Wind Chime Summer: A Wind Chime Novel

by Sophie Moss

  “Izzy,” he breathed, pulling her against him.

  Their bodies locked together, and the taste of him—salty, minty, masculine—shot into her like a drug. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, the beat of his heart against her palm as she ran her hands up the hard muscles of his chest. She’d forgotten what it felt like to kiss without fear, to touch without fear.

  To live without fear.

  Ryan’s teeth scraped over her bottom lip and a small sound escaped from somewhere deep in her throat. His fingers threaded into her hair, tugging it free from the braid, and with every curl that slipped loose, she felt another piece of herself unravel. Her hands twisted into his shirt, pulling him closer. She wanted more of him, all of him.

  She wanted…

  The drawbridge bells began to clang again, signaling that the last boat had passed through for the night. Something about the noise—the subtle warning of it—had her easing back. Dazed, she looked up, into eyes the color of liquid smoke. She could see the longing in them—the same longing that was pulsing through every inch of her body.

  “Izzy, I…”

  A flash of light drew her gaze over his left shoulder. The first fireflies were beginning to come out for the night. The moon was a glimmer of pale white overhead. And all that was left of the sunset was a wash of dusky blues.

  Somewhere, in the back of her mind, it occurred to her that they should probably talk about this. But she didn’t want to let go of this feeling yet. She wanted to hold onto it for a little while longer.

  “It’s almost dark,” she said softly. “The others will start to worry if I’m not back soon.”

  Ryan lowered his mouth to hers again, making it clear he was in no hurry for her to leave. She gave in to the kiss, just for a moment, before pressing a hand to his chest and pushing lightly against him.

  He drew back instantly.

  Izzy stared at him, stunned, when she realized that was all it had taken for him to stop. All the heat, all the passion was still there, but he’d pulled back the moment she’d asked him to.

  She wondered if he had any idea how much that meant to her.

  Ryan reached up, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear so tenderly it made her heart ache. “I’ll drive you back.”

  A part of her wanted to say yes, just so she could spend a little more time with him. But she knew that she couldn’t walk into the inn like this. She needed some time to think first, to process what had happened, and she needed to do that alone. “No,” she said. “I’ll bike.”

  Ryan nodded, even though she could tell that he didn’t want her to go. He kept her hand securely in his as they walked over to the beach cruiser. He waited for her to get settled, then leaned down and left her with one last bone-melting kiss before stepping back and watching her pedal away.

  It took about ten minutes for the feeling in her legs to return, for the fog in her mind to clear. Halfway through the marshes, she let go of the handlebars, running her fingers through the spray of wildflowers lining the side of the road. When the phone in her basket began to ring, she thought nothing of it. Figuring it was probably someone from the inn calling to find out where she was, she pulled it out and glanced down at the screen.

  It wasn’t the inn.

  It was a number she didn’t recognize.

  Izzy stopped pedaling. There was only one person she was expecting a call from right now. Forcing herself to remain calm, she hit the ‘accept,’ button and lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Is this Izzy Rivera?” a female voiced asked.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Alicia Booker.”

  Izzy let the toes of her sneakers drag over the pavement as she rolled to a stop.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back sooner,” Alicia said. “I just checked my Facebook account and saw your message.”

  “That’s okay,” Izzy said, amazed at how steady her voice sounded to her own ears. “Thank you for getting back to me.” She climbed off the bike, still gripping one handlebar with her free hand. “I think I mentioned that we served on the same base in North Carolina.”

  “You did.”

  Izzy took a deep breath. “I know this is going to sound strange, but I’ve been keeping track of some of the women who are still serving on that base, mostly through social media, and I noticed that you went off the grid a few weeks ago.”

  The line went quiet on the other end.

  Izzy’s hand tightened around the phone. “I don’t want to pry into your personal life. I just want to know if…you’re okay.”

  Alicia said nothing for a long time, and when she finally spoke, her voice was hollow. “He did it to you, too, didn’t he?”

  Izzy closed her eyes. She wasn’t the only one. Bradley had raped someone else. And she could have prevented it. “Yes.”

  “Did he…?” Alicia paused and sounded uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Was he able to go through with it?”

  “Go through with it?” Izzy asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “He didn’t actually rape me,” Alicia said. “He just tried to.”

  Izzy’s eyes widened. “He…didn’t?”

  “I fought him off.”

  Izzy flashed back to how fast it had happened with her, how quickly he’d rendered her completely defenseless. “How?”

  “I was accepted into Ranger School last month,” Alicia explained. “I’ve been taking classes in hand-to-hand combat for over a year now, so I can prove to the men that I belong there. I’m not just after the tab. I want to join an actual unit afterwards.”

  Izzy lowered the bike to the middle of the road, and slowly sank down to the pavement beside it. He hadn’t raped her? He’d tried, but he hadn’t gone through with it? “Did you tell anyone?”

  “No. I took pictures of the bruises, just in case. But I’m black and blue from my combat classes all the time. It wouldn’t have been enough to hold up in court. And I don’t have any other evidence.”

