Page 26 of The Pretender

She was not in the mood for one more man on this small island. “You’re my uncle’s lackey.”

His smile looked genuine and amused now. He pointed behind him, back toward the tree. “Maybe I should go out and try to come in again because something about this welcome went wrong.”

She felt Harris’s hand brush against her back. A fleeting touch, but she got the message.Calm down.

“Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction.” She tried to wave away the attitude before holding out her hand. “I’m Gabby Wright.”

“Damon Knox.” He nodded as he took her hand in both of his in a warm shake. “Before you ask the question, I think it sounds like a made-up soap opera name, too.”

Okay, there was a charm to him. She made sure to note that and keep it in mind because she couldn’t afford to get sucked into the investigator’s informal back-and-forth style. “Understood. The only reason my sister never shortened her name is because we would have been known as Gabby and Tabby, which was just too much.”

“Your uncle hired me,” Damon said, in a voice that sounded more serious now. “I insisted on being paid through the estate, on an order from the court, to remain as neutral as possible.”

“But you think I did it.” She figured they may as well get that out in the open. Harris insisted he believed her. This guy would never say that.

“I think you’re the leading suspect, but that’s because I can read. The police think you’re the leading suspect.” Damon shrugged. “It’s all over the file.”

“You could sugarcoat it,” Harris mumbled under his breath.

Damon looked from Harris then back to her. “Do you want me to, Ms. Wright?”

“Call me Gabby. The Ms. Wright thing has been an ongoing problem for years. I’ve heard every joke.”

Damon frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“Ms. Wright, as inright.” Harris made the connection then held out his hands. He didn’t sayduhbut it was right there.

Damon shook his head this time. “You repeating the same word doesn’t help.”

Needing to move on, Gabby took over. “Did you want to question me today?”

“I wanted to know if your sister kept a diary.”

The question hung in the air for a second. It wasn’t the one she expected from him. She remembered the police asking and officers looking for one, but it struck her as an odd place for Damon to start the questioning. “What?”

“It’s kind of an easy question.”

“Sorry. I was expecting...” It didn’t really help her case to start listing off the accusations against her, so she dropped it. “Never mind.”

Damon took off his glasses and played with the arm as if he was trying to bend it into another position. He peeked over at Harris. “Did you need something?”

“I’m keeping her company.”

Damon’s smile came back. “Lucky her.”

She didn’t know what was happening, but she sensed she might need to duck if the testosterone kept flying. As interesting as a debate between those two might be, she wasn’t in the mood to play den mother. “Tabitha wasn’t really a diary person. Not a paper one anyway. Not that I remember. She did a lot on her laptop and she loved to read.”

“Right, but there wasn’t a laptop in the house when the police got here,” Damon said, as if he had the entire police file, all however many boxes of it memorized.

Harris shifted. “What?”

Damon didn’t even spare Harris a glance as he answered. “It’s missing.”

That piece never made sense to her. Tabitha didn’t keep financial information on the thing. She had professionals who handled her trust. So why would the killer take the computer? “I know, and it’s not possible. She lived on that thing.”

“You said something about true crime to me the other day?” Harris asked.

There it was. An example of how he remembered a throwaway fact. It impressed her even though she was determined not to be impressed.

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