues and came up with theories.” As far as habits went, Gabby thought it was weird, but it fit Tabitha. She liked puzzles, and she really liked the idea of bringing a family peace. “She was really good at it. Read every forensic book there is.” That memory stopped Gabby, made it hard for her to catch her breath. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“How so?” Damon asked.

“That someone with that much interest in cases and solving them would become a crime statistic.” As soon as the words were out she regretted them. She didn’t think of her sister in those terms and she could already see Damon filing the information away for his report.

He kept right on asking questions in a clear, calm tone. “Did she meet in person with this group?”

“Not that I know of. It was online. A pretty big forum, actually, but she also broke off into smaller groups for specific cold cases. Tabitha didn’t have that many friends and didn’t just invite people over. But she did collect articles. She printed stuff out all the time. All of it should be in the library.” She sighed. “Of course, so should the laptop.”

“Can you show me where?” Damon stepped back and gestured toward the main house.

“No.”

He froze. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not ready to go back in the house yet. Give me a day.” God, it had been fourteen months. She had no idea what one more day would do, but she needed to prepare, to wipe her brain clear of the last memory she had of the inside. Tuck the horror away and drown it in darkness.

“Ah, I see.” Damon’s gaze hesitated on her for a few extra beats before he glanced at Harris. “Mr. Tate... or may I call you Harrison?”

“Harris is fine.”

“Why don’t you come with me and get started?”

Harris shook his head. “I was going to—”

“It’s okay.” She rushed to stop whatever Harris planned to say next. That space she said she needed was not a lie. “You go with the investigator. I wanted to say hello to Kramer.”

Harris stared at her then nodded. “Then we’ll meet up later.”

Harris followed Damon out of the garden and over to the main house. Harris got as far as the foyer of the big house before he stopped. The hardwood shined and there wasn’t one bit of clutter anywhere. The rooms that were visible looked comfortable rather than fancy, but in that paid-a-fortune-for-the-lived-in-look kind of way.

A breeze blew through the two-story opening from a sitting room on one side to a small study on the other. He looked in both directions and saw the windows at the sides of the house were open. White sheers rustled in the wind.

A curving staircase with a railing carved out of mahogany wound to the next floor in front of him. A hall on either side of the grand floating staircase led to the kitchen and dining room. To a downstairs bedroom... and to the library. Eventually out to an atrium and an in-house theater.

There was a lot of space to cover but his feet refused to move. All he could do was stand just inside the door. One shift in any direction and the memories came rushing back—the deadly quiet. The smell he couldn’t place. The blood.

“You okay?” Damon asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

Harris focused and he saw Damon staring at him, the concern clear in his expression. “Not really.”

Footsteps echoed on the floor as Damon walked to the base of the staircase and glanced up. When he lowered his head again his expression had changed. He seemed ready to battle. “I need her to move around freely.”

It took Harris a second to realize he’d missed part of the conversation or a turn in the topic. “What?”

“You can’t follow her around like a lost puppy.” Damon exhaled as he crossed his arms in front of him. “I want her to use that shovel her uncle saw her holding, or another one she can find.”

Rather than fill in the blanks, Harris ignored the comment. “How are you going to see that when you’re standing in here?”

Damon shook his head. He probably winked, too, because he did that a lot, but he wore the sunglasses again, so it wasn’t clear what was happening behind his eyes. “It’s cute you think Wren didn’t set up camera surveillance on the island.”

Harris started to question,but of course he knew. Wren didn’t miss much. “When the hell did he do that?”

“The minute after he saved your ass fourteen months ago. He wanted to see what the police were doing and finding. He mentioned something about needing to ‘guide’ the investigation.” Damon took off the sunglasses and twirled them in his fingers. “Personally, I think he doubted your claims about not leaving fingerprints and wanted to be ready to ‘lose’ the evidence if needed.”

The police had been everywhere that afternoon. The press had descended almost immediately. Most of Wren’s energy at that time seemed to be spent on the subterfuge needed to extract Harris. The cleanup, the boat, the people who hid him. But Wren must have been working the crime scene angle as well. That meant he either had people planted in the police department or somewhere in the law enforcement chain.

Harris didn’t want to know.

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