  “Neither do I,” Izzy said. “But if it happened to both of us, there have to be others.”

  “I agree. And I want to do something about it. But I’m in the middle of a custody battle over my son right now. I can’t afford to have my name dragged through the mud. You know what happens to women who cry rape in the military. My ex’s lawyers would have a field day with this.”

  Izzy’s gaze dropped to the bike, lying awkwardly on its side beside her. Yes, she thought. She knew exactly what happened to women who cried rape in the military. They were accused of trying to get attention. They were branded as sluts and liars. They were turned into outcasts from the very people they’d served alongside for years.

  “Do you think you can find more?” Alicia asked suddenly.

  “I don’t know,” Izzy admitted. She’d been doing this research for months, and, so far, she’d only turned up one name.

  “If you can find more, I’ll go public with you,” Alicia said. “I don’t think two is enough.”

  How many more? Izzy wondered. How many more would it take for people to believe them?

  “I’ll start asking around on my end,” Alicia said. “It could take a while, since I’ll need to be discreet about it, but I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “Thanks,” Izzy said dully.

  “And, hey,” Alicia said, her voice softening. “I’m sorry…about what happened to you.”

  Izzy nodded, even though Alicia couldn’t see her. Too numb to speak, she ended the call and slowly lowered the phone to the pavement. She didn’t know how long she sat there, but when she finally looked up again, all the color had drained from the sky. There was nothing but darkness, the croak of a bullfrog, and the rustle of marsh grasses against a fallen tree.

  Seventeen

  Something was wrong, Ryan thought as he watched Izzy pull away from the dock with his father the next day. It was around ten o’clock and the boat had already been out to the lease once that morning. Matt and Wesley were in
the shed, sorting through the oysters they’d harvested, and Izzy had taken their place on the boat—a request she’d made as soon as she’d finished her tasks in the nursery.

  Ryan had a feeling that request had a lot more to do with him than her wanting to spend the rest of the day on the boat with his father.

  Since the moment she’d arrived with the others that morning, she’d barely spoken two words to him. She had circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept. And he could tell, from the haunted expression on her face, that she was sliding back into that dark place she’d worked so hard to claw her way out of over the past five weeks.

  What had he been thinking by kissing her the night before? He’d only joined her out on the pier because he’d wanted to spend some time with her, to get to know her a little better. Yes, he was attracted to her. Yes, he’d planned on kissing her eventually. But he hadn’t meant for it to happen so soon.

  He’d figured it would take at least a few more weeks to lay the groundwork. He’d wanted to test out the waters first, make sure she was a hundred percent comfortable around him before trying anything physical. If what Will suspected was true—that she’d been sexually assaulted—he’d figured it would take a while for her to warm up to someone in that way again.

  So, instead of giving her the time and the space that she’d needed, he’d kissed her.

  And probably ruined everything.

  Stripping off the gloves he’d been wearing to help Matt and Wesley unload the cages from the boat, he made his way over to the picnic table where Jeff had left a hard copy of a document he wanted him to review. It was a thank you note to everyone who had made a donation to the environmental center the night before. He picked it up and tried to focus on the paragraphs Jeff had written, but the words blurred on the page.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Izzy.

  Hell, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her for weeks now. She was the first thing he thought about in the morning when he woke up, and the last thing he thought about before he fell asleep at night.

  He’d never met a woman who’d invaded his thoughts the way Izzy did. It made him feel strung out—twisted up inside—like he was being pulled in a thousand different directions.

  He’d always been able to compartmentalize his emotions at work, to detach himself from any issues related to his personal life.

  Not that there’d been very many.

  Women had come and gone in his life as naturally as the tides. Most of his relationships had only lasted three or four months. They were usually with women he worked with, or had some kind of interest in his field. And he hardly ever had to make the first move.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actively pursued a woman—or imagined a future with one of them.

  Looking back out at the water, he watched Izzy lean over the side of the boat to hook one of the lines. For the first time in his life, he’d met a woman he didn’t want to let go of. He didn’t want to keep her at arm’s length like he had with the others. He didn’t want any space between them at all.

  Setting the unread letter on the table, he pulled out his phone and dialed his sister’s number. He didn’t know what was taking Grace so long, but if he was going to convince Izzy to give him a chance, he needed to know what had happened to her. He needed to know the truth.

  And he needed to know it now, before he screwed things up any further.

  * * *

  Izzy’s head was pounding. It felt like someone had wedged a shucking knife in the base of her skull and just kept twisting…and twisting…and twisting. Clenching her teeth against the pain, she caught the dripping oyster cage as it rose out of the water and guided it into the boat. As soon as it was safely onboard, she unhooked it from the hoist, and started to spray it down with the hose.

  A river of mud flowed back toward Coop, where he stood at the helm with one hand resting casually on the wheel and a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips.

  She’d been out on the boat with him enough times over the past few weeks to know that he preferred to work in silence. Which was fine with her. She was too freaked out to talk to anyone anyway. She knew, now, that her rapist had attacked someone else—that what happened to her hadn’t been an isolated incident, motivated by revenge. In the space of one year, he’d targeted both her and Alicia.

