Kyra keyed in the code Tarek’s locksmith had texted her to open the front door. He had also installed a deadbolt on the interior. She turned it, already feeling more secure. Cronkite was awaiting Kyra’s return, sitting on the kitchen island. He greeted her with an impatient meow.
“Sorry. I’m home now, Cronker.” She gave the cat’s ears a scratch and tossed him a few treats. She had driven back on her own after texting Tarek that she was going home. Hopefully, he’d find a ride back.
Kyra still hadn’t eaten. She stood in front of her fridge. She surveyed its meager contents before letting the door close. The emptiness of the house felt stifling. She packed up her laptop and grabbed the car keys. I’ll grab food in town.
She drove into Edgartown and parked. She wandered the streets before finding herself in front of Gully’s place. Smiling, she pushed open the door and entered the warm, musty pub. The hostess waved at her to sit anywhere, and she chose a small table near the fireplace. The heat from the flames warmed her back, and the tightness across her shoulders melted. Her interactions with Margot Hawthorn had stung more than she realized. She’d looked at me like I was some foul insect or gum stuck to her shoe. Kyra shivered. She ordered a glass of wine and a cup of clam chowder. When the server left, she set up her computer.
Kyra tried to concentrate on work, but the warmth and familiarity of the pub, along with the guests’ soft chatter, made it impossible. Her soup and drink arrived and, accepting defeat, she let her attention wander and people-watched from behind her computer screen.
A man sat alone at a nearby table. He looked familiar. Recognition dawned on her. It’s the man from last night, the one from The Island Pearl. Adele’s Coast Guard officer. What was his name? Kyra racked her brain, trying to remember. He was nursing a beer, scrolling through his phone. Tarek had said he’d been the one who’d found my father.
“Hey,” she called, and when he looked up, she gave him a big smile and wiggled her fingers. “Hi, we met last night. Want to join me?” She pointed to the empty seat at her table.
He stared at her for a second, shrugged, and shuffled over. By his sluggish movements, Kyra guessed he’d been at the pub for a while.
“Hi,” she said again, forcing a cheerful smile, and extended her hand. “I’m Kyra.” His hand was hot and rough in hers.
“Hey,” he grunted. “Brody.”
“It’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” Kyra exaggerated her accent. “You were on that fancy boat in the harbor last night. Is it yours?”
“Basically.” He shrugged. “It’s my friend’s, but I can use it anytime I want.”
Is that so? Were you using it last winter?
“Oh, really? Are you a captain?” She tried to look impressed, widening her eyes, feigning interest. She pushed her hair behind her ear and tried not to cringe at her awkward flirting.
“Oh. No.” He shook his head, and a smug smile crept across his face. “But I know boats. I’m Coast Guard.” His eyes traveled down her chest, and he licked his lips.
Ick. “Oh, so you must spend a lot of time here on the island.” This. Is. Humiliating.
“I’m stationed in Falmouth, just on the mainland.”
He finished his beer, and Kyra ordered another round, although she’d barely touched her drink.
“I spend a lot of time on the island, so yeah.” He waved at the harbor. “Helping rich people who’ve grounded their expensive toys.” His tone had gone bitter, and his lips curled into a sneer. Brody slugged back a third of his pint.
“Really? My, that must be dangerous.”
“Not in the summer so much.” He shrugged and leaned back. “They just have to wait for the tide to come back in. But in the winter, when we get the nor’easters—these big storms that blow northeast with snow and rain, sort of like a hurricane—the waves can engulf houses.” He gestured around him. “The harbor, even this bar, has all been underwater. The storms throw the boats onto the shore, or sometimes people go out in the storms and get stranded, or worse.”
“I heard there was a dreadful storm this past winter in January?” Kyra sipped her wine.
“Oh, yeah. A real bad one.” Brody nodded. “It damaged a bunch of rich people’s houses. I had leave that week, so I was visiting my friend here on the island, but they dispatched my crew on two rescue missions.”
“Did the storm impact you and your friend? Were you on your boat?”
Brody frowned. Shit. She’d asked the wrong question.
