Page 88 of Light of Day
Would Luke be looking for her? Of course he would. Even if they hadn’t slept together, he would look. But they had, and no matter how much she tried to pretend it didn’t matter, that was a lie.
No more lies. This island was too full of them already.
Telephone.The word echoed around her the way it did in her dream. What could a person do with the misdeeds of a long-dead family member? Did crimes die with the perpetrator? What about the ripple effect?
She wasn’t responsible for Hennessy’s actions. But the weight of his guilt had burdened her family over the generations, all the way down to her. All she could do was turn and face it. Tell the truth and go from there.
The New Yorker.
A new dream filled her head. Her byline on the cover story ofThe New Yorker. Secrets From the Deep Off the Coast of Maine.What a story this would make, if they could successfully gather all the elements together. She still needed to find out what was on that other flash drive. And there were pieces she didn’t understand yet. Why hadn’t the islanders fought back against the campaign to evict them? Wasn’t anyone standing up for them? Why hadn’t they hired a lawyer?
So much more research had to be done, but this was the kind of story that could break her into the serious journalism world.
It’s not your story, bitch.
With a sobbing laugh, or maybe a laughing sob, that reminder struck her like a splash of cold Maine water. Gabby had done all the initial investigating. How could she even think about giving the story toThe New Yorker? Gabby had told her to pick up the baton, not take the whole thing.
This island had seen enough stealing. She, Heather McPhee, wasn’t going to repeat any of those mistakes. Nope. The opposite, actually. She had the perfect opportunity to bring a different kind of reputation to the Messy McPhee name. She’d be a Make-it-right McPhee. Not because she had to…but because she could.
Her mind drifted to something else that kept puzzling her.
Why had Denton reached out to Gabby instead of her? She’d known Denton forever. He knew she was in the journalism-ish field. Why choose a complete stranger who he’d chatted with on the dock once? What was it about Gabby that had drawn his attention?
With breathtaking speed, piece after piece fell into place. Sasha Mackey, the woman who’d inherited a house out of nowhere. But it wasn’t out of nowhere, was it? Denton had a reason for choosing her. Denton’s fight with his brother…Jimmy’s comment about some things needing to stay buried…Denton’s recent donations to the NAACP chapter…the way he’d reached out to Gabby and not her…”there’s crossbreeding, even incest”…In her lifetime, there had never been a Black fisherman on Sea Smoke Island… but had that always been true? Hadn’t Gabby said to question spaces that were all-white?
What if it hadn’t always been so? What if that was why those long-ago residents hadn’t been able to fight back? They’d been Black folks in the year nineteen-eleven, with newspapers spreading horrid propaganda about them. What kind of options had they had?
Determination surged through her. She wasn’t going to die out here at the edge of the forest. She was going to get back to civilization and find out if she was right.
As Luke hurtled downthe staircase to the second floor landing, he heard someone banging on a door and yelling, “Help! Let me out!”
Fuck, one more delay. He raced down the corridor to where the shouts were coming from—a linen closet, if memory served. The door was locked from the outside. “Hello?” He called. “Who’s in there?”
“It’s Judy! Is that you, Luke?” He’d never heard the polished and collected Judy sound so rattled. She sounded as if she’d been drinking.
“What’s going on here?”
“You have to get me out of here. I think they gave me something. I’ve been sleeping so long, I don’t even know what time it is or what day it is. It’s dark in here, and I…I…I’m scared.”
“Back away from the door, Judy. I’m going to break it down.”
“No! Don’t hurt the door, it dates from the nineteen-fifties when?—”
He kicked at it hard, picking a spot in the middle away from the reinforcements of the frame. Inside, Judy shrieked. Honestly, her dedication to the Lightkeeper Inn was something else. But he ignored her and kicked again and again until it finally splintered under his boot. He crawled inside the closet and found her cowering in a corner, covering her ears and eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“You broke the hotel!” she wailed. “Your father will be so upset.”
“I think he has other things on his mind right now.” From his position on the floor, a few things caught his eye. A half-used vial of clear liquid, for one. A long scarf, for another.
“Is this your scarf?”
“What?” She uncovered her eyes and stared down at the length of silvery fabric. “Yes. But I don’t know what it’s doing here.”
“They’re trying to set you up. What’s that in your pocket?”
She withdrew a piece of hotel stationary from the pocket of her blazer. “I had to do it,” she read out loud. “How dare he threaten to extort us? But now I can’t live with myself. I’m sorry, Denton. I’m sorry to everyone I’ve let down.” Appalled, she glanced up at Luke. “I don’t remember writing this. It makes it sound like I killed Denton. I would never do that. I’ve known Denton since I was a little girl.”
