The High Tide Club

“But you didn’t stay there,” Brooke said. “Louette and Shug checked. We checked. It looked like you’d packed up and left in a hurry.”

“I got to the cottage that night, and the lights were on. I could see him, through the window, going through my stuff.”

“Who?”

“Wynant. He was real careful not to mess stuff up, but I seen him take those papers, the ones that showed all the bad check charges and liens. I watched him, and after he’d gone, I went in, and like you said, I packed up some stuff, got some food, and got the hell out of dodge. Come over here and let myself into the lighthouse, and I been staying here ever since.”

“I’m glad you reached out to me, but why now? And why hide out at all? Why not go to the sheriff? That’s attempted murder, C. D.”

“The sheriff? The same one who locked me up for pissin’ on his deputy’s tires? You think he’s gonna believe me over the lawyer with the suits and the watch and the Porsche?”

“But you could show him those same papers you showed me; it’s pretty incriminating evidence, C. D. He seems like a reasonable guy to me.”

“That’s because you’re a cute young lawyer lady, not a crusty old bastard like me,” C. D. said. He rooted around in his cooler and brought out a sandwich. “Want one? Well, this is my last one, but I got some chips you can have if you’re hungry.”

“No,” she said weakly, fighting another wave of nausea. “God, no.”

Her phone, tucked into the pocket of her jeans, pinged softly, startling her, because her cell phone reception on the island was usually so spotty. She reached for it and saw she had an incoming text from Farrah.

G was here. Told him I don’t know where u r, but seemed suspicious. FYI.

“Who’s that?” C. D. asked, instantly wary.

“It’s from my babysitter. C. D., does your phone have cell service up here?”

“Yeah, best reception on the island usually, ’cause we’re up so high, but it ain’t got no juice now, and I left the charger at my place.”

Her own phone indicated she had only one bar, and her battery was running down, but she tapped Farrah’s number, praying the call would go through.

“Who you calling?” he demanded.

“My babysitter. I need to tell her to pick up my son from day care, okay?”

“Hey,” Farrah said, her words rushing together. “Brooke, I’m sorry. I was telling Gabe you had an appointment, and just then, Brittni pulled up outside and honked her horn. I went out to talk to her. I swear, I was only gone a minute. But I had all those printouts on top of my desk. I think maybe he saw them.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but he left in a big hurry,” Farrah said. “I tried to call you for like, half an hour, but then I remembered you don’t have cell service over there, so I tried a text.”

C. D. was staring at her intently, his hand resting lightly on the gun on his hip.

“Okay,” Brooke said cautiously. “That’s fine.”

“Huh? You seem kinda weird. Is something wrong? Where exactly are you?”

“Yes,” Brooke said pleasantly. “I think that’s a great idea. You and Jaxson can pick up Henry. Take him to that place the two of you used to go last summer, with the great view, okay?”

“Huh? Are you talking in code?”

“Come on, wrap it up,” C. D. said.

“Yes. Okay, gotta run,” Brooke said. “Also, maybe pick me up a bottle of Captain Morgan?”

“What the hell, Brooke?” Farrah said, just as Brooke was disconnecting.

C. D. sighed his annoyance. “Look, I called you because I need help.” He looked her square in the face, his voice pleading. “I need you to go to the sheriff with me and tell him I’m telling the truth. Don’t let that lawyer get away with what he done to me. Don’t let him cheat me out of what I’m due from Josephine.”

“All right,” Brooke said finally, tucking her phone away. “I’ll see what I can do.” She stood, but the room seemed to swim beneath her feet again. She swayed slightly, then slumped against the glass.

“Hey, you don’t look too good,” C. D. said. He took her arm and tried to steady her. They heard a car coming, and he was on instant alert. He picked up the binoculars resting on top of the fruit crate and looked.

“Shit. That’s Wynant.”

64

C. D. whirled around to confront Brooke. “You lied, damn it. You led him right to me!”

The truck was the ancient turquoise one that belonged to Josephine. She’d noticed it earlier, at the dock, parked with the other vehicles under the shade of a twisted cedar tree. She watched as it pulled up to the grassy area at the foot of the lighthouse. Gabe hopped out and looked around. He darted toward the lighthouse keeper’s cottage, trying the locked door and peering in the window, before staring up at the lighthouse. C. D. ducked down onto the floor, and Brooke reflexively followed suit.

“I didn’t tell him anything. I swear I didn’t,” Brooke said. She didn’t know whether Gabe’s arrival was a rescue mission or not.

“How did he know we were here?” C. D. grabbed the front of Brooke’s shirt. “Was that him you just called? I should have known you’re in cahoots with him. Lemme see that phone.” He took her phone, and stared down at the screen.

Brooke wrenched away from the old man. “Think about it, C. D. I had no way of knowing you were here at the lighthouse. And I have no idea what Gabe is doing here.”

C. D. duck-walked away from the window, then stood, his fingers resting nervously on the holster on his hip again. “If you’re lying to me…”

“I’m not.”

They heard the door open below.

C. D. cursed softly. “Forgot to lock the damn door.” He stood looking down the stairwell. “Wynant, I seen you down there. You need to not come up here. I already told Brooke what you’ve been up to. You’re done, asshole.”

“Brooke?” Gabe yelled. “Are you up there with him? Are you okay? Has he hurt you?”

“I ain’t ever hurt a woman in my life,” C. D. called. “You’re the one that bashed me in the head, threw me into the creek, and left me for dead. But the joke’s on you. I’m alive, and I’m fixing to tell the sheriff everything I know.”

Gabe’s footfalls echoed off the brick walls. They heard his labored breathing, and then he stopped.

“Brooke, whatever he’s told you is bullshit. He’s been trying to blackmail me. It’s true, I had some money problems right after Sunny died. I was out of my head with grief, I had no idea about the kind of money she’d been spending. But that’s all it was.”

Could that explain the source of Gabe’s financial distress? Had C. D. overreacted?

“Yeah, right!” C. D. hollered. “How do you explain what happened on the boat the other night? How’d I get that gash on the back of my head?”

More footsteps, and Gabe stopped again. “He’s been trying to blackmail me. Calling me repeatedly. I agreed to meet with him, but once we got on the boat, he started threatening me, waving that gun of his around. He’d been drinking. When I refused to give him any money, he shot at me! He missed, and that’s when I hit him with the beer bottle and took off for the dock. He could have killed me.”