Page 16 of Light of Day
“Unless Gabby likes extremely vintage clothing, I think this is a piece of history right here.”
8
After he droppedHeather back at her house, Luke called Carrie. He’d planned to take Izzy out for ice cream tonight, but with a woman missing, he needed to reschedule.
“She’ll be disappointed,” Carrie warned. He heard raucous voices in the background, and remembered it was Frank’s whisky-and-poker night. Frank was Carrie’s boyfriend, an import from Bailey Island, and not someone Luke cared for much. But he seemed to make Carrie happy, so he kept his opinions to himself.
“I know. Can you put her on?”
He explained the situation to Izzy, who accepted it with a maturity that made him proud, especially considering she’d just turned six. “I hope you find her, Daddy. Do you think she’s dead?”
“I sure hope not. I’m counting on finding her alive and well and wondering what all the fuss was about.”
“She should have told someone where she was going,” Izzy said wisely. “Like I always do.”
“Yup. She could learn a thing or two from you.”
Sea Smoke Island was the kind of place where kids tended to roam free, on bikes or in packs, only returning home when it got dark. But Izzy was still too young for that. He predicted a lot more anxious nights in his future. “We’ll go to Sea Scoops as soon as we can, okay?”
“But what if you didn’t find her yet?”
“Then I’ll probably need a break from all my hard work. We’re getting that ice cream soon, sweetheart. Come what may.”
It was too late to visit the historical society and follow up on Gabby’s appearance at their meeting. But that would be his first stop in the morning, with the added bonus of showing Amy Lou the button he’d found. He felt sure it was a genuine historical artifact, maybe lost by one of last century’s wealthy guests of the Lightkeeper Inn. Although why would it have washed up on Shell Beach? That was the farthest opposite end of the island.
As he drove toward the south beach road, where Denton Simms lived, he thought about what Izzy had said. From what he’d learned about Gabby so far, she was very intelligent and aware of potential risks. Would she have climbed on the rocks alone, without notifying anyone of where she was going?
Unlikely.
During his constable training, he’d only taken one course in investigative techniques. The rest of his knowledge came from TV. In other words, it was probably useless. Should he call in the real professionals?
He weighed the pros and cons. Even if he reached out to the Harbortown PD, it would take them time to send someone out. They had enough work on their hands dealing with a recent carjacking spree. And they didn’t know the island the way he did.
His phone buzzed, and he put it on speaker so he could talk while driving. “Luke Carmichael.”
“We have a situation.” It was Alan Bard, who ran the Clambake Grill, the best place for lobster rolls on the island. “Some teenagers came out from the mainland for their graduation party, and now they’re throwing water balloons at my customers. I’ve done my best, but I need someone with authority out there.”
“Be right there.”
He swung the wheel and headed in the direction of the west dock. The sun was setting, shadows collecting in the woods alongside the road, the sky shifting deeper into indigo blue. As he drove, he rummaged in his glove compartment for his badge. He also told Siri to call Marigold. Backup might be helpful in this situation.
“Right this minute?” she asked breathlessly. “Kind of in the middle of something.”
“I’m on my way there now. Want me to pick you up?”
“No, I’m already down that way. I’ll probably beat you there. See you in a jiff.”
Her resigned tone made sense as soon as he caught sight of her. Marigold was hard to miss in most circumstances, seeing as she was nearly six feet tall and as statuesque as her Norwegian ancestors. If any flower name suited her, it would probably be Sunflower, but that wasn’t the direction her parents had chosen.
In this moment, Marigold was even easier to spot because a wedding veil fluttered from the crown of her head, whipping in the wind as she plucked a Super Soaker from a boy’s hand. The Clambake Grill’s open deck, cantilevered over the seaweed-draped rocks below, was crowded with girls in prom-style dresses and boys in suits—along with some drenched and angry customers.
A melee in the making.
As his truck approached, Luke activated the siren he kept on standby. It was impressive how that sound could focus people’s attention. The crowd shifted from rowdy to alert as he brought the truck to a stop in a rooster tail of gravel.
Holding up his badge, he strode up the wooden steps. “What the hell is going on here,” he roared.
He’d worked hard on that Voice of Authority. In fact, he’d studied his father in order to get the exact right “ruler of the world” tone.
