“I only want to know if the boat was here.”
The woman shook her head. “Honey, I can’t help you.”
Shannon accepted the answer, for now. “Do you have Wi-Fi here?”
“We do, but the antenna is broken. Sometimes weeks go by before anyone gets here to do repairs.”
“Is there any other way I can check email?” Shannon’s phone plan allowed for text messaging, but not email.
“I’m not really supposed to, but I can let you use the office computer. Just don’t download anything. It runs off satellite and is expensive if we go over our data limit.”
“Great. Thanks.” Shannon sat behind the counter and accessed her account. She had fifteen unread messages from Lance the Loser. She almost gave into the temptation to read them but resisted. She wanted to read he’d made a dreadful mistake and he couldn’t live without her. He better be suffering. She had no intention of getting back together with him or getting together with any man for that matter. Better to be single than to be hurt again. She selected all fifteen messages and hit the delete key. He didn’t deserve to be answered after what he’d done.
The VHF radio sitting on the desk beside the receptionist announced a boat needed fuel and the dock attendants were busy.
“I’ve got to deal with that,” the receptionist said.
Shannon waited until she could no longer see the green and orange vision swishing away from her. She strode across the small room to the registration binder. She checked over her shoulder and made sure the woman wasn’t coming back, then quickly flipped the pages, looking for Waterfall.
Waterfall was listed for a two-night stay on January tenth last season. Unfortunately, there was no mention of crew. She ran her finger along her uncle’s name, wishing for a hidden message. One more data point. What kind of reporter was she that she didn’t check the marina log in Nassau?
The door to the office creaked, and Shannon froze. She slowly glanced in its direction, having no idea what she would say. With relief, she realized the wind had caused the creak, and the doorway stood empty.
Shannon remembered the first phone call from Debi. The first hint that something was wrong. She’d been sitting in her apartment waiting for Lance the Loser to come home from the hospital.
She answered on the first ring. “Happy Birthday. What are you doing to celebrate?”
“I haven’t heard from Bobby in over a week,” Debi said.
“Is that normal?”
“If it wasn’t my birthday, I wouldn’t be worried.”
“I’m sure he’s just out of range. Maybe he can’t get to a phone.”
That had been January fifteenth. Now, Shannon wished she’d paid more attention. She’d thought he was sailing somewhere isolated, so there was nothing to worry about.
Shannon flipped through the rest of the registration binder but didn’t find another entry referring to Waterfall. Before she got caught snooping, she returned to the computer and finished reading her email.
She left the stuffy office, and a commotion at the end of the dock grabbed her attention. Beyond the fuel pumps, near the entrance to the marina, she spotted Jake and Debi watching something. Peanut hid behind Debi’s leg.
Three guys off a sport fisher cleaned their catch of the day, and about twenty sharks frothed in the water in a feeding frenzy. Shannon joined the group. Peanut’s tail tucked between her legs, and her ears were pinned back.
Shannon kneeled and kissed Peanut’s head. “Shh. There’s nothing to worry about.” She lifted her and held her with her eyes facing away from the sharks. “What kind are they?”
“Mostly nurse but a few lemon, too,” Jake said.
“How can you tell?”
“The dark brown ones are nurse. The slightly lighter ones are lemon.”
“They look the same to me.”
“Except the nurse sharks are harmless. The lemons aren’t.”
The receptionist from the office approached. “Did you get what you needed?”
Shannon assumed she meant email and not the binder. “Yes. Thanks. I was wondering if the Wi-Fi is often out of operation.”
The woman gave a weak smile as if the state of the equipment embarrassed her. “It’s down more often than it’s working.”
“Are there other places to access Wi-Fi in the Exumas?”
“Sure. Compass Cay and Staniel. But only if they’re operating. They have the same problems we do.”
“You in desperate need of the Internet?” Jake asked.
“No. Just curious about something.”
“Well, that’s informative. Did you check out the store?”
The store, the size of two vans parked beside each other, contained canned goods, long-life milk, touristy gifts, and a small selection of fresh produce.
“I did.”
“So you noticed the amount of veggies available?”
“Lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers.”
“Yeah. A couple of each. How are you going to sustain your vegetarian lifestyle?”
Shannon would never admit she’d been disappointed in the selection or that he had a good point.
“I bought what I needed, so you can’t say there isn’t any produce.”
* * *
A day later, Shannon pressed the down button on the windlass, and the anchor chain clanged against the fiberglass slot that led the chain from midship to the bow as the anchor dropped. The anchor hit the sandy bottom eight feet below the surface and rolled point side down. To the east, Shroud Cay provided protection from the wind. To the west, the turquoise hue of the Bahama Banks sparkled underneath the sun. Ocean bling provided by nature.
At the helm, Jake shifted into a slow reverse, and Shannon let out more chain.
“Stop at fifty feet, and I’ll pull back hard,” Jake said.
Like I don’t know how to anchor. Mr. Captain always had to have the last word. He seemed to forget she knew how to sail, too. But since Debi hired him, he thought he was the boss.
“Yup. Got it.”
Peanut bounced on the trampoline, probably knowing the dinghy would be dropped not long after the anchor set, and she barked repeatedly.
