Page 15 of Light of Day
“I believe it belongs to the Island Trust.”
“What’s that?” She’d never heard of it.
“It’s a conservation group that buys up land to keep it from getting developed. They fund the historical society too.”
“So these woods won’t ever be touched? What about the beach?”
“None of it. It’s all off limits. I believe there were environmental concerns that went into that purchase. It happened recently, but I don’t know all the details.”
Heather wasn’t sure why this information was setting off alarm bells. Conservation was good, right? “Who funds the trust?”
“I don’t know all the donors, but my family is one of them. My father contributes regularly. Part of the draw of Sea Smoke Island is that so much of it is still undeveloped. It’s in his interest to keep it that way.”
“So…not environmental concerns? More like, self-interest?”
He laughed ruefully. “If you’re trying to get me to defend my father, don’t bother. He is who he is. But I’m glad no one’s going to build out here. The mushrooms need their space.”
He showed her the photo. Dappled sunlight bathed the delicate orange stalks in an enchanted spell. Their heads dipped this way and that, as if they were sharing unearthly secrets with each other.
“Wow. Your eye is incredible.”
He looked pleased as he tucked away his phone. “You know, I think there might have been talk about this area having some historical significance too.”
“Historical? In what way?” As far as she knew, Shell Beach had never been inhabited. “Maybe a shipwreck? Could that old legend be true after all?”
A pirate ship had gone down on the rocks, some of the old salts claimed. There was treasure somewhere…which no one had ever found.
“Maybe. Would Gabby have been looking for pirate treasure?”
Heather twisted her face in doubt. “I didn’t get that impression. She said ‘shady shit,’ not ‘buried gold.’ My mom said Gabby went to one of the historical society meetings. Maybe it was about the beach.”
“That’s good. Worth following up on.”
“She also said we should check out Clyde and his buddies.”
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Because of that brawl? I’d agree, since I always thought he was a racist jerk. But it turns out the brawl started because Clyde was dating one of the sous-chefs and her brother got upset. They’re now engaged and he’s doing double shifts at the garage to afford the wedding.”
She nodded, relieved to hear that update, and they headed back through the quiet woods, their shade broken by shafts of sunlight, the occasional blue jay squawking a warning.
When they emerged from the shade of the woods, the tide had receded, exposing several feet more of the beach than when they’d arrived. They’d have to carry the Zodiac down to the water’s edge.
Heather took in a deep breath of the salt air. “I miss this when I’m in Boston. Sometimes I go to the harbor just to get a fix, but it doesn’t smell quite the same.”
Luke stood beside her, hands on hips, squinting into the sun, toward the dancing brilliant light on the ocean. “You know, Gabby probably came out here on a boat, and left the same way. That’s why we couldn’t find any trace of her in the woods or on the path.”
“So we should find out who brought her here. They might know something.”
They headed across the dunes of shells—all that remained of millions of tiny sea creatures. The reason why these shells hadn’t been crushed into sand was the point of land that curved protectively into the ocean, like a mother’s arm shielding her child from its full force.
But if the beach was so protected, why hadn’t anyone ever used this spot for anything? She knew the currents were strong; maybe that was why. There were other places on the island that made for better harbors. The closest house to here was the Stollers’, half a mile down the shore, which they’d built ten years ago on virgin land. That must have been before the area had been purchased by the Island Trust.
Halfway down the beach, Luke crouched down and moved his fingers gently through the shells.
“What is it?” Heather dropped next to him. “Did Gabby drop something else?”
He found the thing that had caught his eye and held it up. “I doubt this was Gabby’s.”
It was a button made of opalescent mother-of-pearl, roughly circular, with three tiny holes pierced through it. Its surface was weathered by time and rain and saltwater. Only a photographer’s eye could have spotted it among the shells and other ocean debris.
