Page 49 of Light of Day
“What was the story?”
“Think conspiracy. Think legacy. Your ancestors,” she swung toward Heather, pointing at her, “andyourancestors. This goes way back, and it goes deep, and I need my proof before I say anything more. He made me promise. I can’t betray a dead man’s promise.”
“What proof? The flash drives?”
“No, there’s more. I think I know how to find it, but I have to go. I promise I don’t know anything more about Denton’s death. I was supposed to meet him, but then Andy dragged me off to that sailboat, and I never saw him again.” A visible shudder ran through her body. “I need to get off this rock. Can I go?”
Luke shoved his hands in his pockets with a frown. “I can’t keep you. You aren’t a suspect. There isn’t even a crime yet, other than your kidnapping.”
“Not pressing charges,” Gabby said quickly. “Not if it gets me out of here quicker.”
“I will need a statement.”
Gabby threw up her hands. “Fine, here’s my statement. Andy had good intentions, but I will never get in a rowboat with him again. He didn’t hurt me. How’s that?”
“Incomplete.”
Gabby looked desperately toward Heather.
“She might have a point about getting off the island,” Heather murmured. “If she hurries she can catch the morning boat.”
It took a moment, but finally Luke relented. “I’ll give you a ride to the dock, Gabby.”
“No. I got it. Thanks anyway. And watch your backs, both of you!” With a quick wave, she whisked herself out the back door into the gray light of early morning.
Heather dashed to the front door, grabbed the shoes she’d left there, and ran after Gabby. “At least take my shoes,” she called from the back step.
Gabby paused so Heather could toss her the sneakers she’d been wearing. Red Converse all-stars, her favorites. They’d be a little loose on Gabby, whose feet were smaller, but they’d be better than running around the island barefoot.
Gabby scooped the sneakers off the ground. “Thanks. And thanks for coming after me.”
Heather felt tears spring to her eyes. She and Gabby had been friends for so long—almost ten years. They’d been through a lot together. Five breakups between the two of them, deaths in the family, job changes, heartbreak…She hated seeing her so fearful. “Gabby, I promise you can trust Luke. Please stay.”
A quick kaleidoscope of expressions flashed across Gabby’s face. Wistfulness, wariness, then determination. “Just find those flash drives. And be careful, Heather. Maybe you trust Luke, but I don’t know him. Are you so sure you do?”
Heather didn’t answer, because Gabby had a point. Although she’d known Luke her whole life, she’d only spent any real time with him over the past couple of days.
“Here’s what I’ve learned about this place,” Gabby continued. “It’s beautiful, but there’s some dark and dirty history here and no one wants to talk about it, and for all I know, that includes your Carmichael hottie in there.” She bent to slip on the red Converses. “He’s going to have to make a choice, and you might too. Once you learn certain things, you can’t go back. I’ve taken this as far as I can, Heather. It’s on you, now.”
This was all so cryptic and confusing. “What’s on me?”
“You want the truth, right?” Gabby straightened up again. “Or maybe you don’t. That’s up to you. If you want it, find my flash drives and keep them safe. And promise you’ll be careful.” She jogged a few steps, testing the fit of Heather’s shoes. Was she limping?
“Wait! Do you need any medical attention before you go?”
Gabby laughed, an abrupt hoot with an edge of something like hysteria. “Kind of ironic that you asked me that. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll be in touch.” A glimmer of a smile crossed her lips. In that moment, she looked almost like the familiar Gabby, instead of this disheveled woman with the wild hair. “Soon as I get a new phone and hook up to the cloud again.”
And she disappeared behind the low, sweeping branches of a Douglas fir.
Heather stood for a long moment gazing after her friend, replaying everything she’d said. She ran back inside the house. “I need a pen and paper,” she called.
Luke, who’d been watching out the window, guided her to a child’s table set up in one corner of the living room. He plucked a pencil from a purple clay jar that held mostly crayons, and opened a drawing pad, flipping through pages of child’s drawings until he found a blank one. “Izzy can spare a page. Go.”
Grateful that he wasn’t pestering her for an explanation, Heather wrote down every word that Gabby had said while it was still fresh in her mind. She usually recorded interviews on her phone but this would have to do instead. She didn’t even know where her phone was at the moment. In Luke’s bedroom?
Maybe you trust Luke, but I don’t know him.
Did Gabby distrust him because he was the constable? That didn’t make sense. Gabby’s brother was a police officer in Atlanta. She talked a lot about how Black people wanted protection from crime just as much as everyone else—they just wanted to be treated fairly.