“Stop that dog from barking,” Jake said.
Peanut squatted, and a damp yellow stain spread on the trampoline.
“You scared her. Don’t yell like that.”
“You’re way over sensitive about Piddles. She probably just needed to pee.”
“And stop calling her Piddles.”
“Anything you say, Champagne.”
“You don’t think we should have picked up a mooring ball?” Debi asked.
“No. As long as we’re clear of the mooring field, it doesn’t matter. You never know when the balls were last maintained. I trust the anchor.”
The rules in the Exuma Land & Sea Park told cruisers to pick up mooring balls, but Shannon had heard no one really cared until boats reached as far south as Cambridge Cay and the park headquarters. She was fine with anchoring.
Shannon walked along the starboard deck and stepped into the cockpit. She released the clamp holding one side of the dinghy to the davits and slowly lowered its rear end. She repeated the process with the bow until the dinghy floated flat in the water. Peanut jumped into the dinghy before the others had a chance to do the same.
The chart showed a system of rivers cutting through the mangroves and ending at the east side of the cay.
“Debi, wanna go for a ride up the mangroves?”
Debi grabbed her waterproof camera, a hat and a bottle of water.
“Let’s go.”
“Do I get to come, too?” Jake asked.
Shannon looked at her aunt and shook her head.
“Absolutely,” Debi said.
Jake’s brown eyes smiled when he looked at Debi. Something else filled them when he looked at Shannon. Irritation maybe?
Shannon steered the dinghy to the mouth of Sanctuary Creek. She slowed to an idle and headed toward the center of the chan
nel. She navigated by sight. The drifting sandbars changed the depth of the creek as it wound its way through the mangroves. The color of the water changed, and Shannon tilted the engine up and drove from a standing position.
A lemon shark pup scooted in front of the dinghy. “Check that out.” Shannon pointed just as the shark disappeared into the safety of the mangrove roots.
“Maybe it thinks we’re a large predator. It can hide in the woody fingers,” Jake said.
At the end of the mangroves, they beached the dinghy on Driftwood Beach, threw out the anchor, and let Peanut run free. They followed a trail to the top of a hill and found a pile of rocks and wood.
“Looks like the tradition is to paint your boat name on a piece of wood and leave it here,” Jake said.
Debi drew a deep breath and sagged to her knees. She gently picked up a piece of driftwood and held it to her chest. Shannon knew Waterfall must be painted on one side. One more piece of data to store away.
Jake seemed oblivious to what Debi was doing. He stared at a flat baseball sized rock. Nicole was written in elegant lettering on the smooth surface. A chain of hearts led to the other side.
“Someone you know?” Shannon asked.
“No. Just looking.” Jake lobbed the rock, which thumped on the ground and rolled over, displaying Bobby written on the flip side. The chain of hearts connected Bobby on one side to Nicole on the other. A waterfall was painted beside his name.
Shannon shook her head at Jake and bent beside Debi, blocking her view of the rock. She ran her fingers along the driftwood her aunt held.
“Let’s take this. It’s a nice reminder of Uncle Bobby.”
They made their way down the trail and stopped at the cut. The incoming tide pushed the water swiftly into the mangroves and winding creek.
Shannon stripped off her t-shirt, tested the string on her bikini, and jumped into the water.
“What are you doing?” Jake yelled.
“Come on. It’s like a waterslide.” The water grabbed Shannon and pushed her through the cut. She landed near the dinghy and headed back to jump in again, laughing as she ran.
“Do you have to do that?” Jake asked.
“What’s with you, Mr. Party Pooper? Come on, Debi.” Shannon pulled her by the wrist, determined to keep her from being sad over finding the driftwood. Adding to the excitement, whitecaps frothed at the cut entrance.
Shannon jumped farther than she intended, and the current pushed her against the rocks on the far side. Her forehead hit a rock, slicing her skin, and blood gushed from the wound.
She got disoriented, and the water dragged her in circles in an eddy. Jake reached her before she hit the rocks a second time and pulled her to shore.
“What’s with you? You could have been seriously hurt.”
Shannon sat on the shore and held her palm to her forehead. Mixed with salt water, the blood ran freely. “Wow. Why don’t you yell at me some more? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Jake passed her a towel from the dinghy. “Wipe it off, and let me look at it.”
Shannon cleaned her forehead.
Jake examined the wound. “It’s shallow and shouldn’t leave a scar. I told you not to go in.”
Jake’s fingers lifting her hair off her forehead made her skin tingle. She ignored her physical reaction. He was not the man for her. “No, you didn’t. You asked if I had to. That’s different. And besides, you don’t get to tell me what to do. Talk about an overreaction.”
“You have no idea. My fiancée…” Jake turned and punched his hand. “Adventurous women are really annoying.”
Shannon stayed silent for a moment. She placed her hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jake
Shroud Cay, Bahamas
The shakes forced Jake to sit as soon as they returned to A Dog’s Cat. Shannon’s wound wasn’t serious, so what was he so upset about?
