Chapter 23
Up until now, Barnaby had never had reason to visit anyone in jail. Now, in the space of a couple of days, he’d done it with his grandmother and now his brother.
Half-brother. He kept holding onto that fact like a lifeline. He still hadn’t wrapped his head around the reality that Carson had turned out to be a cold-blooded criminal. A sociopath wrapped in money and swaddled in privilege.
The privilege came into view as soon as he walked into the Harbortown Correctional Center and learned his brother was being held with minimal security and treated with plenty of respect by the guards.
Carson still had access to his own personal funds, and was probably using them to ensure his comfort while he waited for the trial to start, or for his lawyers to work out some kind of plea deal.
Barnaby expected something along those lines. As a Carmichael, he was hoping for it, since that would mean less publicity. As Barnaby, he wished Carson would have to pay for what he’d done, and that the experience would change him into a better man.
Accountability. Was that too much to ask?
But one look at Carson’s sullen face on the other side of the plastic partition told him that accountability was a long ways off. Carson had always been, and would always be, concerned only about himself.
“Are you here to gloat because you’re in charge now?” he asked.
Not even a hello. Straight to hostility. “You left me a fucking mess to deal with, so no.”
“Getting me out of here better be at the top of that to-do list.”
“I have nothing to do with that. The lawyers are handling your case, I’m staying out of it. The top priority is salvaging the Lightkeeper name which you just about destroyed.” You greedy prick, he wanted to add.
He and Carson had never gotten along. Looking back, the beginnings of a sociopath had been there from the start. Like the time Carson had tossed Barnaby’s new puppy into the ocean and claimed he was teaching her to swim. Poor Bluebell had been scared of water for the rest of her life.
When Barnaby had experienced a growth spurt that sent him towering over Carson, his brother had shifted into nastiness overdrive.
He’d even spread a rumor at school that Barnaby was gay.
Barnaby hadn’t been able to figure out why guys kept coming onto him.
The only silver lining was that he’d made some new friends.
Safe to say, he didn’t trust his brother one tiny little bit. Even locked up, he was probably dangerous.
“If you’re not here to help, don’t waste my time.” Carson started to his feet.
“I didn’t say that.” He’d thought hard about how to handle this interaction.
He needed actual truth from Carson, which wasn’t something his brother would give up willingly.
Which meant he had to offer something in exchange.
“Our legal team has a lot on their plate these days. I came to tell you that we’re considering shifting resources around. ”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” That got his brother’s attention.
“We might put Raul Garcia on a different matter.” Garcia was the best lawyer on the team and everyone knew it. “Thought you might want to know.”
Carson’s blue eyes turned so icy-hot, they could cut through a glacier. “Fix it, Barnaby.”
“I can try, but…” He shrugged.
“What do you want? You’re threatening me, so you must be here to make some kind of deal.”
Yup, he’d judged Carson correctly. Everything was a negotiation to him, until he wasn’t able to get what he wanted. Then he just took it.
“I want an honest answer.”
“To what? Whether I killed that old dude?”
“No. I know the answer to that. Are you still paying people on the island to do shit for you?”
A lightning flash of astonishment crossed Carson’s face. Was that because he wasn’t, or was, and was surprised Barnaby knew? “Like what?”
“Like anything. Eyes and ears, that sort of thing.”
Carson sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “That’s all you want to know?”
“Yes. If you are paying someone, I want to know exactly what they’re doing for you. A full accounting. Anything less, you get the junior associate instead of Garcia representing you.”
Carson’s mouth twisted this way and that, a nervous habit he’d had forever.
The sight gave Barnaby a pang. He’d been born into so much wealth and opportunity.
Was it his fear of losing all that, losing status, losing control over the Carmichael millions, that had brought him to this jail?
And if Barnaby hadn’t found a grounding influence in Tamara, would he have headed down that very same road?
“There’s someone at the inn,” he finally admitted. “He gets me updates. That’s it.”
Barnaby held his tongue; he could tell there was more.
“I’m also still in contact with Amy Lou Westbrook,” Carson continued in a lower voice. Amy Lou was facing arson charges, and was planning to testify against Carson as a way to improve her own situation. Any lawyer would warn him to avoid her.
“Is that a good idea?”
“Hey, she reached out to me. She’s worried about me, wants to make sure I’m okay in jail. She feels bad for me, as she should. I might not be in here without her.”
“Incorrect, and you know it.”
Why he felt the need to come to Amy Lou’s defense, he had no idea. She’d made her own bed by conspiring with Carson. “What does Amy Lou tell you? She’s out on bail, right?”
“She keeps her ear to the ground,” Carson said vaguely. “All the gossip comes her way sooner or later.”
“Gossip about what?”
“Look, forget Amy Lou. She’s not important.”
“Gossip about what?” he repeated.
“The Sea Smoke Fund, okay?” Carson spat out. “That’s all I care about. She knows what those idiots are finding, the ones looking for descendants. I need to know what’s happening because that affects my future net worth. Yours too, but you’re too full of yourself to care about that.”
Barnaby let the insult fly past him without comment. “So that’s it? She relays whatever she hears about the Fund? Are you insane?”
