Page 86 of Trick of Light
“Look again. You’re curious about that treasure too. That’s why you were hanging around that witch.” He jerked his head at Tamara.
“Wait,” Gabby exclaimed. “That’s why you set up those cameras? You thought Tamara knew where it was?”
“I knew she’d never tell. Thought maybe she’d show me, the old bag. She never did, but I found out other things. Like where she kept the castor beans.”
Tamara’s eyes widened in worry. “My castor beans? You used my beans to poison people?”
“I was just doing the same thing the Carmichaels did. Poetic justice, that’s what they call it. My mother told me how Annabeth Carmichael stole castor beans from you and gave them to your daughter. She didn’t want your people polluting the Carmichael bloodline, she thought it would ruin the family’s reputation. She wanted to frame you for the murder of your own daughter.”
Tamara cried out and bent over, gripping her stomach, as if feeling the same pain Sophie had.
Relentless, Hooper went on. ”But you got your revenge on the Carmichaels, didn’t you? Helping Fiona in secret, behind my back. Killing my baby.”
“No! No revenge. Fiona wasn’t ready.” Far from being intimidated, Tamara lifted her head and held her ground. “She begged me to help her. I listened and I followed where my intuition and the signs led me. She was not yours to control. It was her decision.”
Enraged, Hooper hauled Tamara to her feet. He was such a beefy man, it took him barely any effort at all, as if she were a kitten he was picking up by the scruff of her neck.
With his free hand, he pulled out his gun and held it to her temple. “I might have a child right now if it wasn’t for this witch,” he growled to Gabby. “I don’t care one way or another if I have to kill her. And I will, if you don’t figure something out quick.”
Gabby’s heart froze, then started pounding again in double time. “Just let Tamara go. The two of us will work on it, I promise. We’ll figure it out. But I need her help. Let her come over here and help me.”
As if she were prey, Hooper tossed Tamara in Gabby’s direction. She barely managed to catch the older woman’s frail form. With her arms tight around Tamara, Gabby lowered them both to the floor and spread open the binder.
“I read this whole thing already,” she told Hooper. “All it says is that her dearest possession is on the island somewhere, and whoever has it must wield that power wisely. Does that really sound like buried treasure to you?”
“Yes,” Hooper said stonily. “And I want it. I deserve it. This island has fucked me over in every way. It took the only girl I ever loved. It took my baby. It took my family. My home, my future. This fucking island owes me.”
“Why did you have to kill Amelia? What did she do?”
“Another evil old crone past her time. She took our house, made us live in a shed. Besides, she was terminal, so who cares? I needed a reason to arrest the witch and make her scramble to get the money she’s been hoarding.”
“Are you talking about the treasure? You thought Tamara had it?”
“I thought I could scare her into giving it up. Make her look for it. I didn’t know Barnaby Carmichael would give a shit about her.”
“I promise you I don’t know where it is,” Tamara said wearily. Gabby wondered how many times she’d already told Hooper that.
“That’s why you better figure it out fast. I always thought it was in this lighthouse somewhere, but if I’m wrong, I’m wrong and we need to get gone.”
Hooper hovered, his gun still trained on them. Gabby willed herself not to get distracted by it. Her brother had made sure she knew how to use a gun, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
“Come on, Tamara, let’s put our heads together. Do you remember your mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, anyone like that ever saying something about treasure?”
Still shaken from being thrown across the room, Tamara whispered ‘no.’
“Okay then, let’s look through this journal one page at a time and see if anything rings a bell. Take your time.” The longer it took, the better the chances that someone would come after them.
Hooper lifted the gun and very deliberately pointed it at Gabby. “No delays. You have until we hear a boat engine. No longer. Then she dies.”
Fighting back the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, she focused her gaze on the photocopied pages. After they’d scanned a few and found nothing about any treasure, she murmured, “Let’s go straight to the section about the most precious possession and start there.”
Tamara gave a nervous nod. Gabby flipped through the pages until she found it.
My love has not returned to me. Now I know he never will. I am alone in this foreign land where the ocean hisses secrets to me and the trees are dark against the sky. I will never see my homeland again, I know this now. How shall I reach it save in my dreams? I will never see my love again. I have been abandoned by the men. All that is left to me is my sweet girl, who knows nothing of where we truly belong. She climbs the rocks barefoot and dives into the ocean like a fish. This world will belong to her when I am gone. It is all I can give her, along with my most precious possession. Let us hope she can wield it wisely for it brings much power. From Joshua, she inherited cleverness, his laugh, his bright eyes, so many precious gifts. I pray they will be enough for her, that they will bring her what she needs and repel what she does not. The fog is our savior. Some days it’s thick as smoke, especially in the winter when it rises from the ocean. I hear faraway bells that warn sailors of rocks and reefs. Sometimes, when I gaze at the ocean from my favorite spot, pining for Joshua, for a moment I think I am in Martinique where the water is clear like glass, reflecting everything clearly, and the mountains rise to the sky. But then I know it was a trick of light and I am forever stranded in this faraway land.
Gabby was caught up in the spell of Marianne’s mournful prose. She could practically see the little girl playing on the rocks and hear the distant fog bells. But Tamara must have noticed something else.
She crouched down closer to the binder and tilted it so the light fell across one particular section. “Do you see that?” she whispered.
