Copper Beach: A Dark Legacy Novel (24 page)

“Doesn’t matter. I’m the one who asked her out on that first date at the gem-and-mineral show. I’m the one who introduced her to Frye. And I’m the one who continued to date her, even after she was hired.”

“I understand.”

Sam watched her for a long moment.

“Yes,” he said. “I can see that you do. You’re the only one who does. I’ll get some more coffee.”

He went to the counter and picked up the pot. He used his free
hand to toss a slice of cooled French toast in Newton’s general direction. Newton made an agile leap and snatched the toast out of midair.

Abby’s phone chimed. She picked it up and glanced at the unfamiliar number.

“I can’t imagine who this could be,” she said.

She stabbed the connect key.

“Yes?” she said.

“Abigail? Is that you?”

Orinda Strickland spoke in the same clipped, cold, supercilious manner that had frightened the thirteen-year-old Abby. Orinda was no less daunting now that she was in her eighties, but there was a faint rasp that betrayed her age and something else. It took Abby a few seconds to find the right word.
Panic.
It was Orinda who was terrified today, and trying desperately to conceal it.

Abby took a deep breath and silently repeated her mantra.
Show no weakness.

“Mrs. Strickland. What a surprise. I didn’t know you had this number.”

“I got it from Dawson.”

“I see. Did someone die?”

“That is not amusing.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. I just can’t imagine any other reason why you would want to get in touch with me.”

“Nonsense,” Orinda snapped. “You’re family. Why wouldn’t I want to keep in touch?”

“I knew it.” Abigail slumped against the back of her chair and contemplated the woods outside the window. Newton came to sit beside her. She put a hand on his head. “This is about Dawson and that investor he’s trying to land.”

“Dawson told me that he talked to you about finding some old book that he needs to close the deal. He said you refused to help him.”

“It’s not that simple, Mrs. Strickland.”

“Dawson said you won’t get the book for him because you still have issues about the past.”

“Well, sure, who doesn’t? But I repeat, it’s not that simple.”

“Abigail, you were a very troubled girl. We did what we felt was best for you and the family. You’re an adult now. I would have hoped that by this time you would have realized that we had no choice but to send you to that special school. You needed treatment.”

“Uh–huh.”

“Do you have any idea of how much it cost to send you to the Summer Hill Academy?”

“Summerlight.”

“What?” Orinda asked.

“The name of the school was the Summerlight Academy.”

“Well, you can’t expect me to remember the name of the school after all these years.”

“Gee, that’s funny,” Abby said. “I’ve never been able to forget it. And no, in answer to your question, I don’t know how much it cost you to dump me there.”

“We spent thousands on tuition, room and board and counseling. You should be grateful for all that we did for you.”

“Oh, I am,” Abby said politely. “Very grateful.”

She was aware of Sam watching her. He lounged against the counter, sipping coffee and listening to every word. Newton rested his head on her leg, offering silent comfort.

“The least you can do for the family is find that book for Dawson,” Orinda said. “He tells me it is absolutely critical to closing the deal with the investor.”

“Yes, he mentioned that. But you’re going to have to trust me when I tell you that the book is dangerous.”

“Nonsense. It’s just a book, not even a very old one at that. We’re not talking a medieval manuscript here. Evidently, the investor is obsessed
with finding this particular book, however, and has made it clear that it is the price of doing business.”

“A lot of people are searching for that same book, and at least one person has already been murdered because of it,” Abby said.

“I don’t believe that for a second. No one commits murder because of a forty-year-old book. You’re making up stories, just like you did when you were a girl. This is about the money, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Of course it is,” Orinda said. “You have always resented Dawson’s inheritance and the trust funds I established for the twins, even though I have explained that you have no right to that money because you have no biological connection to the Strickland line.”

“I remember that talk. I told you then, and I’m telling you now, I’m not interested in the Strickland money.”

“It’s always about the money,” Orinda shot back. Anger and conviction rang in her voice. “I would think that after all we’ve done for you, you would be willing to do this one small favor in return. If your sense of family obligation is so lacking, however, you have my word that you will be compensated for your efforts.”

Maybe it was the rare show of emotion or simply the rising panic in Orinda’s voice. Whatever the source, it triggered Abby’s intuition. She straightened in the chair and braced her elbows on the table.

“This is as close to groveling as I have ever known you to come, Mrs. Strickland.”

“I’m not groveling, you ungrateful woman. I’m trying to make you understand that you have a responsibility to help your brother in this crisis.”

“Stepbrother,” Abby said automatically. “No bloodline connection, remember?”

“That is beside the point. We are a family. Dawson says he could be looking at prison.”

“Look, I understand that he’s facing bankruptcy, but unless he was the one who was running the Ponzi scheme, I doubt that the Feds will charge him with a crime.”

“Don’t you understand?” Orinda said. “Whoever lured Dawson into that scheme made sure that when it fell apart, Dawson would take the fall.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. Sounds like this all comes down to money. If Dawson is forced to pay off some clients, he can borrow the money from the Strickland trust. Surely he can get a loan from you.”

There was a short, jarring silence.

“That is not an option,” Orinda said in a flat voice. “The trust is almost entirely depleted.”

“What?”

“I had Dawson invest almost the full amount into that damned Ponzi scheme.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake. I’m no expert on financial management, but didn’t anyone ever give you the talk on diversification of assets? And what about the if–it–looks-too-good–to–be–true–it–probably–is–too-good–to–be–true speech?”

