LIGHT OF DAY
Sea Smoke Island ~ Book 1
Excerpt
The jingle of a bell made Luke snap to attention. A banana-seat bicycle—vintage cruiser style, but not in the cute retro way, just the rusty way—lurched to a stop before him. It looked like it belonged to a ten-year-old, but the rider was a full-grown woman. Did she look vaguely familiar? Maybe, but he searched his mind and couldn’t place her. Her eyes were a bright hazel, her hair in a ponytail under a flamingo-pink helmet, her flushed face nearly matching it.
“Constable Carmichael?” she asked, sounding quite formal.
He stood at attention and gave a salute, then swept into a deep bow. Hell, he had to keep this job interesting one way or the other. “That’s me, here to protect and serve.”
Her eyebrows lifted and laughter flashed in her eyes. “I feel safer already.”
“Glad that’s settled, because I’m on my way out, actually. Got a big case to investigate.”
He knew her. Somehow he did. She wore cutoff shorts and a hoodie unzipped over a red shirt that barely reached her waistband. A sliver of flesh was visible between shirt and shorts, though he tried not to notice it.
“This is urgent.” The merriment disappeared from her face. “My friend is missing. We were texting just like normal, and then she just stopped answering and that’s very much not normal for her.”
A lead. Just like that. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll take your statement.”
Now he was the one sounding formal and professional. This was starting to feel like a real case, maybe that was why. The missing girl’s friend wouldn’t have come all the way out here if she didn’t believe something was wrong.
She propped her bike under the lilac bush, against the wall of the station.
“Kickstand’s broken,” she explained as he opened the door for her.
“Probably just needs some—”
“WD-40, I know. I just got back and I didn’t want to take the time.”
So she was from here. Of course she was. Who else except an islander would be riding a rusty bike around?
He slipped behind his desk and plucked his pad from the top drawer. “Let’s start with your name.”
“Heather McPhee.”
His head jerked up. “Sally McPhee’s daughter?”
“Yes.” She held his gaze levelly, though he observed tension in her jaw and a slight challenge in her eyes. I dare you to say anything.
He did not. Before she got sober, Sally had been a frequent visitor to the lockup. In fact, his predecessor kept a special blanket just for her, because she was allergic to cotton. But he wasn’t here to judge.
He racked his brain for what he knew about Heather. She was smart, right? She’d gotten a college scholarship and left the island. Someone who tended to stir up trouble and get people talking. Friend of his ex, Carrie, and that whole crew of island girls. Wasn’t she living in Boston? Luke hadn’t listened too closely to the local gossip about her, though now he wished he had.
He took down her address and phone number and other pertinent information, which she delivered in an increasingly impatient tone. “What does any of this have to do with Gabby? I’m really worried about her.”
“Tell me more about Gabby. When’s the last time you talked to her?”
She rattled off the exact time and content of their conversation. Halfway through, she stopped. “You already know she’s missing.”
He tilted his head in a “yes.”
“Then what are we doing here? Are you stonewalling? Wasting my time? God, this island. Nothing ever changes.” She bolted to her feet. “Never mind, I’ll find her myself.”
“Heather.” He reached across the desk and grabbed her arm. For some reason, his pride was stung that she would think he wouldn’t do a thorough job investigating her friend’s disappearance. “I’m not stonewalling. Gabby was staying at the hotel, and Judy Griffin just reported her missing this morning, right before you got here. Whatever you can tell me about her will be helpful.”
Narrowing her eyes, she sat back down. “Is Gabby the big case you mentioned?”
“Yes. I was about to go question the staff at the hotel. After that, I plan to take my boat out and see if she’s stranded on the rocks somewhere.”
“Sorry,” she murmured. She brushed her hair—tangled from its time under her helmet—away from her face. He noticed a slight puffiness under her eyes. Had she been crying because of Gabby, or something else?
“No worries. Listen,” he said impulsively. “Why don’t you come with me? Since you know her, you could be helpful.”
“Really?” Her face brightened with a big grin. There was something very vivid and alive about Heather. “Is that allowed?”
“Anywhere else, probably not. But who’s going to stop me out here?”
“Good point. Is that because you’re the constable, or because you’re a Carmichael?”
Ouch. But she too had a good point. Being the son of the island’s largest landowner was a double-edged sword. It had taken a long time for the locals to trust him.
“Little of both,” he admitted. “Come on, let’s take my truck. I can throw your bike in the back.”
Now there was a dose of childhood nostalgia. Tired legs pumping as he rode back across the sandbar, a hotel worker kind enough to offer him a ride—except his bikes had always been top-of-the-line and never had pink plastic streamers dangling from the handlebars.
Heather hesitated before answering. “Let me make a quick call first. I still haven’t even seen my mom.”
She stepped aside and dialed a number. When she didn’t get an answer, she shrugged and went to get her bike from under the lilac bush.
“Families, am I right?” she murmured as she handed her bike over to him so he could nestle it into the bed of his truck, between coils of rope and a lobster pot that needed mending.
“Amen to that.”