Stormcatcher

by Colleen Rhoads

  Becca shook her head. “It was a beautiful summer day. Light breeze, blue skies. No reason for the boat to be in danger. Simon checked different ports but no one had seen them. Everyone assumed it was just Jerry pulling another of his stunts. We all thought he’d be back when he was ready. He’d done it before, and he was the primary owner of the business. Simon just dabbles for fun. He was left a boatload of money by his parents.”

  “Still, I would have thought they would have looked for a wreck.”

  “I think the old sheriff did a cursory flyover of the area, but when nothing turned up, we all assumed he’d return when he was ready,” Becca said. “Maybe he’d made it to port somewhere and garaged it.”

  “No wonder Simon was upset. Does he still think Amanda was with him? Maybe she’s dead, too.”

  “Maybe. I’m sure the sheriff will figure it out,” Max said. “Now what was all that shared history about? I take it you knew him as a kid?”

  Wynne knew Simon wouldn’t want her blabbing. “I had a fearsome crush on him when I was a kid, like twelve or thirteen. He was five years older than me so I was just in the way.” Remembering the way she’d chased after him made her face burn. How childish.

  “What was his nickname?” Max smiled as his daughter cooed.

  Wynne shook her head. “I think he wouldn’t want me to say.”

  “Since when does that stop you?” Becca said. She handed the baby to Max. “Are you really going to hire on as cook?”

  Wynne smiled. “I think he was kidding, but I might do it if he’s serious. You think I’m nuts?”

  “You always do the unexpected.” Becca handed her daughter a rattle. “But watch out. Simon has broken more hearts than I can count.”

  “Hey, not on purpose,” Max protested. “He never tries to attract them. But he’s a good-looking guy.”

  “And he has money,” Becca added. “A lethal combination.”

  “My heart is safe,” Wynne assured them. “I’m not missing this new project for anyone. I had to fight tooth and nail for my spot.”

  “Oh? Did it get vicious?” Becca’s eyes were avid with curiosity.

  “You might say that.” Wynne didn’t like to think about it. Pain squeezed her lungs.

  “Did you call Jackson back?” Becca asked.

  Her sister must have read her mind. Wynne shook her head. “I have nothing more to say to him.”

  “He called twice yesterday.”

  “Just tell him I don’t want to talk to him.” If she ever saw Jackson Country again, it would be too soon. He’d tried to torpedo her career once too often. She wouldn’t put it past him to take her place on this new project even now. Once their romance was over, it was as if he was determined to bury her and any shred of her reputation.

  TWO

  The boatyard was deserted except for Brian’s blue truck. Simon skirted several yachts in various stages of construction. He followed the sound of the hammer and the smell of sawdust. He found his cousin pounding nails into a prop under a yacht that looked nearly finished.

  The back of Brian’s blue chambray shirt was soaked with perspiration. He was two years younger than Simon, and people often thought Simon, Jerry and Brian were brothers instead of cousins. They had the Lassiter broad shoulders and long legs. Brian’s hair was a shade lighter than Jerry’s and Simon’s, but the three had the same shaped nose and cleft chin.

  On Brian it had always seemed weak and ineffectual. Jerry had been the best-looking of the three, but if Brian had noticed, he’d never shown he minded the way women threw themselves at his brother and looked right past him. The whole family had always been in Jerry’s thrall.

  Simon stood and watched him for a moment. He dreaded telling his cousin the news. The two of them were all that were left of the younger Lassiters now. Simon was an only child, and now Brian had no siblings as well. Simon still couldn’t believe it.

  Brian paused to wipe his forehead and saw Simon. The welcoming smile faltered as he took in his cousin’s expression. “What’s wrong?” Brian laid down the hammer and came toward him.

  Simon forced the words out. “It’s Jerry. He’s been found.”

  Brian’s dark eyes widened. “Found? He’s back on the island or still off partying?”

