Chapter 21
“I suppose there’s no chance that belongs to Tamara?” Gabby said slowly.
Barnaby found the sudden shift from that wild lustful rush to the cold reality of a hidden camera disorienting. “No fucking way. She barely knows how to use her phone camera. Someone else put this here.”
They both stared at the tiny camera, which reminded him of a miniature mechanical eyeball.
“So someone’s been spying on Tamara. Why?” Gabby’s face was still flushed, her lips swollen from their kiss. But her tone of voice was one hundred percent journalist.
“Very good question.” He turned in a circle, scanning the rest of the kitchen cabinets. “This might not be the only one.”
“Oh shit. You’re right.” Gabby hugged her arms around herself and shivered. “Do you think someone saw us…you know…”
“Hey, we kept our clothes on. We’re good.” He tucked the camera in his pocket and climbed back onto the stair step to search for more little spy devices.
“Maybe I should have flashed that nosy bastard, whoever it is,” she said. “Dirty rotten nosy bastard.”
“It’s not too late.”
“Ha ha.”
He knew she was joking to steady herself, to regain a sense of control. He got it. A spy camera was a terrible invasion, especially in a place like Tamara’s little haven from the outside world.
They spent the next couple of hours searching the old cottage, and found three more cameras identical to that first one.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more that we just haven’t found yet.” He dumped his haul onto the work table, which was covered with baggies filled with herbs. No wonder the house smelled so good right now—lavender and rosemary and elecampane. “I don’t think you should stay here tonight.”
“But I promised Tamara.”
“She didn’t know she was being spied on. She’d never ask that of you. Come on, let me take you back to the Lightkeeper.”
But Gabby surprised him. “No. I can’t break my promise to Tamara. She might never trust me again. Besides, cameras need light. I won’t get into bed until I’ve blocked all the lights in the room. Or I’ll sleep in my clothes. It’ll be fine.”
He clenched his back teeth, noting her stubbornness, respecting it, but really hating the thought of her sleeping around spy cameras.
“Think about this, Gabby. We don’t know who put these cameras here or why.
But whoever it is probably knows that they’ve been busted.
They might decide to come here and collect their shit. ”
He gestured at the cameras, which stared every which way in their little eyeball pile.
Gabby sank into the armchair and stretched out her legs. She’d taken off her shoes during their search, and put on a pair of indoor slippers. At least she’d come prepared for her stay at Tamara’s. Her feet were just as long and elegant as the rest of her.
“I’ll make sure the doors are locked. Tamara said I shouldn’t be worried about intruders because of the owl. Apparently he’s an excellent guardian. And if the owl is off hunting mice or something, there’s always the possum. She says he’s quite unfriendly to strangers.”
Barnaby rolled his neck. All this searching and worrying was getting to him, plus there was some lingering sexual frustration in there too. He checked the time. Two o’clock in the morning. Maybe she was safe to stay tonight, since it was so late already. But only if…
“If you’re staying, I’m staying,” he said firmly.
A tired smile touched her lips. “I’m probably supposed to argue with that, but I’d be happy if you stayed. Nothing against the possum, but an actual human protector sounds good to me.”
“Great. I’m better than a possum. I’ll take that compliment to my grave,” he said dryly. “It’s settled then.” Now for the dicey part. “You can have the bedroom. I’ll sleep out here on this couch. It’s where I usually stay when I’m here.”
She didn’t argue with that either, which, he had to admit, disappointed him a little.
Then again, would they get any sleep if they were in a bed together? Chances were zero.
“Well, good night then,” she said, in a very formal manner that he took to mean, ‘let’s pretend that hot kiss never happened.’
“Good night. Give a shout if you need—if anything bad happens.”
While Gabby settled into the bedroom, he unearthed his pillow and bedroll from the leather trunk Tamara kept them in.
He stretched out on the couch, which seemed to get shorter every time he slept on it.
Was it more uncomfortable too? Or was it just hard to sleep listening to the sounds of Gabby moving about?
He punched the pillow a few times, thought about finger-brushing his teeth, then stared up at the ceiling.
The rain had subsided to a soft patter on the roof.
Who the hell would want to spy on Tamara Brown? Was it the Harbortown police?
He ruled that out immediately. Planting spy cameras didn’t fall into any approved police procedure he’d ever heard about. Just to be sure, he could check with Luke first thing in the morning.
To his knowledge, the only other people interested in Tamara were Gabby herself, and Heather.
The Dirty Rotten Bastards co-hosts. Gabby obviously hadn’t put those cameras there—if she had, why would she have pointed one out?
Would Heather do it without Gabby’s knowledge?
That seemed very unlikely too. They were journalists, not spies, and they worked together.
Since this was Sea Smoke Island, should he look at his own family? Were the Carmichaels behind this? Tamara was connected to Sasha, the one “descendant” who had come forward. Maybe someone was trying to sabotage the effort to track down the survivors?
But Tamara’s side of the Thatcher/Brown family hadn’t been chased off the island like the others. She wouldn’t be included in the restitution fund.
Besides…Barnaby was the Carmichaels. He was the one in charge, the one everyone reported to. Unless someone was making trouble behind his back?
The cameras could have been there for a while, since before the story about the evictions had been exposed. What if his father had put them there to keep tabs on his former lover Sophie’s mother.
