14. Luke

It'd been a long, long time since I last walked the stretch of beach in front of the estate. I'd ditched my shoes back at the house and opted for bare feet, cuffing my pants at midcalf. Elijah was a wall of silence beside me, somehow sand-free in his black suit and aloof behind his sunglasses.

The waving sea grass to our left was a constant, as were the foamy fingers of surf reaching toward us before being sucked back out on the tide. A handful of sailboats dotted the horizon and every fiber of my being yearned to make a break for it. To dive in, swim far out and haul myself onto some kind of watercraft.

The ocean had been my playground, my office, my faithful companion for most of my life, and spending even a week with my feet firmly planted on the ground felt entirely wrong. Like wearing your clothing two sizes too small, just tight enough to make you aware of every stitch and tag.

Ethel Walker and Clarita Reyes-Castillo walked back up from where they'd crouched next to the tiny terrier they'd introduced as Kingston. They were wives in their early sixties, dressed in matching tie-dye and aviator sunglasses, who had somehow worked with my fatherthirty-five years ago. They were popular local real estate agents, and as soon as Elijah mentioned them, I realized I'd seen their faces in ads all over town.

Ethel was a white woman with gray hair that fell down her back and owlish, wire-rimmed glasses. Clarita had a black bob streaked with white, darkly tanned skin, and chunky rings decorating her fingers.

"It's been, what, thirty years since we were welcome at Lincoln's estate?" Clarita asked her wife. "He invited us around a few times when it was first being built but it was always so obvious that he was showing off."

"Used to be we had a nice thing going with Lincoln," Ethel explained, "the three of us working together to sell houses throughout the South Shore. Clarita and I had a lot of bills to pay back then, so all the money we made with your father at the time made it easier to deal with his ego." She reached forward to touch my arm. "Your mother was too good for him."

My pulse rang in my ears. "You knew…my mom?"

"We loved your mom," Clarita said warmly. "We're so sorry she's gone."

Grief wrapped a hand around my throat. Sometimes it came back to me like this—that stringent medical smell in her room. How the pain seemed to shrink her body. Preston and I sitting at the foot of her bed, trying to make her laugh with stories from school.

"She used to play this game with us as kids, if one of us had to stay home sick," I said. "She called it ‘carrot monster,' which meant ‘turn every vegetable in the fridge into a terrifying costume.' How she was able to get the zucchinis to look like talons on her fingers, she never told us. Loved to chase us around though, especially out here on the beach. The sea gulls would follow us for stray bits of lettuce."

I avoided looking at the two women in front of me while I spoke. If I did, I had a sneaking suspicion I'd start to cry. My mother came from a small family we weren't close to, and if she had friends in Cape Avalon, I didn't know who they were. I was too young when I lost her to understand the full expanse of her vibrant life.

I often felt like I grieved her alone.

Next to me, Elijah cleared his throat. "Once, my brother and I were home sick with the same head cold. My mom worked the night shift, so she was running on about an hour of sleep when we'd woken her up, coughing. She still ran out to the store and brought us home one of those pizza-sized cookie cakes. She let us eat the whole thing while watching cartoons with her all day on the couch."

"I remember those. The kind with the icing," I said, my smile widening.

He gave a nod, and I couldn't see his eyes, but I felt the solid weight of them. His physical nearness continued to be my undoing, as if my brain knew he'd keep my every childhood secret and tortured memory safe from harm.

Ethel extended a hand, pointing toward the Laurel Lighthouse, at the end of the cape. "Clarita and I got married at the lighthouse. It was the best kind of big gay wedding. Everyone flew in from all over—my family in Maine, Clarita's family in Florida and San Juan. All of our friends from the Shipwreck." She peered back at me with a knowing smile. "Some members of this town like to ignore the deep roots of our queer history here. The drag balls and protests, the ways we've taken care of each other when society refused to. We have to fight to protect our legacy here, our futures."

I tipped my head in agreement. "We do need to fight, every damn day. Is that why you ultimately stopped working with my dad? He wasn't exactly a champion for queer liberation."

"No, he wasn't," Ethel said. "He was only ever a champion for himself. But Clarita and I were expert sellers at that time, taking the market here by storm. It was a strategic move for him, partnering with us. Money was what he cared about, everything else was superficial."

