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.”
“Bad news?” she asked, concerned.
“Depends on your point of view. He and Mom are on their way here to the island. They’re due to arrive this afternoon.”
25
THE COPPER BEACH DINER WAS NEARLY EMPTY WHEN ABBY arrived. By the time the young waitress brought the coffee to the booth, the place was half full, and more of the locals were ambling in every minute.
“You’re good for business,” the waitress said in low tones. “Between you and me, the boss is thrilled. Problem is, the only things people are ordering are coffee and doughnuts.”
The server looked to be about nineteen. She was cheerful, friendly and unabashedly curious. Her blond hair was secured in a tight ponytail. Her uniform consisted of a pair of jeans and a T–shirt. She was not wearing a name tag. In a town the size of Copper Beach, there was probably no need for one, Abby reflected. She had heard some of the other customers greet the waitress as Brenda.
“Don’t knock the coffee and doughnuts,” Abby said, in an equally soft voice. “High-profit items.”
“Sure, for the boss. But people who only order coffee and doughnuts don’t leave much in the way of a tip.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve done this kind of work. Sorry about that. Maybe I should put up a sign that says minimum order of a hamburger required if you’re here to see the stranger in town. And there will be an extra charge for viewing the dog out front.”
Brenda snickered. Abby glanced around the crowded restaurant. Several pairs of eyes quickly slid away. The buzz of artificial conversation got louder. Most of it revolved around fishing and the state of the weather.