Page 2 of Light of Day
LMK the second someone says yes
Isn’t it too early to text?
Yes, wait until 7
Her boss had texted too. Meeting at nine. Mandatory.
Crap, that couldn’t be good. More budget cuts? Heather sighed as she swung her legs over the edge of her bed. So much for a raise, or a real vacation. At this rate, the only time off she could afford would be spent visiting her mother on Sea Smoke Island, and the good Lord knew that was no vacation.
No texts from Tim. Fuck. Might as well block him. At least that way she could cling to the fantasy that he wanted her back and was frantically trying to get in touch with her.
Her friend Gabby had texted too, several times. She thumbed through those texts quickly.
Still on Sea Smoke. Crazy AF. You coming?
Gabby had been on Sea Smoke Island, where Heather had grown up, for a couple of weeks now. She’d wanted Heather to come with her—some mysterious lead she was following—but Heather hadn’t been able to swing it.
Correction. She hadn’t wanted to. Going back to Sea Smoke was an emotional minefield for her. She loved the island—the wind, the foghorns, the wild roses—and yet as soon as she stepped onto the weathered planks of that dock, she was a Messy McPhee again.
As she brushed her teeth, blinking blearily at her reflection in the bathroom mirror—hazel eyes slightly bloodshot, light brown hair, a mess—her phone rang. Gabby.
Brushing teeth, she texted.
Don’t care. Pick up.
“Dude,” Heather said as she put her phone on speaker. She spat into the bathroom sink. “Boundaries?”
“Sorry, but we’re past that right now. You have got to get out here. There’s some shady shit going on.”
“I mean, it’s Sea Smoke Island. There’s always something shady happening. Why do you think I left? You even said it made your skin crawl.”
Gabby had gone with Heather on her last visit to Sea Smoke, in March. As soon as they’d stepped off the ferry, she’d looked around uncomfortably. “Where are all the Black people?” she’d whispered. “Am I seriously the only one?”
“That was different,” Gabby said now. “Or maybe not. This story…listen, I can’t talk about it over the phone. How soon can you get here?”
“Gabby!” Heather spluttered through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. “I can’t just leave, I have a job.”
“Remember when you wanted to be a journalist? This is our chance to break through with the podcast. It ought to be you on this story, it’s your island. Everyone’s giving me those little side-eyes all the time. Just…trust me, okay? You don’t want to miss this. Hang on.” Something distracted her for a moment, giving Heather a chance to swish the toothpaste out of her mouth.
She and Gabby had become friends while completing the journalism program at Boston University, and had both pursued careers that couldn’t quite be called “journalism.” Gabby ran a celebrity gossip blog, while Heather worked on a show that specialized in finding the most hot-button issues of the day and booking people to yell at each other about them. They both fantasized about doing in-depth reporting, but those jobs were in short supply.
That was why they’d recently started a podcast together, which they were calling Dirty Rotten Bastards. The idea was to expose misdeeds of all sorts—lies, misinformation, corruption. Ambitious? Yes. Doable? Maybe. So far, Gabby had been doing most of the work.
“Sorry, I’m back,” said Gabby, sounding a little out of breath. “This is big, Heather. Really big. I need you out here.”
She rinsed out her mouth and set her toothbrush back in its holder. “You mean there’s a ‘dirty rotten bastard’ on Sea Smoke? What a shocker.”
“No jokes. Just…call in sick, Heather. Whatever it takes. Text me when you’re on the ferry and I’ll meet you at the dock. See you soon.”
“But—”
Too late. The call ended.
As Heather rushed around her studio apartment getting ready for work, she considered what it would take for her to drive to Maine right now. It was Friday, so she could theoretically go up for the weekend. Obviously she would keep her phone on. If any crises arose during that time, she could handle them remotely.
Since she and Tim had broken up two weeks ago, her weekends loomed empty and lonely before her. To fill the void, she planned to have Sunday brunch with a couple of friends from college, but that was easily canceled. It was just a stopgap, a way to feel like she still had some kind of social life after the breakup.
Then she remembered that she couldn’t possibly go anywhere this weekend. The show’s budget proposal was due next week, and Mindy, her boss, had tasked her with putting the first draft together. She wanted it by Monday so she could make adjustments before the Wednesday deadline.