No matter how hard he tried, he’d never forget Becky’s eyes just before she went under. She knew. He swore she’d known she only had seconds left. He’d had her hand in his, and she slipped loose. The raging water took her away from him and through the rapids. He grabbed the kid first. An instinct. Nothing more.
People had given him newspaper clippings touting what a true hero he was. He’d burned every one of them. Some asshole had used his cell to take a photo just as he lost contact with Becky’s hand. The anguish on his face was displayed on the front page of nation-wide newspapers. The worst was the YouTube video. Hero. Ha! Even videos lied.
Piddles followed him into his cabin and jumped onto his bed.
“Off,” he commanded, and Piddles peed on his pillow.
Shannon leaned her head down the stairway and laughed at him. “I told you not to yell at her. She doesn’t deal well with aggression.”
Piddles cowered in the corner of Jake’s bed with her tail between her legs. If Shannon hadn’t been standing behind him, he would have crawled onto the bed and hugged the dog. Instead, he said, “Can you get her out of here? And take the pillow.”
“You’re a grouch.”
Shannon’s shoulder rubbed against his, and the spark was undeniable. If the floor was carpeted, he could have blamed the sensation on static. She crawled onto his bed, showing off her muscular rear end, and worked her way toward Piddles, cooing the entire time. Piddles curled further into the corner, but Shannon coaxed her into her arms.
Jake backed up the companionway and waited in the salon. “How’s your head?”
“Fine.” Shannon carried Piddles and the pillow to the cockpit.
Jake followed. “You’re mad at me?”
Piddles wiggled closer to Shannon’s face and licked her cheek. “I’m not. But don’t yell at her.”
Debi joined them. “I think a beer is in order. Chill out, both of you.”
“I think we should go back to Norman’s Cay,” Shannon said.
Jake popped the tab on his beer and took a swig. The fridge had done its job, and the cold liquid felt refreshing going down. “Why? I thought you wanted to get the boat south.”
“I don’t want to rush through the Exumas,” Shannon said.
“Does this have anything to do with your uncle?” Jake asked.
Debi brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her bare shins. “What’s going on here? Why would this have something to do with Bobby?”
Jake ignored Debi and spoke to Shannon. “I overheard you asking the receptionist at Highbourne if Bobby had been there on Waterfall.”
Shannon peered at him over the top of her beer can. “So?”
“So, I’m not stupid. It’s time you ladies were honest with me.”
“Honest about what?” Debi asked.
“Shannon knows what I’m talking about. She’s on a mission to find out what happened to Bobby. The question is are you, too?”
In what Jake thought was feigned innocence, Debi said, “I just want to follow his trail. There’s nothing sinister going on.”
Jake canted his head and gave her his best you-must-be-joking expression. “I used to be a cop, remember? You think I didn’t check you out before I took this job?”
“There’s no mystery here. Bobby drowned. You should understand what that feels like.”
Ouch. The barbs were out. Jake ignored the uncharacteristic nastiness from Debi and turned back to Shannon. “Why Norman’s?”
“There’s a bar there. Maybe someone remembers Uncle Bobby.”
“What do you think happened to him?” Jake asked Debi.
“I think he was alone on the boat and fell overboard.”
The lack of details bothered Jake. “How come you don’t know where he went on Waterfall?”
“I don’t know. I stopped hearing from him.”
“Is that why you kept asking about Wi-Fi at Highbourne?” he asked Shannon.
“Yes.”
“You think there was a reason he didn’t contact Debi?”
“Are you trying to find the boat?” Jake asked Debi.
Debi petted Piddles, straightened her collar then made eye contact with him. “That’s not likely. If Bobby fell overboard with the sails set, it could be anywhere, including at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Then what do you want?” Jake persisted, even though the spears from Shannon’s glare pricked his skin.
Debi intertwined her fingers, rested her head on the top of her knees, and studied her knuckles.
“We started dating when we were sixteen. We’ve been together for twenty-eight years. I need to know how he spent his last couple of months.”
“I thought you got together when you were eighteen,” Shannon said.
“Oh, you know how it goes. We were on again-off again for a couple of years.”
“I want to help Aunt Debi find out where he traveled.”
“I thought we agreed to drop the aunt.”
“Sorry. It’s a hard habit to break.”
Jake focused on Debi. “Do you really want to trace his path? This isn’t just to make Shannon happy?”
“I guess. Our dream was to cruise together. When I started this, I just wanted to experience part of what he’d done. Shannon just…”
“Shannon just what?”
Debi looked to Shannon.
“My parents died in a car crash when I was young. I lived with Debi and Uncle Bobby from when I was ten until I went to university. I lost my father, and Uncle Bobby was there for me. I need some closure.”
“Then we have something in common. My parents were killed in a car accident, too. I get where you’re coming from.”
“Then we can go north?” Shannon asked.
“You’re doing this for Shannon?” he asked Debi.
“And for me.”
* * *
“The wind is from the east at seventeen knots. Wanna head to Norman’s this morning?” Jake asked Debi. A Dog’s Cat rested at anchor a hundred feet off the mangroves at Shroud Cay. He sipped his coffee, enjoyed the aroma, and let the early morning sun warm his face.
Look the Other Way Page 6