Page 8 of Light of Day (Sea Smoke Island #1)

After he dropped Heather back at her house, Luke called Carrie. He’d planned to take Izzy out for ice cream tonight, but with a woman missing, he needed to reschedule.

“She’ll be disappointed,” Carrie warned.

He heard raucous voices in the background, and remembered it was Frank’s whisky-and-poker night.

Frank was Carrie’s boyfriend, an import from Bailey Island, and not someone Luke cared for much.

But he seemed to make Carrie happy, so he kept his opinions to himself.

“I know. Can you put her on?”

He explained the situation to Izzy, who accepted it with a maturity that made him proud, especially considering she’d just turned six. “I hope you find her, Daddy. Do you think she’s dead?”

“I sure hope not. I’m counting on finding her alive and well and wondering what all the fuss was about.”

“She should have told someone where she was going,” Izzy said wisely. “Like I always do.”

“Yup. She could learn a thing or two from you.”

Sea Smoke Island was the kind of place where kids tended to roam free, on bikes or in packs, only returning home when it got dark. But Izzy was still too young for that. He predicted a lot more anxious nights in his future. “We’ll go to Sea Scoops as soon as we can, okay?”

“But what if you didn’t find her yet?”

“Then I’ll probably need a break from all my hard work. We’re getting that ice cream soon, sweetheart. Come what may.”

It was too late to visit the historical society and follow up on Gabby’s appearance at their meeting.

But that would be his first stop in the morning, with the added bonus of showing Amy Lou the button he’d found.

He felt sure it was a genuine historical artifact, maybe lost by one of last century’s wealthy guests of the Lightkeeper Inn.

Although why would it have washed up on Shell Beach?

That was the farthest opposite end of the island.

As he drove toward the south beach road, where Denton Simms lived, he thought about what Izzy had said. From what he’d learned about Gabby so far, she was very intelligent and aware of potential risks. Would she have climbed on the rocks alone, without notifying anyone of where she was going?

Unlikely.

During his constable training, he’d only taken one course in investigative techniques. The rest of his knowledge came from TV. In other words, it was probably useless. Should he call in the real professionals?

He weighed the pros and cons. Even if he reached out to the Harbortown PD, it would take them time to send someone out. They had enough work on their hands dealing with a recent carjacking spree. And they didn’t know the island the way he did.

His phone buzzed, and he put it on speaker so he could talk while driving. “Luke Carmichael.”

“We have a situation.” It was Alan Bard, who ran the Clambake Grill, the best place for lobster rolls on the island.

“Some teenagers came out from the mainland for their graduation party, and now they’re throwing water balloons at my customers.

I’ve done my best, but I need someone with authority out there. ”

“Be right there.”

He swung the wheel and headed in the direction of the west dock.

The sun was setting, shadows collecting in the woods alongside the road, the sky shifting deeper into indigo blue.

As he drove, he rummaged in his glove compartment for his badge.

He also told Siri to call Marigold. Backup might be helpful in this situation.

“Right this minute?” she asked breathlessly. “Kind of in the middle of something.”

“I’m on my way there now. Want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’m already down that way. I’ll probably beat you there. See you in a jiff.”

Her resigned tone made sense as soon as he caught sight of her.

Marigold was hard to miss in most circumstances, seeing as she was nearly six feet tall and as statuesque as her Norwegian ancestors.

If any flower name suited her, it would probably be Sunflower, but that wasn’t the direction her parents had chosen.

In this moment, Marigold was even easier to spot because a wedding veil fluttered from the crown of her head, whipping in the wind as she plucked a Super Soaker from a boy’s hand.

The Clambake Grill’s open deck, cantilevered over the seaweed-draped rocks below, was crowded with girls in prom-style dresses and boys in suits—along with some drenched and angry customers.

A melee in the making.

As his truck approached, Luke activated the siren he kept on standby. It was impressive how that sound could focus people’s attention. The crowd shifted from rowdy to alert as he brought the truck to a stop in a rooster tail of gravel.

Holding up his badge, he strode up the wooden steps. “What the hell is going on here,” he roared.

He’d worked hard on that Voice of Authority. In fact, he’d studied his father in order to get the exact right “ruler of the world” tone.

“You.” He gestured to a kid holding a water balloon, frozen in mid-toss. “What’s your name?”

The boy, panicking, tossed the balloon over his shoulder. It crashed onto the rocks below.

“Are you littering ?” Luke glowered at the young people. “We have endangered seals out here. You want them to choke on your shitty pranks?”

Since the high-schoolers were temporarily immobilized, Marigold went through the group, seizing their water pistols and Super Soakers. Her arms were bristling with plastic weaponry by the time she was done.

“We didn’t mean to cause trouble,” the boy with the water balloons muttered.

“Yeah, they did.” Alan pushed through the crowd. “Now I gotta comp all these guests who got a shower they didn’t ask for. Someone has to pay for that.”

It took the rest of the evening for Luke and Marigold to sort out the situation. As they walked down the steps, lit by a sensor light and a waxing moon, Luke looked inquiringly at her veil. “Were you at a fitting?”

