Page 34 of Light of Day (Sea Smoke Island #1)

“It was the telephone,” Heather said slowly.

The thick sense of dread that had come with the dream flooded back to her.

“The other times I’ve had the dream, the word ‘telephone’ kept coming up.

Like, someone was shouting it, or it was echoing around somehow.

The whole dream was confusing, but at least now I understand the part about the house moving into the ocean. ”

Drawing in a long shaky breath, she told him the new part of the dream.

“The same little girl that I always see in the dreams is standing in the doorway of the house. She looks terrified, she’s almost crying.

And I’m asking her if she knows what a telephone is.

I keep repeating it over and over. ‘What is a telephone?’ But she doesn’t know.

She starts crying. Then I ask her who the president is.

She can’t answer that either, and just starts sobbing into her pinafore.

I feel bad, but I have to keep going. She runs past me and I see that she’s barefoot and she’s running across the beach.

It’s the Shell Beach, our Shell Beach, the same as in my other dreams. Then she runs into the ocean and I feel like I should go after her, but I can’t because it’s not my job, and I have to do my job, but I feel so terrible that I close my eyes because I can’t watch her drown herself.

And I know that I will drown myself when I’m done, and it’s what I deserve. ”

She shook off the residual horror of the dream, grateful for Luke’s hand on her shoulder, holding her steady.

“Jesus. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She shuddered as the last vestiges of those nightmarish feelings wisped away.

“It wasn’t me in the dream, I know that much.

I think it was Hennessy. I read in an article I found last night that Hennessy developed a test to give the islanders.

If they didn’t pass, they might be sent to the School for the Feeble-Minded.

It was based on something called the Binet Scale, but much simpler, just a few questions.

I think my brain put it all together for me last night.

Wait, let me check something else first.”

She found her phone and did a quick Internet search. Sure enough, what she suspected was true.

She showed him the information she’d found on her phone.

“Yup, that’s what I thought. Telephones started being installed in private homes in this part of Maine around the turn of the century, but of course it was just for the wealthy at first, and only on the mainland.

On the islands, everything came later. The first telephone on Sea Smoke was a phone for the hotel, which was installed in nineteen-fifty. ”

“So what does this have to do with your dream?” Luke asked.

“Here’s my theory. Hennessy used the question about telephones as part of his test because he knew the islanders might not even know what they were, especially the children. He picked questions that would trip them up. And he felt so guilty about it that he drowned his shame with drinking.”

Luke scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Are you sure you’re not jumping ahead of the facts?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure how to confirm it one way or the other. But I know one thing. Hennessy did drink, and he told his son what he’d done. His son drank too much too, and so on down the line. Our family suffered from his actions, but I want to stop that cycle.”

“You already have, haven’t you? You moved off the island. You don’t drink.”

All that was true. But it wasn’t enough. Heather jumped to her feet. “I need to do more. I want to right the wrong.”

“It’s over. It’s in the past. How are you going to do that?”

“Rephrase. I want to light the wrong. It needs to be exposed. Brought to light. People around here need to know if anyone was chased off their land. And what about their descendants?”

“We don’t even know if there are any descendants, or where they would be now.”

“Maybe that’s what Denton Simms uncovered. That’s why he reached out to Gabby.” Poor Denton. Whatever evidence he’d discovered, he’d wanted it to get out into the world, through Gabby. Instead, he’d ended up in Seaweed Cove, wrapped in kelp.

“Which brings me to my next question,” Luke said. “Why Gabby? She’s not from here. Why did Denton decide to trust her with such explosive information, if it exists?”

She could feel Luke’s resistance to her theory.

Was that because his family was involved?

Andy had heard two members of the Carmichael family say threatening things about Gabby.

The Carmichaels had a lot more at stake than the McPhees.

They’d built a fortune on this island, while the McPhees had degenerated into messy alcoholics.

Maybe she needed to pursue this on her own. Could she really trust a Carmichael? This particular Carmichael?

She wanted to. She liked Luke, more than liked him…

the sight of him this morning had sent the flock of butterflies in her belly into overdrive.

Last night had been an incredible, world-changing experience.

But this wasn’t about her. This was about the truth.

And the truth could be a bitter pill to swallow.

“I need to get back to my mom,” she told him. “We have to start the cleanup at the Eyeball. Maybe it’s best if we pause all this for now. We’ve obviously pissed someone off, and I don’t want my mom to pay the price.”

He looked at her narrowly with those deep blue eyes—Carmichael eyes, like the sky at twilight. Like rare jewels, like cloudless skies and endless good fortune. “Are you sure? We’ve come this far. If we don’t find out who’s behind these fires, they might do it again.”

“That’s your job, big guy.” Covering up the gulf widening between them, she tossed him a saucy wink. “You’re the constable, not me.”

He reached for her, as if to pull her back into bed with him, but she stepped away before he could.

If he touched her, she wasn’t sure if she could maintain her lighthearted manner.

She didn’t feel lighthearted right now. It made her sad, this sense of suspicion, this distance she now wanted to put between her and Luke.

He rolled out of bed, naked and magnificent. When he bent to pull on his boxers, the long line of his back and the flex of his muscles made her catch her breath with desire.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a little nervous that he was going to come after her, or stop her from leaving.

“The crimes are piling up around here. Got to get to work.” He walked around the bed toward her.

She ought to move, to step back, but her feet seemed to be rooted to the floor.

Oh, how she wanted him to be everything he seemed—caring, strong, kind, protective.

And oh, how she feared that in the end, he’d protect his family, the Carmichaels.

“Please be safe,” he said quietly, when he reached her. “Call on me for anything, at any time.”

“I will.”

But would she? Right now, she wasn’t sure.

Outside, a light mist still hovered in the trees around his place, with the sun just breaking through the clouds. Could a McPhee and a Carmichael ever work out?

Don’t think that way! She reminded herself as she hurried across his lawn. You’re not your family name, and neither is he . He’s proven himself over and over.

But right now, his family connection meant he had a huge conflict of interest and she had to acknowledge that.