"And you know, your father was charming," Clarita said with a sad smile. "Especially in the beginning. A lot of men like him are. They can easily project generosity and charisma, especially when they want something from you. Whether that's your money or your respect or even your jealousy. Ethel and I were just starting to realize he wasn't who we thought he was when your grandfather died, leaving Lincoln an obscene amount of money. He quit the next day to found TBG. It was only afterward that we realized how much he'd manipulated us along the way."

I bit back a sigh. "He did tend to do that."

Ethel squinted into the sun. "Your father never had as much power as he believed he did. Know what I mean?"

I muttered something noncommittal and looked away, very aware that Elijah was studying my profile. Because I didn't know what Ethel meant. I'd spent my entire life resisting my father's manipulation at every turn, so much so that it felt like a twenty-four seven job.

"So why are you calling Lincoln's former business partners out of the blue?" Ethel asked.

Elijah removed his sunglasses. We shared a quick look.

"Someone was threatening my dad before he died," I said. "It started with emails, voicemails. Then a letter arrived, a week ago, demanding that I return some flash drive they believe I have or my dad had? A flash drive I haven't been able to find so far. Oh, also, they tried to kill me and Elijah with a car bomb."

Both women reared back in surprise.

"You mean that bomb at the adventure park was you two?" Ethel said. "Goodness, Luke, how awful."

I raised a shoulder. "I'm out here turning over every rock, seeing what's hiding underneath. You knew him when he was younger. You're local—seems like you've got the pulse on town politics. I'm not foolish enough to think you'd know anything about a random flash drive. But he's clearly angered someone."

Ethel and Clarita stared at each other for a moment while the ocean breeze tugged at their hair. Then Clarita said, "Luke, your father owned every secret in the Hamptons, and he wasn't that private about it. He traded in information. Valuable information. The kind worth more than money."

My brow creased. "What do you mean? He blackmailed people?"

"He's certainly not the only powerful person to do so," Ethel said. "Though he would have found the word blackmail to be too pedestrian for his tastes."

I glanced at Elijah, who was watching us closely.

"Okay, so…" I blew out a long breath. "He used secrets for…leverage?"

"Your father worked with exceptionally wealthy people. Celebrities, politicians, CEOs. Information becomes highly prized when you have more money than you know what to do with. What's more cash when you have all the cash?" Ethel shrugged. "It's more powerful to say ‘I know who you're sleeping with.' And listen, you're right that we can't help you with the specifics of that letter. But you can certainly keep a secret on a flash drive. Photos, files, receipts. Proof."

I scrubbed my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends. "Well, shit. Who knows how many enemies he made doing that. Who hated him the most?"

Clarita chewed on her lip, casting her eyes toward the horizon.

"What is it?" Ethel asked.

"Are you thinking about the tidal wetlands?"

Ethel laughed. "That's a trip back in time. Luke was probably a teenager."

At my questioning look, Ethel waved her hand between us. "Lincoln had this new luxury housing project near the village of Rodanthe Hills, in an area that used to be a tidal wetland habitat. It was beloved, it was beautiful. Rugged and isolated, completely crucial to the oceanic habitat."

I winced. "Did my dad like…build a mall on top of it or something?"

Clarita tipped her head to the side. "It was more complicated than that. He was granted a permit to build housing there, but on just a small area. Only the most passionate environmental advocates protested it at the time. It barely made the news, mostly because it didn't seem like it would do too much damage. It was within the regulations."

Kingston barked at her feet and she stooped to pick him up. "We have close friends who live near there and they told us about the goings-on at the time. There was a local park ranger who helped manage the wetlands and he fought your father tooth and nail, for years, over the project. His name was Clarence Craven."

I caught Elijah's eye. "Clarence Craven? We met him a few days ago. He's co-coordinating the protest at Sunrise Village."

"He mentioned he was only there on a visit," Elijah added. "Usually, he helps virtually from Rodanthe Hills."

"That's where he still lives," Ethel said. "He didn't mention he knew your father?"

"No, no, he didn't," I said slowly. "And he seemed jumpy the whole time." Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck. "What ultimately happened between Clarence and my dad?"

Clarita sighed. "Clarence went to every city hall meeting, started to get bigger crowds to protest at the dig site, was always there himself with a bullhorn. It was alleged that he sabotaged the building equipment, even. But in the end…Lincoln didn't adhere to the permit. The wetlands were razed, homes were built on top of them, and it completely changed the ecological environment, which was delicate to begin with. TBG never got in trouble for it either, but Clarence hasn't given it up. It's personal to him."

"And he didn't say a fucking thing to me about it," I said, cocking an eyebrow toward Elijah. "Does that feel strange to you?"

