Page 151 of The High Tide Club
“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.
