The Pretender

by HelenKay Dimon

  It was a knee-jerk reaction. Having a mother in jail did that to a guy. Starting at age fifteen he’d seen up close and personal what that kind of ending did to a family. His father hadn’t said a decent thing about a woman since. He skulked around, ran through marriages and girlfriends and lived his life alone.

  While that overreaction didn’t make sense to Harris, he did understand the need for caution. That wasn’t about women. It was about anyone. Trusting led to emotional destruction. He kept his circle of friends small and tight. And when it came to Harris, he’d blown it.

  “I fucked up in not calling back, for taking legitimate jobs overseas and traveling in between work assignments so I was never in the same place. Running to fight off the urge to go back to my old ways.” Harris couldn’t find the right words so he went with the ones that came to him first. “You didn’t deserve that.”

  “Are you agreeing about how you’re an asshole so I forget Gabby and the wall?”

  Harris couldn’t help but smile at that. Damon was so practical, so to the point. “A little.”

  Damon nodded. “It’s a good trick.”

  “About us . . .”

  “Don’t make it sound like we’re dating.” Damon’s smirk telegraphed how much he was enjoying this part of the conversation. “I just need you to recognize that I’m the absolute smartest, best-looking and most talented friend you have. You can even say your best friend, just so I can rub it in to Matthias and Wren.”

  “I like how self-deprecating you are.”

  Damon’s mood sobered. “I know the last fourteen months sucked. You got your ass handed to you here and went into a tailspin.” He stopped for a second then continued. “Next time, reach out or I’ll slam you into a wall.”

  “Done.” With that, Harris knew they were all right. Damon didn’t hold a grudge. He’d aired his frustration, it was out, they’d dealt with it. Now Damon would move on.

  Harris wished he had the move-on skill.

  “Now back to your messed-up sex life,” Damon said.

  “Let’s not do this.”

  Damon snorted. “You once pissed all over me because you didn’t like the woman I was dating.”

  “Dude, she stole from you. Like, four hundred dollars and a watch.” It was two years ago and the whole scene made Harris wonder if Damon had a sense of self-preservation when it came to women.

  “Whatever.” Damon waved off the concern as a big smile spread across his face. “Back to your hot girlfriend.”

  Harris heard the footsteps then. He looked over his shoulder, following Damon’s gaze to see who was coming. There was Gabby, wearing jeans and an oversized white oxford. The outfit was simple and her long hair was tied back.

  She’d never looked sexier.

  She whistled as she got closer. “You’re talking about hot women? Anyone I know?”

  “You do know how to sneak up on a guy,” Harris said.

  “You’re not exactly quiet.” She stopped right beside Harris. “Like, at all.”

  Harris shot Damon a quick glance. “So I’ve been told.”

  Damon didn’t ease up on the whole leaning-there-trying-to-look-casual thing. He managed to pull it off because his personality came off as oddly relaxed. For a man whose personal history had all the calm of a cyclone, it was an interesting trait. “You’re just the woman I wanted to talk to this morning.”

  “Really? You two seemed pretty intense there for a second.” She looked back and forth between Harris and Damon. “Should I come back?”

  “We’re done.” Harris took her comment to mean she’d been watching. He should have known. The sensation of being under a microscope lingered on this island. “Damon here asks a lot of probing questions.”

  Damon nodded. “They teach you that in investigator school.”

  She pounced. “Speaking of that—”

  “Nope.” Damon stood up straight. “We’re not going to sit around and talk about my credentials. It’s a nice trick, Gabby. The whole thing where you make me the subject, but no.”

  Gabby’s eyes widened. “You’re a little paranoid.”

  “Only a little?” Harris asked.

  “Probably more than most.” Damon stepped back and opened the front door. “You should both come inside.”

  All the amusement faded from Gabby’s face. She went from light and sunny to wary. “I . . . don’t . . .”

  Before Harris could say anything, Damon jumped in. “Gabby, I’m not unsympathetic.”

  She sighed at him. “Let me stop you because I sense you’re about to say something really annoying.”

  “I can’t erase what happened in this house or how you feel. I honestly wish I could step back in time and make that afternoon never happen.” Damon kept holding that door open as he talked. “But it did and the only way I know how to help your sister now is to try to find the person who did this to her.”

  A crackling silence followed his words. Harris knew Damon made sense and that Gabby was smart enough to see that. But sometimes what a person needed to do battled with what they could conceivably do. Taking this step, breaching the doorway and walking inside, asked a lot. Hell, he hadn’t been able to walk back the hallway and search the library yet, but he guessed that was about to end.

  Gabby inhaled, doing nothing to block the loud sound of air whizzing in and out of her. She rubbed her hands together as she stood there so still. Her gaze traveled over the front of the house, up to the second-floor windows. Finally, she nodded. “Fine.”

  Her voice was soft and a bit wobbly. Harris put a hand on her lower back for support. “Are you sure?”

  “He’s right. You’re right.” She seemed breathless and gasping for air as she spoke. “I’ve been going over this and around it. It’s time to go through.”

  Damon didn’t move away from that open door. “Any time you need to step out, you do it.”

