Page 19 of Light of Day (Sea Smoke Island #1)

Nothing at Denton Simms’ house pointed to a struggle.

Nothing gave Luke any hints about how he’d ended up on the rocks at Seaweed Cove.

He wanted to search Denton’s lobster boat, the Sea Siren , which bobbed at its mooring just off the rocks below his house.

But he decided to wait until the morning to do that.

He also wanted to talk to the other fishermen and find out if any feuds had recently erupted.

The fact was, Denton could have simply gone for a walk on the cliffs, fallen somehow, bruised his neck, and tumbled below the high tide line.

The currents could have landed him in Seaweed Cove the next day.

As he and Heather drove to the Highgroves’ place, he made a mental note to check the detailed charts of the local currents.

Maybe there was a way to calculate roughly where he’d fallen into the water… if he’d fallen.

He could have been dumped, too.

The surreal-ness of it all suddenly hit him. A potential murder on Sea Smoke Island. On his watch. Fucking hell.

“I need to make a quick stop. It’s on the way,” he told Heather.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

He needed to see Izzy. Urgently. He needed a whiff of her sunshine.

A few moments later, they pulled up outside Carrie’s house, the same single-story house, white with green shutters, that she’d grown up in. The Prevosts had retired to Florida and signed it over to her.

He glanced at Heather and saw that she understood completely what he was doing.

The front door opened and Izzy came flying across the front lawn toward them, as hyped-up as a curly-haired windup toy. He jumped out and swept her into his arms.

“I saw you from the window!” she said excitedly. “Are we going for ice cream?”

He glanced at Heather, who was climbing out the passenger side.

“Ice cream sounds like a great idea,” she said.

Thank you , he mouthed. But before he could tell Izzy to hop in, Carrie jogged down the path to join them. “Not tonight. She already brushed her teeth.”

Of course Izzy hadn’t mentioned that detail. She grinned and showed off her freshly brushed teeth—and the gap where one was missing.

“It came out!” He gave her a high-five. “Did you try the apple trick?”

“No, it just decided to come out after I asked it really nicely.” She had the Carmichael family’s blue-blue eyes, along with Carrie’s frizzy blond hair and tendency toward chubbiness, and altogether was an adorable cherub of a child. Not that he was biased.

Carrie and Heather were busy hugging each other in greeting.

“I heard you were back on the island,” said Carrie, smiling, as she drew back. “You’re always big news, you know.”

Heather laughed. “Like I always say, only believe half of it. And look at Izzy. So grown up!”

“Isn’t she?” Carrie turned to Izzy. “Izzy, remember that Christmas card that played that funny music you liked? Heather sent us that.”

Izzy clapped her hands and sang the tune off-key, the one she’d sung over and over last winter. Luke hadn’t realized that Heather had sent that card. It touched him in an unexpected way.

Luke nuzzled his nose against his daughter’s forehead, which always made her giggle. “How about we get some ice cream tomorrow, before you brush your teeth?”

“Okay. Mommy, can I have hot cocoa?”

“No, you cannot,” Carrie said with a laugh as Luke handed over their daughter. Izzy wriggled out of her grasp and ran back inside, giggling hysterically.

“Thanks,” Luke told her. “I just needed a moment with her.”

“I totally get it.” Carrie tucked her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. “Just text me tomorrow when you’ll be here for ice cream. Earlier is better. And Heather, come by anytime if you want to catch up. It’s been a minute.”

Once they were underway again, the band around his heart sufficiently eased, Luke said, “Izzy loved that card, she slept with it under her pillow, even at my place.”

“Aw, that’s so cute. She’s a doll. I’m happy she liked that goofy card. You know, Carrie and I used to be really good friends, before our lives went completely different directions.”

“Speaks well of you. Carrie’s picky about her friends.”

Her eyes caught his, with a shine of moonlight, and something rippled between them. “Maybe after we find Gabby I will drop by and catch up with Carrie. I’ll see if she spills any secrets about Constable Carmichael.”

“She wouldn’t dare. We’re in a good place right now, and neither of us wants to mess it up.”

“Was it tough at first? I’m sure it’s extra-hard when kids are involved.”

“It was bad. Really bad, right up until our first counseling session. I’m not proud of everything I did, and I know she isn’t either.