“Hair rehearsal. Cheryl’s nervous because she doesn’t do a lot of wedding hair. But look.” She violently shook her head back and forth. “Everything stayed in place, even those freaky little daisies she pinned in there. Trial by fire.”

“If it can survive a brawl, it can survive a wedding,” he agreed with a grin.

“But not the wedding night, if ya know what I mean.” She put up her hand for a high-five. “You’re coming, right?”

“Of course.”

“Because you haven’t RSVPed. You’re messing with our head count. My mom is fretting.”

“Sorry. I’m still debating the plus-one part.”

“Oh God. Don’t tell me you’re bringing Abby?”

He and Abby were currently in the off phase of an on-again, off-again relationship. Neither one seemed interested in changing that. “No. Maybe my sister? She’s on the island.”

Marigold made a face. “Sorry, I have a one-Carmichael limit.”

He burst out laughing. Marigold was the best. She never pulled her punches and always said what she thought. “Understandable.”

The thought of inviting Heather McPhee flashed through his mind. He’d enjoyed their journey around the island today. He wouldn’t mind spending more time with her. Of course, she’d probably be gone by the time of Marigold’s wedding, still two weeks away.

“What do you know about Heather McPhee?” he asked Marigold on impulse.

“Heather? Well…” They paused next to Marigold’s red Toyota truck. “I’d say she’s…”

While she thought of the right word, Luke filled in the blanks in his head. Smart? Sexy? A good friend?

“A survivor,” she finally said.

“How do you mean?”

“Her parents are a mess. Did you know her father kidnapped her once and took her to Portland? Then he went off drinking and left her alone. She was like, nine, I think? When he didn’t come back after a day, she made her own way back to the island. She didn’t have a phone or any money.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Yah. She got a scholarship to Boston U. I think she got into Vassar, too, but she couldn’t afford it.

That family has no money at all. Long line of drunks, especially on her mother’s side.

The McPhees have been here since the beginning, they’re one of the original homesteading families here.

You’d think they’d have more to show for it, but they don’t.

I’m happy for Heather that she broke free and is doing her own thing.

I guess she’s kind of like you in that way. ” She cocked her head at him.

“How so?”

“A cycle breaker. But in opposite directions, I suppose. She’s going towards the money, you went away from it.” Laughing, she clapped him on the back.

“Ha ha,” he scoffed. “I’m not avoiding money, just all the strings my father attaches to his.”

“Not my business.” She held up her hands in a surrender gesture, then climbed into her truck. “I stay far away from Carmichael drama.”

“Same.”

She laughed and reached for the door handle.

“Before you go, has anyone called in about a missing woman, or anything unusual at all? A hotel guest has disappeared.”

“I haven’t gotten any calls like that. I would have told you.

Let’s see…stolen bike, I wrote that one up.

” She ticked off items on her fingers. “A break-in at the Norton cottage, but the only thing missing was a case of refried beans, and they weren’t entirely sure about that.

An unauthorized party in the south woods, kids setting off firecrackers. ”

“The south woods?” That caught his interest, since the south woods were on the way to the shell beach.

“Yeah, I got some complaints about the noise. People thought it might be gunshots, but when I went out there, I just found the MacIntyre brothers and their friends playing with firecrackers. They got a stern lecture, Marigold-style.”

“Scared straight, no doubt.”

“You betcha.”

They parted ways, and Luke decided that it wasn’t too late to swing by Denton Simms’ house. Denton liked to stay up and watch the late news because he had a very public crush on one of the local weathercasters. If his lights were off, Luke would simply go home.

“Local policing at its finest,” Luke murmured to himself. How many real police officers knew their community members’ habits the way he did?

Denton Simms lived in one of the oldest houses on the island, a single-story cedar-sided classic nestled near a popular swimming cove called Simms Cove, though people usually just called it “Swim Cove.” The house had a brick chimney and white gingerbread trim along the roof of the wraparound porch.

A wind sock shaped like a bluefish fluttered from the flagpole out front, and two weathered Adirondack chairs faced the cove.

On the days he didn’t fish, Denton held court from those chairs, telling stories from his days of harpoon fishing for bluefin tuna.

Luke parked up on the road and walked down the trail to the cove.

From there, he crossed a grassy lawn maintained by the Island Trust. This entire cove and its surroundings, all the way to the edge of Denton’s property, had been acquired by the trust to keep the cove accessible to the community.

He’d heard that Denton had received an offer for his house as well; it would make a great location for a museum.

Word had it that Denton was considering it.

The porch light was on, so Luke knocked on the door. When he got no answer, he walked around the porch to peer in the window. None of the interior lights were on, and he caught no blue flicker from Denton’s giant HDTV flat-screen.

Damn it. He’d have to come back first thing tomorrow.

As he strode back up the hill toward his truck, he caught movement in the sumac bushes to his right. “Hello?” he called. “Denton, is that you?”

The rustling stopped. Maybe it was just a night bird, or an animal. Ignoring the shiver down his spine, he hurried onwards.