My head snaps back in surprise. I don’t understand.
As a child Judy was a resident at Saltspray? Why didn’t she say anything?
Before I can dwell on that question, my gaze drifts back at the photo of Gabriel and the boy. Next, I read the report and the room begins to spin.
After pulling in several deep breaths to get back my bearings, I pull myself to my feet and return to the balcony.
I drop the article, photos, and the report on the table next to the whiskey bottle.
“Is it true? Did you push someone from the roof when you were seventeen?” I point at the other boy in the photo. “That’sLuke Landry, a high school friend of yours. According to that article, he died after being pushed from the roof.”
I desperately want to believe that Gabriel is innocent in all this. Please God, let there be a good explanation.
Gabriel’s gaze drops to the table. For what feels like hours, he just stares at the evidence before him. When he finally raises his head, his bloodshot eyes have a haunted look to them. “It was an accident.” His voice is like gravel now. “It’s all there in black and white.”
“That’s not what I read. Also, according to the PI’s report, there was enough evidence to prove that you deliberately pushed him during a fight.” I run a hand through my hair. “And your family covered it up?”
I can totally understand why they would do that. Gabriel was seventeen, about to go to law school. Something like that would have ruined his entire life. From what I know, his parents are rich and powerful, owners of several luxury hotels and resorts all over the US and abroad.
The Suttons had money, and the kind of power that makes truths disappear.
Is that what happened here?
“Gabriel, your PI clearly thinks?—”
“Thought,” he blurts out. “Lawrence, the PI. He’s dead.”
I sink into an empty chair, the cushion sighing under my weight.
“What do you mean dead?” My voice is unsteady, cracked at the edges.
“I went to meet him, and I found him in his car…shot in the head.” He puts down the tumbler and wipes his eyes. “I called the police to tell them about the body.”
I don’t know how long I sit there staring at him, trying to come up with a response that feels logical. “Who killed him?” I ask finally, my voice a whisper.
Gabriel shrugs and averts his gaze.
“Something is going on here. There has to be a reason why the PI shared this information with you. I need to know the truth, Gabriel. What did your childhood have to do with the investigation into Sadie?” I pick up the report and begin reading it aloud.
Mr. Sutton, I am well aware that my assignment was supposed to end at finding dirt on the camp, but I pride myself on never leaving a stone unturned, and inconsistencies in your daughter’s disappearance demanded a broader look. I expanded my inquiry to include everyone involved, including you and your wife. My research led me to examine both your backgrounds, a decision that uncovered the below information:
Gabriel Sutton (father): At seventeen, it was believed that you pushed a classmate—a close friend—off the roof of Redwood Vine High School in LA. Officially it was an accident. No charges were filed, and no trial took place. But relatives of the victim, Luke Landry, and certain law-enforcement contacts informed me they had evidence pointing to intent. But your family apparently paid off a witness and donated a new auditorium to the school as well as brand-new musical instruments.
Unfortunately, I was unable to locate the witness, but friends who knew both you and Luke Landry claim you fought over a girl. But the official story is that Luke slipped and fell to his death.
Mr. Sutton, the reason I am sharing this with you is because my gut tells me what happened in your childhood could be connected to your daughter’s disappearance.
I look up, my face burning. “Did you push him?” I whisper, tears welling. “Tell me the truth.”
Defeated, his bloodshot eyes meet mine. “I did.”
I close my eyes, draw in a steadying breath. When I open them, tears spill out. “Then tell me if your pastdoestie into Sadie’s disappearance. Lawrence wouldn’t have chased this lead if it wasn’t relevant. Tell me everything or I’ll go to the police.” I sniff loudly. “Start with the night she disappeared.”
The moment those words escape me, that night floods back like a raging wave. Gabriel running after Sadie, vanishing for hours, not responding to my calls and messages. What happened during those missing hours?
“It was all my fault.” He drops his head into his hands. “I never should have…I shouldn’t have done it.”
The slur has returned to his voice and it makes it hard to understand what he’s saying. His hand drags across the table as he reaches for the tumbler, but I move it out of his reach and snatch the bottle as well, placing it on the floor at my feet.