He doubted it, simply because the cameras had all been relatively dust-free. If they had been there for a long time, they would have been coated in dust, especially since Tamara was getting too old to clean the tops of her cupboards regularly.
So the cameras were relatively new, which ruled out his dementia-battling father.
His thoughts moved to the rest of his family.
When Carson had been trying to sabotage the eviction investigation, he’d hired hotel workers to do some of his dirty work.
Had he paid someone to install those cameras? From behind bars? But why?
Did he even know about Tamara?
It was hard to know when it came to Carson, who’d turned out to be a real sociopath.
Fiona? What reason would she have? Did she know Tamara? Maybe he needed to pay both his siblings a visit at their respective jails, something he hadn’t done since they’d been arrested.
What about Celine? No, he decided after some thought. She had never set foot on the western end of the island; in her world, it might as well not exist.
Rufus and Ruby were obviously not involved, since they were in college and uninterested in family drama.
Both had internships this summer. Was there anyone he was forgetting?
His father’s ex-wives? Annabeth was somewhere in Argentina.
Luke’s mother, Diane, had lived in California since their divorce.
Rufus and Ruby’s mother, Kiki, had moved to England.
The Carmichael ex-wife diaspora. If any of them had been seen on the island, it would have been a bombshell.
Maybe Judy Griffin, the manager? Nah.
Wow, could he actually rule out the Carmichaels in this particular nasty incident? God, he hoped so. He didn’t want any more shame attached to the family name. But lately, his family members had been making that damn difficult.
The next morning, after a restless night’s sleep, Barnaby suggested that they report their discovery of the cameras to Luke. Gabby agreed, yawning as she made coffee in Tamara’s ancient espresso pot. Apparently she hadn’t gotten much sleep either.
The rain had finally stopped, leaving glittering sparkles scattered across the mossy ground. The leaves of the birch trees shimmered with moisture. With the sun rising fast, they would dry off soon, so he took a moment to absorb the green radiance outside the window.
Barnaby gathered up the supplies Tamara had requested, and they drove in silence to the constable’s station. Luke met them at the door and beckoned them into the break room.
“The Harbortown guys are interviewing Tamara again.”
“They shouldn’t—” Barnaby began.
“Don’t worry, the Carmichael lawyers are here. I made sure of it.”
But Tamara had wanted him, her champion. He felt Gabby squeeze his hand, both in comfort and to keep the focus on the point of this meeting.
She was right. There was nothing to be done about it now. He set aside his protests and showed Luke the hidden cameras they’d discovered.
“Jesus. That’s a lot of cameras for a house the size of a kiddie pool.” Luke took the baggie they’d put the cameras into. “Were they activated?”
“One of them had a light, that’s how I spotted it. Maybe it was low on battery or something,” said Gabby. “But I suppose we don’t really know if they were actively recording.” The color rose in her cheeks. He surreptitiously bumped his arm against hers—a little reminder of the heat between them.
Even though they hadn’t spoken much this morning, that kiss and all that hot passionate desire hadn’t gone anywhere. He still felt every bit of it. He hoped she did too.
“All right. I’ll see what I can find out about these.” A frown wrinkled his forehead. “I’m going to have to tell the Harbortown crew about them. They could be connected to the investigation somehow.”
Barnaby glanced at Gabby, who shrugged, probably thinking the same thing he was. Now that they’d handed them over, there wasn’t much they could say about what happened next.
“I’m going to take a trip to the Harbortown Correctional Center today,” he told Luke. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Is this for family or business?”
“Just a few questions to see if Carson might be responsible for these.”
“Why would he be? Just general Carmichael shenanigans?”
Barnaby laughed. “Basically, yes. Maybe he knew Tamara was related to a branch of Sasha’s family, and wanted to keep an eye on her.”
“Well, you won’t get any answers if I’m there.” Luke smiled ruefully. “He hates me even more than he used to. You’d better go alone.”
Barnaby nodded, and handed over Tamara’s bag. “Will you give this to Tamara?”
“I’ll have to search it.”
“Search away. Nothing to hide.”
“Is there any chance we can see her?” Gabby asked. “Maybe later?”
Luke nodded. “I’ll shoot you a text when they’re done. I suppose you want to ask if she knows anything about those cameras?”
“Yes, unless you think it would upset her, Barnaby?” She turned to him as she posed the question.
“It might. That house is her sanctuary, and I’m sure it’ll hurt to think of someone sneaking in to spy on her. But it’s still better if she knows.”
Outside, the soggy ground sank under their feet. It had soaked up a lot of rain overnight. “If you drop me off at the dock, you can use this truck today,” he offered as he and Gabby swung into the cab. “I told the Lightkeeper I’d be using it for the next few days.”
“Would I pick you up when you get back?”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
“Okay, thanks. Heather’s bike that she used in middle school has its limits.”
He headed for the west dock. He could drive back to the east side and use one of the hotel’s speedboats, but sometimes he liked the ferry ride because it gave him time to think. This meeting with his brother was going to be a doozy.
“Can you drive a manual? This truck is old-school.”
“I…think so?”
He stopped the truck in the middle of the road. “Let’s switch places. You can learn as we go.”