Carson blinked, a flash of deep blue against his pale skin. “What do you mean?”
“If anything happens to anyone they locate, it could get traced back to you. There you go, hot tip to keep you out of even more trouble.” He pushed back his chair.
“So you’ll fix the situation with the lawyers?”
Barnaby scrutinized his brother. “Did you tell me everything? If I check with the guards, will they mention someone else who came to see you, or called?”
“That’s everything. Except Dad came, I forgot about that. Judy Griffin brought him. Interrogate her if you think she told me anything besides what a fuckup I am.”
“How about Annabeth? Has she come to see you?”
“Annabeth?” He said his mother’s name as if he’d forgotten it. “No, why would she? It’s a long trip from fucking Argentina. She called. She said she’s praying for me. Little late for that.”
For the first time, Barnaby felt some sympathy for Carson. He’d been Annabeth’s spoiled firstborn, until their father had had an affair, divorced Annabeth, and claimed full custody by buying her off with that ranch in Argentina.
“Sorry, man,” he muttered.
“Little bro, little bro. Like I care about her. You ever wonder why Dad sent her so far away?”
“He probably didn’t want her making trouble for Diane. Do you know another reason?”
“Maybe. I guess you’ll never know unless you get me out of here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I guess you’ll never know unless you get me out of here,” he repeated.
Okay then. That was enough Carson for one day, thought Barnaby. He might punch his smirking brother right through that Plexiglass divider if he spent any more time here.
After leaving the correctional center, Barnaby decided not to call an Uber but instead walk for a few miles to shake off the horrible feeling of that conversation.
Maybe his brother could change and become a better person, but right now it was hard to see that happening.
And there sure as hell wasn’t anything he could do to make it happen.
In this dark mood, he needed…something.
He needed Gabby.
He pulled out his phone and texted her. Don’t think it was Carson.
A moment later, his phone rang. “Are you okay?” Gabby asked.
Along with the sound of her voice came a flood of light into his heart. “More or less.”
“Was it hard, seeing him in jail?”
He was walking down a random street in a neighborhood he’d never been to before, kicking at cracks in the sidewalk and second-guessing everything about himself. Definitely hard. “Yeah. Harder than I thought.” He went on, reluctantly. “Made me think about what I could have done to head this off.”
“That doesn’t sound like something a younger brother could even do.”
“Probably not. Maybe if I’d stayed on the island longer, or introduced him to Tamara, or…” He trailed off, because saying those things out loud made him see how unlikely they were.
What would Carson have thought of Tamara? Nothing. He would have laughed at her funny little cottage and her piles of herbs.
“Anyway, he does still have his greedy fingers in a few island pots, but I don’t think he was spying on Tamara. How are things on your end?”
She picked up his desire to change the subject, and shifted gears seamlessly. “Good. I talked to Buzzy and found out that he didn’t receive any treatment from Tamara. He met with her, but she wouldn’t give him anything because he’s on beta blockers.”
His spirits lifted. This seemed significant. “Did you tell Luke and the other cops?”
“I’m on my way there now. In your truck. Shifting gears like a pro.” She gunned the engine to prove it. Already his mood was improving so much, after just a few moments of talking to her. “But here’s my theory. Whoever was spying on her saw Buzzy and assumed that he was getting treatment from her.”
“And poisoned Buzzy himself.” He finished the thought for her.
“Exactly. They knew that Tamara would get the blame.”
“So someone is trying to frame Tamara for murder.” He’d hoped that Tamara had come under suspicion because she was the island’s only herbalist. But now it seemed clear that someone was orchestrating this.
But why? Was it just to deflect from the actual killer, or was Tamara being targeted for a reason?
“Sure looks like it,” Gabby was saying. “But I don’t know why, or who, of course. Also, how did this person get the poison into Buzzy’s system, whether it was castor bean or anything else?”
“Buzzy does spend a lot of time at the Clambake Grill and everyone knows it. Wouldn’t be too hard.”
“So the suspect list would be the entire island. Everyone knows Buzzy.” Her laugh made his mood brighten even further. “I’m going to talk to Andy Highgrove next. Maybe there’s some common thread we can track down. He owes me ever since he trapped me on that yacht.”
“Want me to talk to Safiya? She’s still in Harbortown, right?”
“Yes, but are you sure she’ll be open with you? You were her boss. You probably intimidate her.”
“Me? Nah. I’ll aim for gentle cuddly giant instead of nasty ogre. Besides, I did help her when she got sick.”
“That’s true. Anyway, you could never be a nasty ogre, but I’m not sure you can pull off cuddly giant either.”
“You’ll see.” He lowered his voice to a sexy growl. “Give me one chance to prove it.”
“Maybe I will,” she teased. “I just had a thought. What if I come into town and we interview Safiya together? I know her pretty well and she’s comfortable with me.”
He loved the idea of connecting with Gabby in a different environment, away from the island. “We can grab dinner before we head back.”
“Like a date?”
“Very much like a date.”
“Okay then. I accept.”
“What boat will you take? I’ll pick you up.”
After they’d made all the arrangements, he finally opened his app and called a ride. In that short time, the world had transformed from bleak and despairing over his brother to bright and full of hope.
Magic.