” He wasn’t sure why he was telling Heather all this.

Maybe it was that musical Christmas card.

Izzy had played it over and over until its battery finally ran out.

Carrie had told him it was from an old friend, but he hadn’t made the connection to Heather.

“What happened at your first counseling session?” Heather asked curiously.

“The therapist asked if we wanted help separating or staying together, and we both answered ‘separating,’ in sync, as if we’d practiced. We went from there with the goal of wanting things to be smooth for Izzy’s sake. Real learning curve, that’s for sure.”

“Well, Izzy seems like a very happy child. I think you both did something right.”

He slowed down, looking for the Highgroves’ house.

The lampposts were few and far between on this road, with plenty of distance between each house.

The Highgroves were a family of freewheeling artists, one of whom had a trust fund.

That was how they’d managed to purchase one of the nicest properties on the west side…

and then proceeded to fill it with chickens and goats and compost bins.

Relations with their neighbors were mixed.

In fact, hadn’t he just fielded a call from Amelia Burnhauser next door? It seemed like months ago at this point. That was how off the rails his life had gotten.

The Highgroves were having a Scrabble night slash smokefest—he sniffed weed as soon as Lily opened the door, her Scrabble tiles in hand. “Can you see any words in here?” she asked him by way of greeting.

“Uh…maybe ‘rake’? Is Andy here?”

“How did I not see that?” She moved the tile holder closer, then farther away. “My glasses. Where are my glasses? I believe the Borrowers took them again.”

“Most likely,” he agreed, because why not? “Andy?” He prompted her.

“He’ll be back soon. You want to come in and wait for him?”

“That’s okay. Thanks, Lily.”

“Blessed be.”

He trotted back down the front path and dove into the refuge of his truck. Heather leaned toward him and sniffed his jacket. “Smoking on the job?”

“Jesus.” He took a whiff of his sleeve and made a face. “I didn’t even step inside. Those guys are hardcore. Andy isn’t home, but she says he’ll be back soon.”

“Let’s wait. Can we do that, or would that be considered stalking?”

He grinned. “When you’re the police, the word is stakeout.”

“A stakeout. Cool. That’s a bucket list item for sure.” She propped her stocking feet on the dashboard. “I wish we had snacks. Uh-oh, maybe I’m stoned just from smelling your jacket.”

“You know I’m a single dad, right? Snacks are my superpower.

” He took off that troublesome jacket and tossed it in the back seat, grabbing his cooler bag at the same time.

He unzipped it and showed her the extensive collection of cheese sticks, Ritz crackers, fruit rolls and juice boxes he kept on standby.

“That is beautiful,” she breathed. “May I?”

“Help yourself. I can restock tonight.”

By the time they were done snacking, Heather had perfected a method of combining a Ritz cracker, an apple rollup—it had to be apple—with a chunk of cheddar cheese stick. They joked about adding it to the kids menu at the Bloodshot Eyeball, then shared a Capri Sun that was so sweet his eyes watered.

“I had no idea stakeouts were so fun,” Heather said when they’d satisfied their hunger. “You really know how to show a stakeout buddy a good time.”

“You know that’s the second time you’ve called me your buddy.” He zipped the cooler bag up and stowed it in the back seat. “How did I get that label?”

“Well, what would you call it? I’m open to suggestions. I am a stakeout virgin, so what do I know?”

He laughed. “Stakeout virgin, huh?”

“First time,” she said cheerfully. “Excellent service, ten stars out of ten.”

“If you’re a stakeout virgin, how would you know what to expect?”

“Good point. Is something missing?”

On impulse—sheer, spontaneous, out-of-the-blue impulse—he leaned across the seat and touched his lips to hers. He felt her shock in the way she stiffened, and drew back immediately. “Sorry. Jesus. I don’t know where that?—”

She interrupted him by doing the same thing he’d just done, pressing her lips to his. They were warm and soft and tasted of Capri Sun. It didn’t feel like just a kiss; it felt like a moment of discovery, a… Hi there. It’s you.

“Okay,” she said when they drew apart. “Wow. I didn’t…I didn’t think…”

“That there might be something here? I guess there is.”

“I guess so.” They locked eyes for a long moment, until they were interrupted by the beam of headlights rounding the corner. Someone was arriving at the Highgroves’ house.