  And if there were two of them, there had to be more.

  She’d been up all night trying to find them. She’d scoured the social media pages of every female soldier on her list, searching for something—anything—that would raise a red flag. But there were too many names now. She’d expanded her list to include any woman who’d ever served on the same base as Bradley Welker, not just the ones who’d served under his command. And she didn’t know if she was even looking in the right places anymore.

  What if she’d missed something? What if she’d accidentally skipped a name? What if she’d been scrolling too fast?

  Coop walked up to the other side of the platform when she set down the hose. He helped her empty the oysters into bushel baskets, and without another word, returned to the helm. Izzy dragged the baskets to the front of the boat, then headed back to her own station, her rubber boots tracking mud all over the deck, her waterproof bibs squeaking with every step.

  She knew, now, that she couldn’t do this alone. It was only a matter of time before Bradley attacked someone else. She needed to find the rest of his victims. And she needed to find them fast.

  But who could she ask for help?

  Leaning over the side of the boat, she hooked the next cage, attached the line to the hoist, and then straightened to let the hydraulics do the rest of the work. She’d almost called Erin a half dozen times last night. She’d wanted to tell her therapist, if only to have someone to talk to. But she knew what Erin would say as soon as she found out—that Izzy and Alicia needed to come forward. And as much as Izzy agreed with that, she had to honor Alicia’s request.

  She’d considered telling Will and Colin, just to get the whole thing out in the open. Maybe they’d know someone who could help her track down the rest of the victims. But the thought of having to relive the incident again, of actually having to say the words out loud in front of them, made her feel physically ill.

  And then there was Ryan.

  What was she supposed to do about Ryan?

  The way they’d left things last night, she could only assume that he thought she liked him as much as he liked her—which was true. But if anyone found out that she was carrying on with her new boss, it would kill her credibility when she finally came forward to accuse her attacker. Anyone who believed that this was how she behaved at work could conclude that she must have been doing the same thing with Bradley.

  That she must have led him on in some way.

  That she must have asked for it.

  “You gonna pull that cage in, or just leave it hanging there?” Coop asked.

  “Sorry,” Izzy said, grabbing the cage and guiding it onto the platform. She sprayed it off quickly, then looked back up at Coop. He was watching her closely now, with a look on his face she’d never seen before. He had the same perceptive gray eyes as his son. And despite the fact that he kept most of his thoughts to himself, she had a feeling he didn’t miss much.

  Determined not to make another mistake, Izzy set the hose down, got a good grip on the cage, and waited for him to walk over and help her empty it. Instead he stayed where he was.

  “I’m not used to working with someone who’s quieter than I am,” Coop said.

  A wake from another boat hit them, and Izzy tightened her grip on the cage to keep from losing her balance.

  Unfazed by the swaying deck, Coop flicked ashes from his cigarette over the side of the boat. “You got something on your mind?”

  “Not really.”

  Coop continued to watch her as he finished the rest of his cigarette. When he finally stuffed the butt into a soda can and walked over to help her, Izzy let out a breath. They
went back to work, and Izzy focused all her attention on the task at hand. They’d already planted all the oysters she’d graduated from the nursery that morning. They’d checked a few of the older lines for signs of mortality and over-silting. And now they were pulling up cages to take into the shed for Matt and Wesley to run through a piece of equipment that would wash, sort, and tumble the oysters.

  It was hard, sweaty, backbreaking labor, but it was keeping her mind in check and she was grateful for the distraction. When another workboat cruised by twenty minutes later, Coop lifted a hand to wave to the man behind the wheel. The man waved back and Izzy caught the nostalgic expression that passed over Coop’s face.

  It was gone as quickly as it came, but there was no mistaking it.

  “I heard you went out on Jake’s boat a few weeks ago,” Coop said, breaking the silence.

  Izzy nodded.

  “Had you ever been out crabbing before?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head.

  “What’d you think?”

  “I liked being out on the water,” she said, peeling the top off one of the cages and extracting a tiny seahorse that had gotten trapped inside. “It’s a lot of work, but I can imagine worse ways to make a living.”

  Coop nodded, his gaze shifting to the next workboat that was coming in for the day.

  Izzy released the seahorse back into the Bay. When she straightened and looked at Coop again, she saw that he was still watching the workboat. There was a man about his age behind the wheel. He had a teenage boy and a black lab on board with him. The boy was playing tug-of-war with the dog over a piece of rope.

  Coop continued to watch them until they passed under the drawbridge and disappeared out of sight.

  “Do you miss it?” she asked.

  Coop slid another cigarette out of his pack. He took his time lighting it before turning around to face her. “Sometimes,” he admitted, blowing out a stream of smoke. “But I don’t miss not knowing if I’ll make enough to provide for my family each week.”

  The word ‘family’ triggered something inside Izzy, and she remembered suddenly that she hadn’t seen any pictures of Coop’s wife in any of the albums she’d gone through before the event. She was fairly certain Ryan hadn’t ever mentioned anything about a mother either. That was kind of strange, wasn’t it?