"Doesn't feel normal," he muttered with a frown.

"Would my dad have cause to blackmail Clarence though?" I asked. "If he did, doesn't seem like it was keeping Clarence quiet."

Ethel scratched behind Kingston's ears. "There are two things to consider, Luke. You wanted to know who publicly hated him the most, and Clarence is high on that list. I can't speak to this flash drive business, but I can speak to a man who feels hostile toward the Beaumont family and what you represent."

Her mouth bunched to the side. "And the other thing? Getting a wetland building permit in the state of New York is a near impossibility. Especially fifteen years ago. So how did your father get one?"

The memory of Senator Wallace at the garden party flashed through my brain. How skillfully she hid her frustration with the Sunrise Village delay, how artfully she redirected my misgivings. I wondered how she would have responded if we'd been alone and not in public. Wondered how long she'd been helping my father by fast-tracking permits he shouldn't have gotten.

And if she had any secrets she didn't want revealed.

A splash in the water drew Ethel's and Clarita's attention and they both brightened when they realized it was a pod of dolphins.

"Oh, Kingston, look," Ethel said, before they set off following him down the beach. "We'll be right back, Luke!" she yelled over her shoulder.

I squeezed the back of my neck. "Turns out they were a good clue. Good people too. Wish I'd known them after my mother died." I tossed him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Elijah."

He was eyeing me carefully. "Do you believe what they said?"

"Absolutely. This shit would be easy to hide too. You never saw any evidence he was blackmailing people while you were with him, right?"

"That's…" He dropped his gaze to the sand. "That's not something I would ever have known. Preston, maybe. Kenneth, almost definitely. I'm supposed to blend in with the background, but that didn't mean Lincoln let me see everything. Especially something illegal."

"If Preston knew my dad was blackmailing people, he'd tell me he was doing it for the right reasons. Kenneth would rather eat glass than admit something like that to me, of all people." I tipped my head to the side. "Clarence is suspicious, yeah?"

He nodded. "Agreed."

"And did you think about Senator Wallace when Ethel mentioned the permits?"

He clenched his jaw. "I did. But she's about to announce her run for president. I doubt she'd risk the bad press of being caught arranging for car bombs."

I hummed under my breath, mulling it over. "Possibly. She's not off the hook for me yet, though Clarence is a strong lead, especially since he omitted his decades-long feud with my father when we met with him." Then I snapped my fingers as an idea came to me. "We should take a drive out to Rodanthe Hills, try and pin down Clarence. Use the element of surprise to see what he knows."

Elijah stilled. "Luke, I'm not so sure?—"

"Have you been before? It's only about a half hour from here and it's beautiful. We could even make a whole weekend out of it. Not that we'd be going just so I could show you beautiful things, but if we're already there why wouldn't I show you, right?" I offered up a smile. "We're close to finding out who's doing this. Really close. I can feel it."

His expression slammed shut. "We can't be taking day trips together. It's inappropriate."

"Says who?" I scoffed. "You'd accompany me there if I was traveling for a meeting or going on vacation. You told me when we first met that I was to have round-the-clock protection."

"It's not…that's not what I'm referring to," he said roughly. "It's about blurring boundaries. We talked about this. You signed a contract."

An oh shit sensation tightened my chest and sent my heart flopping to the ground. A pitiful excuse for an organ, really. "The ‘we can't be friends' contract. Yeah, I remember. Don't worry, I won't buy you a beer or anything. And I was only joking when I offered you that joint last night, I swear."

Elijah's eyes closed. He slid his sunglasses back on and it felt like a dismissal. "You know what I'm talking about, Luke. Unprofessional behavior leads to distraction, which leads to an increased risk of danger."

His fingers on my wrist. The look of concern after my nightmare. That almost-smile of his, beckoning me close.

"Is sharing personal information about each other unprofessional?" I asked lightly.

"I shouldn't have. Shouldn't have—" He stopped, glaring out at the horizon. "Shouldn't have agreed to any of this."

That tight feeling in my chest cracked, became sharper. "Shouldn't have agreed to help me take down your former client, you mean. Pretty unprofessional of you."

Elijah leaned in close and lowered his voice. "I'm doing what I have to do to keep everyone's jobs because the heir to the Beaumont Group manipulated me into doing his bidding," he snapped. "You're so shocked that your dad was keeping secrets as leverage, but what the hell are you doing to me, Lucas?"