Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(74)

I also don’t recall if the Big Island was the yacht’s real destination. I doubt it.

“He told me about that dreadful storm, how the runabout was lost in the rough weather.” She shrugs. “It’s too bad, but it was just a boat.”

Storm? I get the sense it couldn’t be more wrong.

“Would you care for a drink, Flint? Our maid is out shopping, but Webster is in the kitchen. He’ll fix you anything you’d like.”

Webster. I know that name. My heartbeat intensifies.

He’s been our cook for years and goes wherever Mother wants. Spends most of his time between this house and two others. One in the heart of the city, one here, and one on Kauai.

“No, thanks, Mrs. Gerard.” Flint says. “I’m fine.”

“You do look fine,” Mother says, brow raised. “Tell me, how do you get along with Savanny?”

“He’s a nice cat,” he says.

“Ha! I love your sense of humor. That droll little beast doesn’t like anyone except my daughter. Hasn’t since the day Stanley brought it home.” Frowning, she then looks at me. “Where is Savanny, Valerie?”

“He’s at Flint’s house,” I say, eyeing her cautiously.

“Really? You left him behind?” she asks again. “Odd. You haven’t gone anywhere without that cat since you got him. Why, you practically become a hermit sometimes, refusing to let him out of your sight, always so afraid someone will steal your precious baby away from you.” Glancing at Flint, she continues, “Exotic cats like Savanny are illegal in Hawaii. But my Stanley spoiled his little girl rotten. She always wanted a cheetah, so Stanley found a way for her to have the next best thing. He was always so good with that, finding ways around the impossible to keep this family happy.”

Well, that confirms one memory.

Besides his death, and a few foggy hints now and then, I don’t remember much about my father. Just like I don’t remember much about her, other than the fact she’s my mother.

“I don’t think there was a storm, Mother. That’s not what happened to the skiff,” I say slowly.

Flint tenses at my side, shooting me a searing, glassy look. Careful, his eyes warn.

Mother slowly frowns. “You must be mistaken, dear. Ray told me all about it. He said there were huge waves, terrible winds. A miracle you were close to port when it blew through. He wouldn’t lie about something like that. There’s no good reason. An accident is an accident.”

“Did he tell you Val was injured?” Flint asks, his voice a low growl.

“Injured? Heaven’s no!” She looks genuinely concerned now, those matching gold eyes like mine flicking back and forth. “Where? How? What happened?”

The butterfly stitches fell off the other day, but I put my hand to my temple, where there’s still a thin pinkish scar.

“It was just a bump to the head,” I say. “Nothing life-threatening.”

“It was a gash,” Flint says, folding his hands, leaning forward in his chair. “Val was knocked out unconscious.”

“Oh, that little rascal. Now I see,” she says. Like Ray is just a kid Bryce’s age instead of a full-grown man. “He didn’t tell me any of that. He doesn’t tell me anything. He must think I’ll worry myself to an early grave, just like your poor father.”

It doesn’t surprise me Ray lied to her. But it’s hardly for the benign reasons Mother thinks.

My hands start trembling. Flint’s fingers tuck tight around my right hand, and I squeeze his palm as images of chaos, water, and fire on the ocean flash in my mind.

I don’t want her knowing about my amnesia, so I try not to dwell on it.

“Have you been checked out, Valerie?” Mother asks.

“A doctor saw her,” Flint says. “Ray knows all about it.”

“He does?” This time she sounds mildly angry, confused. “I don’t...when did this happen?”

“While she was on the yacht,” Flint answers.

The flashbacks are fading, and though I don’t want them to return, I have to know more.

I’m not thinking straight when my next words come. I just want answers.

“Mother, listen. I think Ray might be involved in something. Something seriously wrong, something with King Heron.”

“Nonsense, doll. He took over the helm after your father died, and he’s working with the same lovely people your father employed.” She shakes her head. “Everything runs just the same. Except for missing Stanley’s instincts, sometimes. The man always found a way, even when his odds were terrible. Surely, you know Ray’s cut from the same cloth. He’d never—”

“What about the missing ships, Mrs. Gerard?” Flint asks, cutting in.

I glance up at him.

Missing ships? Wait. He’s right, there have been missing ships.

“It’s true. We’ve lost a few over the years. Always as ghastly as it is unexpected, these tragedies.” She shrugs. “Accidents happen in this line of business, in these waters.”

They aren’t accidents. I know that. I know more, too, but it’s not quite coming.

It’s blocked, partitioned off in my brain by something I don’t want to remember.

“Missing ships aren’t accidents...” Flint sits up in his seat, skimming a thumb across my hand, staring at Mother pointedly. “They’re tragedies, Mrs. Gerard, you aren’t wrong about that. But they aren’t accidents.”