She scrambled to recover. “I mean, it would have been terrifying to be on the water during a storm.” She ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass. He watched her movements and glanced at her mouth. She tried not to roll her eyes. Just. Fucking. Shoot. Me.
“Yeah.” He stretched his hands over his head. “I, uh…” A blast of cold air hit them from the open door. His eyes went wide, and he sucked in his cheeks.
Kyra turned to see who had caught his attention. Adele Lee was standing at the entrance, her eyes locked on Brody. Her face and neck were red and blotchy with rage. She marched to their table, her boots thunking on the floorboards.
She sat. “What the fuck is going on, Brody?” Adele hissed, her eyes boring into him.
“Oh. Hi, babe,” he said. Guess that confirms that. “This is uh…” He turned to Kyra. “What was your name again?”
“Kyra.” What a dipshit.
“Yeah, Kyra. She’s from England. She was just asking me about the island,” he slurred.
Adele’s eyes fell on Kyra, and she tried not to flinch under her glare, so much like Margot’s. “You’re that nosy off islander who was snooping around my house today. With that cop.” She whipped her head back to Brody. “What the fuck have you been saying to her? Mother caught her and threw her out. We’re suing the police department for harassment.” She lifted her chin and eyed Kyra as if challenging her to contradict her.
Kyra pushed her chair back and stood up. She wasn’t in the mood to be attacked by another Hawthorn woman. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but I’m not with the police. Detective Collins is the one investigating the death of your brother’s friend.” Kyra tossed some money down and yanked on her jacket.
“Wait,” Adele shouted.
Kyra froze. The room fell silent. Heads swiveled in their direction.
“That degenerate is not my brother. He is nothing to me.”
Feeling eyes on her, Kyra shrugged, hoping she looked bored, and left the bar.
Outside her composure crumbled. She breathed in. One, two, three. And out. One, two, three. The pounding in her chest subsided. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, hot with embarrassment. She is totally unhinged.
Kyra was still queasy when she pulled into her father’s driveway. Tarek’s state-issued SUV still sat in front of her garage. She entered the house and through the living room’s wall of windows saw Tarek standing down by the cove, holding his cell phone up to the sky. She walked out onto the patio.
“Hello?”
He jumped and whirled around. “Oh, hey.” A smile spread across his face.
A pleasant fizz ran through her body, and she grinned back.
“You startled me.” He gestured to the phone. “One bar.”
“Come in. You can use the landline. I swear, this island is still in the Dark Ages.”
Tarek followed her inside and disappeared into the office.
Kyra turned on the fireplace, yanked off her boots, and curled up on the couch. She tucked the throw blanket around her legs.
Soon, Tarek came back. He gave her a tired smile. Kyra saw the strain behind his eyes as he sat next to her and let out a long sigh.
“How did the rest of the interviews go?”
“Standard.” He leaned back and stretched out his long legs. “We don’t have much more information than we had this morning.”
“There’s something off about that family.” Kyra frowned and told him about her interactions with Margot at the house and then Adele at the pub.
“The way she spat at me.” Kyra shivered at the memory. “She was so angry. She said Chase wasn’t her brother. What do you think that means?”
“I got the impression that Adele is a bit of a loose cannon. Was she implying that he’s not Margot’s son? Or she doesn’t consider them siblings?”
“I don’t know.” Kyra shook her head.
“It’s strange that she’s so ostracized in public but still welcome at the house.”
“I’m not sure she is welcome.” Kyra propped her feet up on the coffee table and rested her head against the couch cushions. “She said there was a mix-up with their invitation to the senator’s party.” Kyra chewed on her bottom lip, trying to remember the argument she’d overheard at the fundraiser. “But both Beth and Mr. Grover claim she wasn’t expected at the party. Then there was that argument with her husband today. I don’t think the family knew she was coming, or at least they hadn’t asked her to come. She could have been staying elsewhere until last night.” She turned to look at Tarek.
He was watching her, his eyes dark. Tarek sat up.