“Don’t you dare lecture me, Abigail.” Orinda’s voice was electrified with anger and tension. “What’s done is done. It’s not Dawson’s fault that the money is gone. Dawson was the victim of a scam. But as a result, the entire family is facing financial ruin. You have got to find that book, Abigail. It’s the least you can do after all the trouble you caused us.”

The phone went dead in Abby’s hand. She looked at Sam.

“In case you didn’t figure it out, that was Dawson’s grandmother, Orinda Strickland.”

“The one who made sure you knew that you were not going to inherit a dime of her money?” Sam asked.

“Yep. Evidently, there is no longer a dime left to be inherited. It
seems that she put virtually all of the Strickland money into the Ponzi scheme.”

Sam whistled softly and shook his head. He did not say anything.

“I expect the next call will be from Dawson’s mother.”

“Your stepmother.”

“Yes.” Abby drummed her fingers on the table. “Although I suppose it’s possible they’ll get Dad to contact me. It’s not like he was going to inherit anything, because he did sign that prenup, but as long as the marriage lasts, he gets to enjoy the many benefits of the Strickland money. If he knows the faucet has been turned off and that the twins’ inheritance is at stake, he’ll pay attention.”

“You think he’ll be worried about your half sisters’ trust fund?”

“Jessica and Laura are Dad’s do–over kids,” Abby explained. “Part of the image of the modern family of choice. They’re attending a very expensive private college. He won’t want to see their tuition cut off.”

“This situation,” Sam said, “is getting complicated for you.”

“Yes, it certainly is.” She rose. “I’m going to take a walk. I need some fresh air to clear my head.”

Newton sprang to his feet at the word
walk.

“I’ll come with you,” Sam said.

Abby turned in the doorway. “I thought you said I’d be safe here on the island.”

“You’re safe.” Sam put his empty mug on the counter. “I just want to go with you. Do you mind?”

“Suit yourself.”

“So gracious,” he said, not quite under his breath. “And after all I’ve done for you.”

For the first time in her life, she knew what it meant to see red. She was so outraged, she could scarcely speak.

“Don’t you dare try to guilt-trip me,” she fumed. “I’ve just spent the past few minutes talking to a world-class expert.”

Sam grinned. “Couldn’t resist.”

She tried to stay mad, but she just did not have the energy for it. She burst into laughter instead.

“Your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired,” she said.

The misty rain had cleared. The day was starting to warm slowly, but the air was still cool and damp. Abby bundled up in a jacket. Sam put on a windbreaker. Once outside, Newton dashed about madly, bobbing in and out of the trees, glorying in his newfound off-leash freedom.

“I think he hears the call of the wild,” Abby said.

“For a condo dog, he certainly has adapted to the country life in a hurry.”

Abby looked at the three other houses just barely visible through the woods. “So this is the Coppersmith family compound.”

“One of them. There’s another one down in Sedona.”

Abby gestured toward the houses. “Who lives in those places?”

“My folks built that one for themselves.” He pointed to a modern-looking house that overlooked the water. “My mother never did like the old house. Judson and Emma use the other two when they’re on the island. We’re a close family, but we like our privacy. Also, my parents have long-range visions of a large, extended family with plenty of grandkids.”

“But none of you have married.”

“Not yet. Mom is starting to push. I think that’s why she and Dad got so excited about my relationship with Cassidy. They were so sure she was the one. They’re convinced that I’m pining away here on the island, nursing a broken heart.”

“I know you aren’t brokenhearted, but do you think it’s possible that when you were unable to solve the murder you may have become somewhat obsessed with your sense of failure?” Abby asked gently.

“Sure.” Sam smiled, a slow, cold smile. “But everything has changed now. I’m on the trail, thanks to you.”

They walked across the clearing and came to a halt at the top of the rocky bluff above the cove.

“Why did your mother name this cove Copper Beach?” Abby asked.

Sam’s mouth kicked up at the corner. “One of these days you’ll see for yourself.”

Not far offshore, a pod of orcas sliced through the waters. The massive black-and-white creatures rose out of the waves in graceful, acrobatic leaps, only to disappear back into the depths.

“That’s one of the resident pods,” Sam said. “The researchers have them all identified, named and logged. No two orcas have exactly the same markings. Each pod even has its own dialect of the whale language.”

“They’re stunning when you see them up close like this,” Abby said. “They look like they’re dancing.”

“They’re hunting. Takes a lot of food to keep an eight-ton animal going. Looks like they’ve found a school of salmon. They’ll work it as a team, driving the fish up against one of the underwater cliffs here on Legacy. Once the salmon are trapped, the orcas will pull out the knives and forks, otherwise known as very large teeth.”

“Nature in the raw. Literally. I prefer my salmon cooked.”

“Got news for you, the local fishermen often use the same technique to catch the salmon you eat. Hunting tactics don’t vary all that much from one species to another.” Sam’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his jacket and checked the screen. Then he took the call. “Sorry, Dad. Nothing much to report. I told you I’d call as soon as I had something for you.”

There was a short pause.

“That’s not necessary, Dad,” Sam said evenly. “You and Mom already have plans to come up here next week for the tech summit. No need to arrive early.”

Another pause.

“I see,” Sam said. He sounded resigned. He ended the call and looked at Abby. “That was my father.”