  Stupid. He should have watched his words. Simon shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I’m not being clear. His body has been found. The sheriff just called me.”

  Brian flinched. He dropped his head. “No.” He backed away. “He’s not dead!”

  “I’m sorry, Brian.” Simon swallowed the lump that had formed like a boulder in his throat. He put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

  Brian’s eyes shimmered with moisture. He wiped his hand over his forehead. “And the boat?”

  “No sign of it. The storm probably shook Jerry’s body loose.” He squeezed Brian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I thought for sure he’d show up when he was ready.”

  Brian pounded his fist against the wooden hull. He pinched the bridge of his nose and visibly struggled for control.

  Simon wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how. “You okay?” he muttered, ill at ease.

  Brian took a deep breath. “Thanks, Simon. Jerry was always so full of life. I just didn’t want to believe he could die.” His voice was low. “I guess I have to go identify the body.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Simon said.

  Brian shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for being the one to break the news.”

  “No problem. If you need to talk later, call me.” He knew Brian wouldn’t call though. His cousin was a private man and kept his problems to himself.

  Brian nodded. “I’d better call the sheriff and find out where he wants to meet.” He went to the building.

  Simon watched him, shoulders slumped and his steps slow, as he went up the steps and inside. He clenched his hands. If only there was something he could do. His cousins had looked up to him for guidance all their lives, and it felt wrong to be bereft of any possibility of fixing things.

  There was one thing he could do. He could find the yacht that carried Jerry to his cold grave and figure out what went wrong. Brian could carry on here at the shipyard for a while without him. He could work on finding the Superior Lady in the day.

  His flagging spirits rose at the thought of action. He jogged to his boat and fired up the engine. His first stop would be to talk to the sheriff about where Jerry’s body had been found.

  The light was dying in the west, letting a cool breeze waft through its gold and red fingers. Goosebumps rose on Wynne’s arms, and she rubbed them. She and her sister sat on the porch swing, the silence between them comfortable.

  Through the open window, the TV blared as Molly, Max’s 6-year-old daughter from his first marriage, watched a family comedy with her father. The baby was asleep, and this time with her sister felt as precious as a Spanish doubloon.

  Becca broke the silence. “What did you think of Simon?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Wynne looked her sister in the face. “Are you matchmaking?”

  Becca’s face took on an innocence. “Who, me? Of course not. But Max might be.”

  Wynne laughed, and kicked the swing into motion with her bare foot. “Simon seemed eager to get away from me. Maybe he thinks I’m still mooning over him. It might be interesting to look for some shipwrecks out there. Though I don’t think we’re going to find any Viking ship.”

  “Probably not,” Becca agreed. “Max and I think the world of Simon. You could do worse.”

  “You’re like a tenacious crab. I’m not interested in Simon.”

  “Did someone mention my name?” Simon materialized from the deepening shadows in the front yard.

  Wynne nearly climbed up the porch railing. “You scared the life out of me! I didn’t hear your truck.”

  He grinned, his teeth shining white in the dim light. “Sorry. I walked. Is Max around? I need to talk to him.”

  “He’s watching TV with Molly.�
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  Becca waited until Simon was inside the house. “Wonder what he wants? It didn’t seem like a social call.”

  Wynne shrugged. “Maybe he’s found Atlantis or something.”

  Her sister yanked on Wynne’s braid. “He’s not that crazy.”

  “You couldn’t convince me,” Wynne said, following her into the house. “Maybe it’s about his cousin.”

  “Maybe,” Becca said.

  “Did you know Amanda?” Wynne had been curious about the woman Simon had chosen. She couldn’t imagine someone throwing a man like Simon away. But maybe his cousin Jerry had been an exceptional man, too.

  “Yeah.”

  “You sound less than enamored of her.” Now Wynne was really curious. Becca liked everyone.

  “Let’s just say she always seemed to be looking out for herself.”

  “How did you know her?”

