Page 87 of Light of Day
That sounded bad, and also…maybe a little sketchy. Luke walked toward him and extended his hand. “I’m Luke Carmichael, the island constable, and you are…?”
“Dr. Alan Greer. I’m a neurologist.” They shook hands, assessing each other. Luke wondered if it would be rude to Google the man right in front of him.
“Celine said you’re here for a diagnostic visit.”
“Correct.” He looked again at Celine. “Is there a place I can sit and write up my notes?”
“Of course, Dr. Greer.” She escorted him to an elegant writing desk that had belonged to the first Mrs. John Carmichael and sat him down. “Do you need anything while you work?”
“Coffee, black. Thank you.”
She turned to pick up the wall-mounted telephone that connected the family quarters to the kitchen, and that was when it clicked. Telephone. Quiz. Hennessy.
She was pulling a Hennessy.
This doctor—he assumed Dr. Greer was a real doctor, just like Hennessy McPhee—intended to declare John Carmichael III to be mentally incompetent, leaving Celine in charge of the Carmichael empire.
Worse yet, Celine couldn’t possibly be working alone. Any attempt to take the reins would be met with fierce opposition from the rest of the family…unless they were also in on it.
But why?
He spun around and strode toward his father’s bedroom. He heard Celine cry out to stop him, but he ignored her. He flung open the door and found his father nearly asleep in his bed, eyes open only a slit. The carved mahogany headboard gleamed with a recent waxing, and the room smelled of lemon.
A low growl came from his father’s throat. Luke stepped back, assuming he was upset to see his renegade son. Instead, he jerked his head for Luke to come closer.
A few steps, and Luke was at his bedside. When he was right next to him, John pushed away his covers. Tucked under his arm was a shoebox filled with old audiotapes. “They keep trying to take these. I know they’re important, but I don’t always remember why.”
Stomach clenching, Luke gently took the shoebox from him. So John Carmichael really did have some form of dementia. He’d have to process that later. “I’ll take good care of these,” he told his father, whose eyelids drifted shut again.
He turned to find Celine blocking his path again. “I’m confiscating these tapes as evidence in a murder case.”
“Luke, you don’t understand. Your father has lost his mind. He really has.” Her voice lifted to a panicky pitch. “He wants to issue apublic apology. Does that sound like him?”
Not really, he had to admit. “Out of my way, Celine. If you try to stop me, I’ll arrest you for interfering with a police investigation.”
“Police? Please,” she scoffed. “You’re a toy soldier. No one takes you seriously.”
The urge to drag her off to lockup was nearly irresistible. But all of this was a distraction from finding Heather.
Brushing past her, he charged back into the common area.
“One more thing. Dr. Greer!” He raised his voice to address the doctor as he hurried toward the door to the landing. “Better put what you’re doing on pause unless you want to explain it to me and the Harbortown detective downstairs. I plan to get a second opinion no matter what your report says.”
“Don’t act like you care about John!” Celine wailed after him. “You turned your back on your family!”
“Try your guilt trip on someone else,” Luke said as he pushed open the door. “My conscience is clear, and that’s worth a lot more than all this.” With the shoebox tucked under one arm, he waved the other one at their luxurious surroundings. “If you want to do the right thing, you should tell me who killed Denton Simms, and where Heather is.”
“Denton? I don’t know who that is.” Her wide eyes fluttered in a damsel-in-distress manner that he found unbearably irritating.
But as he hurtled down the staircase, he realized he believed her about not knowing who Denton was. Someone else was masterminding this whole thing.
41
Heather’s thoughtsdrifted like fish lost in a foreign reef. The boat she’d heard had passed on by without pausing. She curled under a tree and tried to get comfortable in a nest of pine needles.
The girl in the pinafore kept reappearing, then flickering away in a wisp of fog. Or was it sea smoke? What time of year was it back then when those people were forced off the island?
Heather loved the sea smoke. It didn’t happen very often, just when the air was very very cold, arctic-level cold. But when it did, it felt magical, like transformation happening before your very eyes.
