Chapter 54
FIFTY-FOUR
T he day of Charlie’s funeral dawned gray and damp. The early nineteenth-century church was packed full of locals and his extended family who had come to say goodbye. Several uncorrupted city officials attended as well, including the mayor.
The mood was intensely somber, and it was more than grief.
One of their own was dead. Xanthe and Blaine had nearly died with him. And two more trusted community members elected by the local citizens were facing jail time for corruption.
Whalebone Cove was reeling this morning, the news spreading across the island as soon as the story broke online. It had started circulating even before that among the locals. That was to be expected given this small, tight-knit community.
Blaine sat next to her in the back far corner of the church, his arm around her for comfort and protection. Allistair and Samantha were on the other side of the aisle, a few pews up.
Xanthe would gladly have skipped the service and reception, but she’d had to come here to pay her respects to Charlie and show support for his widow and their two young children.
The scene was heartbreaking. Naya sat rigidly in the front pew dressed all in black, her step kids on either side of her, aged seven and nine.
When the service was over, Xanthe and Blaine left immediately and drove to Naya and Charlie’s house for the reception.
“We’ll give our condolences, stay for long enough to be polite, then we’re outta there,” Blaine said as he followed the line of cars up the hill leading out of town.
Thank you. She was still trying to process what they’d been through. Wanted to escape all of this. The stares. The whispers. The questions from well-meaning but curious islanders.
She needed more time alone with Blaine. His house gave them the privacy she craved.
Turned out, survivor’s guilt was real—and a bitch. She grappled with why she was alive and Charlie was dead, leaving behind his wife and family.
Xanthe stayed close to Blaine and Allistair inside the kitchen where a mountain of food had been laid out across the table and countertops. Willow and Tripp arrived with Mae, who Xanthe was surprised to see using a cane. Like Mae said, aging sucked.
“Hi, sweetie. How you holding up?” Mae asked her.
“I’m doing okay,” she said, keeping her voice down. “Blaine’s been a huge help.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Have you found out anything else about the investigation yet?”
“Not much.” Tripp and Willow moved closer to hear her. “Just that the initial report says it was likely mechanical.” She cleared her throat. “Potentially sabotage.”
Mae’s gray eyebrows shot up. “ Sabotage ?”
Xanthe winced as several people looked over at them sharply. She could see the curiosity on their faces. “Yes. They said it’s a possibility. We’ll know more once they finish their report on the wreckage. Or we may never know what happened.”
Xanthe caught Samantha’s eye. Samantha immediately turned away and headed for the door. Her abrupt dismissal in the face of everything that had happened was like a slap in the face.
Enough was enough. Xanthe was done with all this petty office bullshit. Personal feelings aside, they had to work together.
“Excuse me,” she said to the others, and followed her.
“Hey.” Samantha didn’t stop. Xanthe stalked after her, followed her out onto the street. “Sam. Sam .”
Samantha stopped with her back to her, spine rigid. “What?” Her tone was clipped. Angry.
“Can we please not do this? And not here. It’s ridiculously childish, especially since Charlie’s gone and I almost died with him. Whatever it is I’ve done to make you mad, just tell me.”
“Leave me alone.” She walked off.
Nuh-uh. Xanthe hurried after her, grabbed her by the upper arm and spun her around to face her.
Samantha gasped and snatched her arm free, eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t touch me.”
Xanthe put her hands on her hips and held her ground. “What is your problem? You’ve been a complete bitch to me for more than a week now.”
Samantha’s face tightened. Resentment pulsing off her in toxic waves. “And?”
Xanthe was bewildered. “This is stupid. If you’ve got something to say to me, say it. We’re adults. More importantly, we’re coworkers and teammates?—”
“Teammates?” Samantha gave a brittle, humorless laugh that sent a chill down Xanthe’s spine. It had an unhinged edge to it. “Yeah, right. I mean, we used to be, before you decided to switch teams partway through the season.”
A trickle of unease slid through her. She’d never thought Samantha was unstable or mentally ill. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She nailed Xanthe with a look of pure disgust. “You’re literally sleeping with the enemy.”
Oh, hell no. “My relationship with Blaine has no bearing on my work or?—”
“It has everything to do with everything ,” Samantha spat. “He and his rich buddies ripped the heart out of our research project, they’re about to evict us from our research station which will cause our funding to be pulled, and yet now you’re fucking him.”
Whoa. “I?—”
“You’re such a fucking hypocrite, you disgust me.
You talk a big game, act like you have all these lofty principles and like you give a shit about the ecosystem here while you get all the media attention to boost your reach and reputation.
But in reality, you don’t give a shit about any of that or what happens to the rest of us.
You’re only looking out for yourself, hooking up with a rich prick to make sure you’ll be comfortable when the rest of us are evicted and looking for research jobs off Skelly.
You’re nothing but a fucking gold-digging sellout . ”
Xanthe took a deep breath. While she understood some of Samantha’s reasoning, the level of rage and resentment shocked Xanthe speechless for a moment. She’d never dreamed Samantha could hate her so much.
Suspicion threaded its way into her gut.
How deep did the hatred go? Enough to terrorize her? “Was it you?”