  “She and I use the same hairdresser.”

  “Well, how unusual when there are only two on the island,” Wynne teased. “Did you ever talk to her?”

  “Once or twice. All she ever wanted to talk about was fashion and jewelry. She flashed around that fancy ring Simon bought her and talked about the big house they were going to build. It was pretty obvious money was all-important to her.”

  “Simon seems too smart to have let himself be caught by a money monger.”

  “She was good at covering it with me. I saw her in the café a time or two with Simon, and she was as sweet as pie. Kind to the waitress, that sort of thing. She knew how to work men.”

  “I wonder how long it would have taken Simon to see through her?”

  “Men can be so blind when a beautiful woman is involved.”

  “Is that a trace of bitterness I hear?” Wynne asked, laughing.

  “Well, you have to admit that men weren’t beating down my door.”

  “Only because you hid your beauty.”

  “At my height, I wasn’t hiding anything,” Becca said dryly.

  “At least Max was clever enough to recognize how smart and truly lovely you are.”

  “Spoken like a loyal sister,” Becca said, laughing.

  “Do you sometimes pinch yourself when you think of how your life has changed?” Wynne couldn’t hide the wistful tone in her voice. She was thrilled her sister and brother were happily settled, but sometimes she felt like she was in the dark looking into a warmly lit house.

  Becca stretched. “It’s like a dream world. I’m so happy. Sometimes I wake up in the night and just watch Max sleeping. I listen to Isabelle on the baby monitor and know all is right with my world. God is so good.”

  “Yes, He is,” Wynne agreed. It felt like lip service though. She’d given God so little thought lately. She knew she needed to find a better balance with her life, but it was hard not to let busyness take over.

  “You sound a little glum.”

  “Just a little introspective.” Wynne forced a smile. “What do you think happened to Superior Lady? Simon seemed shocked it could have sunk.”

  “I am, too. It was a great boat. Max wanted to have one like it built.”

  “I suppose the sheriff will figure it out.” Wynne frowned when she remembered the tension in Simon’s voice when he talked to the sheriff.

  “Oh, Mitch Rooney will be pursuing it hard and heavy.” Becca’s voice was grim.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He has a personal stake in it. But I’d rather not talk about that. We’ve gossiped enough, I’m going to have to repent as it is.”

  “Do you think he suspects foul play?” Wynne hadn’t thought of that possibility until now. She moved uneasily.

  “Oh, no, surely not.”

  Her sister’s tone didn’t sound all that convincing. Would Simon be a suspect if Jerry’s death was deemed a homicide? Wynne knew it was a stupid thought. Of course he would. Someone close to the victim was always considered the first suspect to look at.

  Who really knew what lay behind another person’s smile? Over the years, Wynne had found the people you were most prone to trust were often the very ones who stabbed you in the back.

  But murder was a different story.

  “I don’t think Simon would kill anyone,” she said.

  “You sound like you know him pretty well. What’s your history with him? You said you had a crush on him? Did you spend much time with him?”

  “I followed him around for four summers.” Wynne gave a rueful laugh. “The last summer—it was when I was twelve—he tolerated my tagging along. We tramped through the woods. He was working on a science project. He loved animals. A person like that doesn’t commit murder.”

  “I wonder if you’ve gotten over that crush yet.” Becca’s voice was soft.

  Wynne laughed. “Oh, no, I was just a kid.”

  “We’ll see,” Becca said. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  THREE

  “I need you, Max,” Simon pleaded. He hated to beg.

  “Steve gave me the names of other divers who might take his place, but no one could do it. I could dive alone, I guess.” Everything in him cringed at the thought. He wasn’t sure he was ready to go down.

  “Absolutely not. You know that’s not safe. There must be someone. You know I’d do it if I could.” Max handed Simon a cup of coffee. “I’ve got several meetings on the mainland this week.”

  “I’ve got to have a diver.” It was all Simon could do to sit still when everything in him cried out for action.