He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand in every direction. “We’re working on tracking down when the Lees got on the island.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages. “I got the information on the burner phone. That’s why I came over. To show you. The number your father was texting was registered to Senator Hawthorn’s office.”
“What? Seriously?” Kyra sat forward. “Do you think it was the senator or Mr. Grover?”
“I doubt either would be foolish enough to use their office phones. The senator wouldn’t want to implicate himself in a scandal, but it looks like your dad was meeting with someone close to Phil Hawthorn.”
“You said the number was from the Boston suburbs?”
Tarek nodded and he looked away.
“Didn’t Grover say that was where Brendan was from?” Kyra felt her excitement building, like when she figured out the bits to a complex deal. “Frameham or something?”
Tarek pursed his lips and gave her a strange look. “Framingham,” he said after a long pause. “He grew up there.”
“Did you check if it was his phone?” Tarek was looking out at the cove. Why is he being strange? Does he know something that he isn’t telling me? She crossed her arms over her chest.
“You think the two incidents are related?”
Kyra started. Wait, what? “Don’t you?”
Tarek cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Kyra felt a surge of irritation. She pushed her hair away from her face and counted the facts off on her fingers. “My father died on the senator’s boat. He was talking with someone in the senator’s office. Brendan, the senator’s aide, ends up shot. The contact number in my father’s phone is from the same area where Brendan grew up.” Kyra glared at him. “Aren’t you the one paid to make connections? I thought you didn’t believe in coincidences.” She threw his words back at him and stood up.
She was fed up with his caginess. It was infuriating.
Tarek stood up, too. He slid his hands in his pockets and studied her for a moment.
“No, I don’t.” He broke eye contact. “But, Kyra, you need to understand.”
No! His placating tone only pissed her off more. Kyra stomped off into the kitchen, pulling her phone from her pocket. Her fingers flew over the screen.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Tarek cursed under his breath, and she heard his footsteps as he followed her.
“Grover will have Brendan’s phone number.” She poured herself a glass of water.
Grover responded almost immediately, and she pulled up the text. She tossed the phone at Tarek with a little more force than necessary. He caught it easily.
“Well?” She raised her chin in a challenge.
He set her phone down without looking and sighed. “It’s the same number.”
Kyra huffed an incredulous laugh. You’ve got to be kidding me. What game is he playing at? There was only one reason he’d act this way. He didn’t trust her. Does he think I’m somehow involved? Her stomach dropped.
Tarek’s eyes closed, and he sucked in a breath. When they reopened, something in his demeanor had changed.
“Recent findings should provide sufficient grounds to reopen the inquest into Mr. Gibson’s death.”
Kyra flinched at his renewed formality.
“Fine. Do it,” she snapped at him.
She was hurt. After the charity party, the pub, the farm, she’d thought they were friends, or at the very least, on the same team. Now he was relegating her to family member of murder victim. It stung.
“I’ll make the official recommendation tomorrow, before I head off island.” Tarek nodded. “Goodnight, Ms. Gibson.” He turned to leave.
“You’re going somewhere?” She hated that her voice wavered.
Tarek turned back, and something in his expression softened. “Yes. I’m returning to the city to meet with Brendan’s mother.”
Kyra looked away. “What about the ping locations from my father’s phone?”
“Cyber forensics are unable to pinpoint a specific address, but they have isolated the areas within a few blocks. When I’m in Boston, I’ll visit the locations, try to narrow it down.”
“I can go. I can help.”
“What?” He stared at her. “No.”
“I’ll know the meeting places. And I know how he worked with his sources.”
“Respectfully, you haven’t had a relationship with your father in over twenty years.” His voice was cold, dismissive.
Kyra flushed, embarrassed. He’s not wrong. I did hardly know him. And that’s my fault. What does that say about me?
Tarek made a frustrated noise and stepped closer. “You can’t be a part of the investigation, Kyra. This is official police business now.” He ran his hands through his hair and gave her an imploring look, like he was searching for the right thing to say. “Look, I’ll email you the information on the pings. If you see anything, let me know. I’ll call you when I’m back on the island.”
Kyra stood staring at her kitchen floor long after Tarek had left.