Samantha’s face went blank. “Was what me?” she said in annoyance.
“Did you leave that note on my windshield the night of the strandings? Throw that rock with another one through my window?”
She didn’t answer, but the angry flush on her face, the anger in her eyes and the lack of denial were evidence enough.
Oh my God… “Did you start the fire in my cabin?” she demanded, pulse racing.
Samantha snorted in disgust. “Please. That was Don. I literally showed you the fucking security footage.”
“Yeah, but you’re also one of three people who have access to the cameras and know exactly where they’re positioned. You could have turned them off easily enough to cover your tracks.”
“It was Don,” she said in a low, savage voice. “You think I’d be that stupid if I wanted to kill you? Sloppy enough to get caught on camera? Please.”
Xanthe caught her breath as it hit her. No. Samantha wasn’t stupid. She was easily twice as intelligent as Don had been.
The suspect down at the dock had kept away from the cameras, as if they’d known where they were mounted. Earl had reported passing Don on the way to the dock that night.
Because he’d never been on the dock at all.
Her heart rate accelerated, cold fingers of fear crawling up her spine. “Where were you the night before the crash?”
Samantha’s expression went eerily blank for a moment, but Xanthe caught the flicker of unease in her eyes. “At home.”
She needed to get Blaine down here. And Rafe. Now. “Can anyone verify that?”
“Fuck you,” she snarled, and whirled to flee.
No. “ Stop !” Xanthe commanded, lunging forward to grab her shoulder.
Samantha ripped free and gave her a scathing look, but the lick of panic in her eyes made Xanthe’s scalp tingle.
She’d done it. This traitorous bitch had done something to their plane. “You stay right where you are until Rafe gets here.” She pulled out her phone, started to dial him.
Samantha snatched the phone out of her hand and bolted.
“Hey!” Xanthe chased after her. She ran hard, refusing to let her get away. From this, and what she’d done. Fuck her.
Two steps from catching up to her, Samantha suddenly stopped and whipped around.
Xanthe jerked back when she saw the knife protruding from the woman’s fist. A switchblade, the silvery metal glinting with a lethal gleam in the afternoon light.
“Don’t push me,” Samantha snarled between bared teeth. “I’ll do it. I swear to God.”
Xanthe jerked back a step, raised her hands, palms out. She was crazy. “Put it down.”
“No.” She narrowed her eyes, shook her head. “Your fake, gold-digging ass and your fuck-toy boyfriend should’ve died in that crash, not Charlie.” Her voice wobbled, tears filling her eyes.
Got you. The thought was loud through the roar of fear in her head. “So it was you. Did Don tell you to do it? Did he pay you to do it?”
“I would’ve happily done it for free ,” Samantha snarled—and lunged at her with the blade.
Xanthe jerked away, twisting at the last moment. “Blaine!” She screamed it with every ounce of strength she had.
Samantha lunged at her again, trying to stab her in the gut.
Xanthe twisted sideways. Turned to run as Samantha came after her.
She heard running footsteps behind her. Caught a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye as someone leaped past her.
Blaine slammed into Samantha’s small frame like a linebacker, tackling her to the ground with a thud. He caught the wrist of her knife hand in one fist, pinned it to the ground beside her head as he immobilized her with his weight.
Samantha gave an enraged screech and thrashed beneath him, teeth bared, face red.
“Drop it.” Blaine increased the pressure on her wrist until she dropped the knife. He knocked it away before Xanthe could get close enough to kick it to the side, then seized both of Samantha’s wrists and immobilized them over her head.
“Let me go! You motherf ucke r, let me go!”
Blaine looked up at her. “What the hell’s going on?”
“It was her,” Xanthe gasped out, her knees starting to wobble as more pounding footsteps registered behind her. Holy shit. Oh, holy shit, that had been insane and way too close. “She left the threatening notes, and she sabotaged the plane.”
Rafe stopped beside them, Tripp and Lachlan right behind him.
“You heard that?” Blaine said to Rafe in a hard voice.
“Enough of it, over Xanthe’s phone.”
What? She glanced down, saw her phone lying on the ground, the call still open.
Rafe reached down, hauled Samantha upright as he took the cuffs from his belt. “Samantha Ingram, I’m arresting you on suspicion of first-degree murder and attempted murder…”
Samantha stood rigid, glaring at the circle of people gathering around them as Rafe continued to read her rights while he marched her back to the road.
Xanthe rushed over to Blaine, grabbed him and pulled him close. “Thank you.” If he’d shown up even five seconds later, she would have been seriously wounded. Or dying right now.
Blaine hugged her tight. “She confessed?”
“More or less.” Even if the call evidence wasn’t enough, Xanthe didn’t see Samantha being able to hold out under police interrogation.
“Was Don in on it?”
“Yes. He paid her.” She was thankful he was holding her upright. He was the only thing keeping her standing.
“Why would she do it?” He sounded bewildered. “And how?”
“Resentment over you and me. And…I don’t know how.”
He heaved a sigh. Pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You okay? She didn’t hurt you?”
“No, thanks to you. But can I ask another favor?”
“Anything.”
“Take me home.”