Page 50 of Light of Day
More likely, her distrust was thanks to Luke being a Carmichael.Think conspiracy. Your ancestors andyourancestors.
She scribbled phrases Gabby had said as they came back to her, not in any particular order.
This goes way back, and it goes deep, and I need my proof before I say anything more.
There’s some dark and dirty history here and no one wants to talk about it.
Once you learn certain things, you can’t go back.
Luke was watching over her shoulder. “She said she needed to find someone. Any idea who?”
“No. She was being so cryptic! Like she didn’t trust me.”
That was the part that really hurt.
“If she didn’t trust you, she wouldn’t have asked you to find her flash drives.” Luke’s deep voice, saying those very logical words, reassured her. “It’s me she doesn’t trust.”
She stared at the drawing pad, which was now filled with the words Gabby had spoken. “Is she safe out there? Should we have stopped her from leaving?”
“How? Arrest her? She hasn’t committed a crime.”
“Trespassing. She was in your shed.”
“Heather. I’m not arresting your friend for trespassing.”
She buried her head in her hands as her words sank in. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I even said that. Clearly I’m freaking out. Ignore me.”
“I get it. Hey, I got some coffee going. Let’s take a minute and clear our heads.” He helped her up, then put his hands on her shoulders and steered her gently toward the kitchen. A wooden table sat in the corner, a wind chime made of sea glass dangling overhead. Izzy’s work, she guessed as she sat down on the chair he pulled out for her.
“The good news is, the Harbortown police can focus on the Simms case now,” he said as he checked the coffeemaker. “Gabby is not a missing person anymore.”
“True.” That fact flooded her with relief again. “She’s alive, and no longer shoeless. Although I am, now.”
He poured her a mug of coffee. She let the steam drift into her nostrils, and tried to count the hours of sleep she’d had. Maybe four? Probably more than Gabby. Maybe Gabby was being so wary because she was sleep-deprived as well as traumatized by being held captive on a sailboat.
“How did Gabby seem to you?” she asked Luke. “Is that how kidnapping victims usually act?”
Luke sank into a chair and propped one ankle over the opposite knee. “I’ve never met a kidnapping victim before, although I did detain a teenage boy who claimed his friends had kidnapped him and forced him to raid the liquor cabinet while his parents were out of the country.”
Although she laughed, she was having a hard time summoning much amusement about anything. “Here’s the thing. Gabby is one of the smartest people I know. She’s ambitious, she works hard, she’s used to challenges. She doesn’t put up with bullshit, which is why she wanted to start this podcast. I’ve never seen her act so…off. She said this weird thing about it being ironic that I asked if she needed medical attention.”
“Being kidnapped and stuck belowdecks in a yacht might have messed her up. Then she must have swum to shore. If it was a long enough swim, she could have gotten mild hypothermia. Did she have anything to eat? What about water? Did she get any sleep while she was hiding out in the woods? Those are extreme circumstances. All of them put together might have her in a state of shock.”
“Maybe.” Heather took a sip of her coffee. The rich smoky taste brought to mind the coffee shop she and Gabby had claimed as their favorite in college, the Blissful Bean. They used to set up their laptops near the refill station and take turns topping off their coffee mugs.
Her gaze drifted to the page on Izzy’s drawing pad covered with her handwriting. Gabby’s wild-sounding words written out on paper. As she read them over, they didn’t sound so crazy anymore. Maybe it was the way she’d talked, the suspicion in her voice, her bedraggled appearance.
But as she read, Gabby’s familiar voice came through loud and clear.
And she felt ashamed for doubting her.
“There’s nothing wrong with Gabby,” she said slowly. “Other than exhaustion and a little justified paranoia caused by whatever she’s been working on.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know her. She’s shaken up, but she’s thinking clearly. I just have to trust her.” Something occurred to her as she stared at everything she’d written down. “That comment about medical attention. Maybe the irony is that Hennessy McPhee was a doctor. She did say our ancestors were involved, she said that to both of us.”
Luke angled the drawing pad so he could see what she’d written. “What sort of conspiracy could the McPhees and the Carmichaels both be involved in?”