  “Thanks.” Still, she didn’t move.

  Harris waited next to her, touching her. The house once meant something to her and her family. He didn’t know how to bring the good memories back. The bloodstain had been removed but the nightmare would linger, likely forever.

  She took the first step. Then another. Her sneakers thudded on the porch as she walked up with halting steps.

  Damon nodded in Harris’s direction. “You can also hold his hand if you want. That sort of thing doesn’t bother me.”

  She glanced up at Damon as she passed him. “You’re an odd man, investigator.”

  “Call me Damon, and, yes, I am.”

  The walk into the grand entry of the main house consisted of some of the hardest steps she’d ever taken. Familiar smells hit her. The cleaning liquid used to keep the banisters shiny. The flowers blooming in the window boxes that then carried their scent into the house.

  The house was old and full of creaks and groans. When the wind swept through from one side to the other the paintings on the wall would rattle and her mother would start her annual speech about how impractical it was to have a house right on the water. Tabitha, so carefree back then, would run into the rooms, opening even more windows.

  They’d had crab feasts here. They once hosted an office picnic on the grounds. Then there was that fund-raiser for literacy. The memories bombarded her as she stood there, eyes closed and reliving them all.

  At some point she slid her hand into Harris’s and now they stood there as if waiting for the house to tell them something. She could hear the steady beat of music and realized Damon had the radio on in the office right off the entry. She glanced over at the desk. It was covered with papers and two laptops. A jacket hung over the back of the chair and his cell sat on the top of the pile.

  “Are we going in there?” She could handle that room. Her father had used it. He’d pretend to work and she’d find him in there, smoking a cigar right through the open window so her mother wouldn’t know. Of course, she always did.

  Damon shook his head. “The library.”

  The words, so innocu
ous, ripped through her. The numbness she’d cultivated, the same lack of feeling that had helped her survive, cracked. Pain seeped through her in this insidious slow drip. If it had slammed into her, she could run outside, but that wasn’t how it worked. Not this time. It spilled through her, touching everything.

  She squeezed Harris’s hand and he pulled her in closer to his side. It was an unspoken comfort. His presence, just being there, gave her someone to lean on.

  She heard a scuffing sound and realized she’d literally been dragging her feet. The distance between her and Damon increased as they walked down the hall. Her speed slowed. Harris didn’t seem in a rush to get there either. He visibly swallowed and more than once she saw him blow out a long breath. It was as if her anxiety transferred to him.

  Damon reached the door and did a double take when he looked how far behind him they were. “We can take as much time as you need.”

  Forever. She needed that long, maybe longer, to get over the choking sensation in her throat. The way her airway closed a little more with each step she took. She put a hand to her throat, wanted to claw at the buttons on her shirt, but all she felt was skin.

  Right before they reached the doorway, Harris stepped in front of her and turned around to face her. “If it’s too soon—”

  “Harris.”

  He ignored Damon’s warning tone and kept talking. “This is about what you need.”

  Then it hit her. He was wrong about this one thing. This really wasn’t about her. It was about Tabitha. This was where she lived her last moments. This was where she lost everything. So, if there was a diary to find or notes that would lead to something substantial, maybe a breakthrough in her case, Gabby would go in. She owed her baby sister that much.

  “I’m okay.” She was anything but, but saying the words helped. She repeated them in her head until it became a mantra.

  Harris lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. “You’re so much better than that.”

  The pain in her stomach made her want to double over, but she fought it off. Her therapist’s words came rushing back. This was about the fear and pain, and she needed to flip that around and use it to fuel her. Overcome it and take back control.

  Every joint ached. Every step tore through her muscles, but still she walked until she got there.

  At first she just hovered in the doorway. Her gaze traveled over the room and landed on the empty spot over the fireplace where a Beckmann painting once rested. The matting had been ripped during Tabitha’s attack. After a court-approved repair, the masterpiece now sat in her uncle’s house, but only as a temporary holding place while the estate battle waged.

  Harris and Damon stared at her while she scanned the piece of furniture and fought off the flood of family memories. Keeping her eyes up—off that floor—she looked from bookshelf to bookshelf. Her gaze hesitated on the doors at the opposite side then dipped down. She shut her eyes, half expecting to see Tabitha there, but saw only carpet. Not the familiar gray one. This one was new and blue.

  She ventured in. Dropping Harris’s hand, she went to the stacks of books on the table. A mix of classics and genre fiction. Tabitha had read it all. Gabby smiled as she picked up a spy novel from the top.

  “Put that down.” Damon’s shout shot across the room.

  The book smacked against the floor. The next minute he was standing next to her.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Harris asked Damon as he put his body between hers and Damon’s.

  “Don’t move for a second.” Damon looked around the room. His gaze flicked from the books to the french doors to Harris’s face. “Were you in here earlier?”

  “What?”

  Harris looked as confused as she felt. The desperate gnawing in her gut as she walked into the room gave way to something else.

  “The books are in a different order than when I was in here last night.” Damon pointed at the bookshelf. “That photo has been moved, as has the curtain that goes in front of the doors to the patio.”