  “Have you even been down since…?” He broke off his tentative question.

  Simon hesitated, then shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Max gave him a kind look. “You need to climb back on that pony, Simon. It was a fluke. You’ve been a diver for years. Don’t let one bad experience sap your joy.”

  Simon hunched his shoulders. “I know—I’ll get back down there. I have no choice now.” The thought of putting on his gear and going under the waves again made him nearly gasp for breath. He didn’t like to think of how he’d been trapped in a cave underwater for half an hour, how his oxygen was almost gone and spots had danced in front of his eyes like fish peering at him through his mask.

  “Wynne could do it,” Becca said from the doorway. She tugged Wynne into the room behind her.

  Wynne was shaking her head even as Simon turned eagerly. “I’ve only got eight weeks until I have to be in Australia. I’d rather spend my time looking for an old ship. I’m sorry for your loss, Simon, but surely you can find someone else.”

  Simon looked at her. The red top she wore made her hair look even darker and more lustrous. His gaze fell to her bare feet. He had the feeling she would be comfortable in bare feet even at a fancy dinner.

  He dragged his gaze back to her face. Something about those bare feet made him feel nostalgic and tender. He didn’t care for the sensation. “I have to have someone. I’ll pay you well.”

  She chewed on her lip. “I don’t need the money.”

  He wanted to tell her she was being selfish, but bit back the words. “This is important. And you’d already agreed to be my cook.”

  “I thought you were joking, and that was when we were looking for something ancient anyway. Besides, your cousin’s body has already been found. Why are you so keen to find the boat?”

  “There has to be some reason for it to have gone down. There was no storm, no reason for it to sink.”

  “Faulty design?” she suggested. “I heard it was a prototype.”

  He jerked his head up. “I would have felt comfortable putting the president on that boat. It was a sound design. Innovative, yes, but safe.”

  “Yeah, like the Titanic, huh?”

  He didn’t dare answer her jibe or he knew he’d say more than he should and ruin all chance that she might help him.

  “Wynne,” Becca said in a reproachful voice.

  A look of contrition crossed her face. “Sorry, Simon. You’ve just lost your cousin, and I think you’re reacting to the stress of
that. I just meant the Titanic incident proves you can never say a boat is safe. Things happen. You can’t change this tragedy.”

  “I need to find out what happened to the boat.”

  “What happens when you find it? The sheriff will be looking, too.”

  “I can at least look around outside without bothering anything. We’ll call Rooney and he can get someone inside to figure out what happened.”

  She pulled her long braid over her shoulder and sighed. “Okay, I’ll help you. I’m sorry if I seemed unsympathetic. I’m not sure what you hope to discover, but I’ll do what I can.” A dimple appeared in her cheek. “I don’t have to cook?”

  He grinned. “I’m not averse to peanut butter sandwiches.” He almost wanted to take back his plea for her help. Something inside shouted danger, though he couldn’t see how this diminutive young woman could threaten him. Their shared history was a long time ago.

  “It will be long, hard days,” he warned.

  Her smile faded, and red stained her cheeks. “You sound like you’re trying to talk me out of it. Having second thoughts?”

  He hadn’t meant to offend her, but her composure bothered him. Something about her demeanor made him feel she was secretly laughing at him. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and in this instance, he needed her help. “You’re hired,” he said.

  “I don’t expect wages,” she said. “But if you’ll agree to help me search for older wrecks when this is all over, I’d be grateful.”

  “I’ll pay you,” he said. He felt out of control and didn’t like the sensation. She didn’t seem to care about who he was or how much he was worth. He reminded himself how he’d been wishing he could have a relationship like that.

  Not that this was a relationship.

  “What time should I meet you in the morning?” Wynne asked.

  “Could you make it by seven?”

  “It will be light by six.” Her tone was almost a challenge.

  “I’m an early riser. I’ll see you at six.”