Page 71 of The Pretender

The topic wasn’t one he wanted to discuss or even admit to. Instead of examining it, he settled for brushing his arm against hers as they crested the hill.

Damon stood on the porch. He looked as if he were waiting for them. He didn’t hold his usual coffee mug or any paperwork. He leaned against the porch post surveying first the land, then them.

He waited until they joined him to step back into the house. “Did you have a nice visit with your uncle?”

“Did he threaten to fire me?”

“Both of us. He’s charming like that.” Damon nodded in the direction of the building down the hill. “He’s at the boathouse with Kramer, by the way.”

They all kept walking. Harris and Gabby followed Damon into the study off the entry. Papers littered the desk. Stacks of files covered the top of the printer. He had dragged in a small table from the kitchen and two hardback chairs.

The space had been turned into a war room. Harris knew Damon spread everything out in here because there was a lock on the door. With Stephen staying upstairs for whatever amount of time he remained on the island, they needed to be careful of exposure.

Gabby continued to the far side of the table across the men. She pushed a few files around to read the labels on them. “Harris tried to kill him.”

“Interesting tactic.” The lightness in Damon’s tone suggested he was impressed and more than a little supportive of the approach.

Harris shrugged as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I only threatened to choke him until he passed out. Different thing.”

“And a totally reasonable response.”

The amusement was evident in Damon’s voice, but Harris didn’t find anything funny about the toxic family scene he’d walked into. “You didn’t see him come after Gabby. You probably would have shot him.”

Gabby’s head popped up. “You have a gun here?”

“What the fuck? Go back.” Damon put his hands on the back of the leather desk chair he’d rolled over and leaned in closer to Gabby. “What did he do to you?”

That was more like it. Harris counted on Damon having that reaction and he didn’t disappoint.

“It’s fine. Everyone, calm down.” She waved off the concern and went back to studying the documents in front of her. “My uncle has said much worse things to me.”

“That’s pretty appalling.” Harris wanted to use other words to describe what he viewed as a fucking tragedy but he had vowed to stay calm. Getting all pissed off wouldn’t do her any good. But now she was staring at him and he didn’t know why. “What?”

She smiled at him. “Nothing. You actually sounded like an art appraiser there for a second.”

He’d never met anyone—man or woman—who took his casual acquaintance with the truth on certain subjects so well. It was as if she trusted him with her body and her secrets but nothing else. He was completely sure how he felt about that.

But, at least for now, he planned on maintaining the cover story. “Again, it’s a real job.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. I don’t disagree, in general.” She pointed at him. “I just don’t thinkyoudo that job.”

Damon pulled out a chair and sat down. “You two are cute.”

Harris decided to derail this topic, and fast. He turned to his friend. “Did you find anything?”

“Good pivot.” Damon gestured to the paper explosion on the table. “And, yes. A mound of data.”

Gabby flipped through a stack of documents in front of her. “What exactly is all this?”

“Internet records. Phone records.” Damon held up two empty coffee mugs. “I made coffee.”

Harris looked at the tray next to Damon. It looked like he put together a few mugs, the coffeepot, a tub of sugar and a banana. An interesting and not all that helpful mix. “We’re going to need a bigger pot.”

Gabby picked up a back statement. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”

“That’s how this works.” Damon shot a notepad and pen flying in her direction on the only clear space on the table. “You dig and read and try to make connections. Some will be obvious. Some will be based on a feeling.”

“That’s what your sister did on those crime forums.” So much of finding clues depended on sorting through minutiae.

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