  Harris shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  “Last night I set up the room. The new inside sensor alarms haven’t been installed, so I was extra careful just in case.”

  She glanced down at the books. “Maybe you remembered the order wrong?”

  He scoffed. “No.”

  “You’re saying someone broke in here.” Harris’s voice vibrated with what sounded like anger. “How did you not hear someone running around?”

  “Because no one ran anywhere. The person was quiet and also really careful.”

  She had a million questions, but the shiver running through her made it hard to ask any of them. She went with the most logical problem first. “So, what do we do now?”

  Damon shrugged, as if a break-in wasn’t big news. “At least this narrows things down.”

  “What kind of answer is that?” she asked.

  “The only people on the island last night were the three of us.”

  Harris shook his head. “Someone else could have gotten on by boat.”

  The boat. That piece of information helped restart her brain. “Right. It wasn’t just us. Ted and Craig went to Baltimore. I’m not sure what time they came in, but I saw Craig’s boat leave when we got up this morning, so they were back at some point last night.”

  Harris and Damon looked at each other before Harris spoke up. “You think someone came back with them?”

  “Maybe it’s time I had a talk with Ted and Craig,” Damon said.

  “They wouldn’t do this.” When both men stared at her with blank expressions, she tried to explain. “There’s no reason. They’ve both had access to the island and the house. They were friends with Tabitha. Heck, they’re two of the people she saw on a regular basis.” The way Damon and Harris kept staring made her nervous. She had to clamp down on the need to explode at them. “What is it?”

  “Do you think the fact they were friends with Tabitha makes it less likely one of them would hurt her?” Damon asked.

  “Of course.”

  Harris winced. “People generally are killed by people they know. Not strangers.”

  These two had an upsetting answer for everything. “That’s not possible. Not in this case.”

  Damon nodded. “Okay.”

  As reactions went, she thought that one might be worse than the unblinking stares. “You don’t believe me.”

  Damon sighed. “I believe you believe what you’re saying.”

  “Don’t do this.” A new wave of anxiety hit her. “Please don’t falsely accuse them. I don’t want anyone else to have to deal with that.”

  “Whoa.” Damon held up both hands as if he were trying to placate her. “I’m going to ask questions. That’s all.”

  Harris just stood there, not saying anything. That made her twitchier than the idea of her friends being questioned—again. She turned on him. “Now would be a good time to tell me if you and Damon are actually working together.”

  “Gabby,” Harris said in the voice someone might use to calm an upset child. “The man is trying to do his job.”

  Panic boiled over inside her. Being there, a new break-in . . . Harris’s half answers. She couldn’t deal with all of it right now. Not with them watching her and assessing every move.

  “For the record, that’s not an answer.” The words rushed out of her then she started walking. Down the hall, into the entry. Out into the sunshine.

  Harris wanted to chase after her, but what could he say? He’d been lying to her from the start. Sure, they had a mutual-deception thing going, which made absolutely no sense since they had shared never-tell-anyone type secrets. But he hadn’t been honest about knowing Damon or telling her about his own role in what happened fourteen months ago. At least one of those truths seemed like an impossible climb.

  “I’ve realized one thing,” Damon said from right over Harris’s shoulder.

  “What?”

  “You kind of suck with women.”

/>   Harris nodded as he watched Gabby get farther away on the path. “With this one, yeah.”

  “Let’s hope she’s not on the video.”

  Harris spun around to face Damon. “What are you talking about?”

  “I told you Wren put cameras on the island. It’s why I didn’t bother locking the front door last night. Well, that and because I couldn’t guarantee Gabby wouldn’t kick you out of bed again.” Damon hesitated, likely for dramatic effect. “But my point is one of those well-hidden, invisible-to-the-naked-eye cameras will show us who came into the house.”

  Harris closed his eyes. He knew it wasn’t her. There was no way she snuck out after they had sex. He refused to believe she’d tired him out to go hunting again. “Damn.”

  “If she got away from you once, she could have done it twice.”

  It was as if Damon was in his head, reading every thought. Harris hated that. “It wasn’t her.”

  “We’ll know soon enough.”

  Chapter 12

  Damon insisted on immediately questioning the Kramer men. Harris wasn’t about to miss that. Tagging along also gave him a chance to put a little more breathing room between him and Gabby. The idea of letting her cool off before they talked sounded good to him. He just hoped they were talking hours and not days.

  They tracked Kramer and Ted to the pool. They’d been standing there, walking around and checking gauges, pumps and water levels for over an hour. Harris figured they had to be done soon or at least need a break.

  Damon didn’t waste any time. He started talking as soon as they stepped onto the flagstone patio running along one side of the infinity pool. “I need to talk with Ted.”

  “No,” Kramer answered without looking up from rummaging through his toolbox.

  Ted rolled his eyes. “Dad.”

  “Neither of you actually get to say no,” Damon said, talking right over Ted.

  Kramer looked up then. “Are you FBI? Do you have a badge?”

  This was going well. Harris couldn’t imagine what usable information they could get out of this conversation. “He’s got you there.”

  Kramer continued to balance on his haunches as his focus turned to Harris. “And why are you here?”