Stormcatcher

by Colleen Rhoads

  He took his leave of Max and Becca and started toward town. The moon glimmered on Lake Superior as he walked along the shore drive. Craggy rocks and peaks loomed across the bay, their shadows reminding Simon of breaching whales or the Ojibwa thunderbird swooping low over the waves.

  For a moment it seemed like an omen, then he shook off his fancies and turned toward home.

  Wynne yawned as she sat on the balcony outside her bedroom and watched the sun come up. Her thick hair was still damp, but she braided it anyway, then wound it around the crown of her head and secured it with pins so it would stay out of her way.

  She couldn’t deny she was excited about what the day would bring. Watching Superior’s waves crash against the rocks for the past few days had made her itch to be out on the water. Now she would get her chance. She didn’t think they’d find anything out there, but much as she loved her family, she had chafed at the inactivity.

  The putt-putt of a boat engine out on Superior drifted in her window, and she squinted at the white dot in the horizon as it made its way over the waves. Looked like the ferry. The sound brought back memories of riding the ferry every summer. She still could hardly believe she was here again.

  The wind would likely be cool out on the Lake, so she pulled jeans and a long-sleeved cotton top over her modest swimsuit, then slid her feet into canvas mules. She met her sister with Isabelle in her arms on the verandah.

  Becca’s gaze roved over Wynne’s face. “You look like you didn’t sleep much last night.”

  Wynne grimaced. “Do I look that bad?”

  “It would be impossible for you to look bad. You’ve just got shadows under your eyes. You nervous about going out with Simon?”

  “No, I just had trouble sleeping.” No way was she telling her sister the dream she’d had about Simon last night. Wynne took the baby and cuddled her. Isabelle put two fingers in her mouth and gave a contented sigh as she snuggled against Wynne’s shoulder.

  Becca looked at her watch. “I wonder where Max is. He’s late.”

  “Is someone taking my name in vain?” Max asked, stepping through the sliding glass doors onto the verandah.

  Becca kissed him. “I was just beginning to wonder where you were.” She led him to the glass-topped table, already set with breakfast.

  Wynne followed. She felt a little lonely watching them. She told her sister she didn’t intend to get involved with a man, but seeing the love and closeness Becca and Max enjoyed made her realize how sterile her own life was.

  Still, marriage would be a huge compromise, right? She’d have to give up adventure and new discovery for a relationship like theirs, and she didn’t think she could do it. Though her brother Jake had managed.

  He had sure stumbled into a sweet setup, and he was still engrossed in the dig on the other side of the island. But when it was finished, would he be willing to settle down on the island and never crave a new thrill? Wynne didn’t think so. Maybe she would stop over and see him and his bride that night when she got back.

  She inhaled the sweet scent of baby powder. Maybe motherhood would be worth what she’d have to give up. She deposited Isabelle in her infant seat and slid into her chair. She’d likely never find out.

  “It seems quiet with Gram gone.” Their grandmother had gone on a trip with her best friend. She would be back in a few days.

  Max nodded. “Going out with Simon today, right?”

  “I guess.”

  Max raised his head at her tone. “You’re going to like him when you get to know him. Just don’t—” He broke off.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Max,” Becca said in a warning voice.

  Wynne could hear the vibes. “What’s going on?”

  Becca gave a heavy sigh. She glanced at Wynne. “He was about to say keep it friends.”

  “You already told me.” Surely she hadn’t been sending out signals where Simon could get that notion.

  “It’s just—” Becca bit her lip and looked down.

  “Just what?”

  “We didn’t talk about it enough earlier. I wanted you to be on your guard. All the women fall for Simon,” Max said. “He’s rich. Obscenely so. But that just makes him more wary of motives. We don’t want to see you hurt. He’s a great guy and all, but I doubt he’ll ever let down his guard enough to fall for a woman.”

  “He fell for Amanda.”

  “I don’t think he did, not really. I think he decided it was time to get married, and she seemed a likely candidate.”

  “That sounds a little cold.” Wynne frowned and stabbed at a piece of melon. Simon hadn’t struck her as the passionless type.

  “Simon always considers things carefully. When he found out Becca was pregnant, I think it made him think of what he was missing.” Max gave her a smile. “Just be on your guard. I don’t want you hurt.”

  Wynne smiled. “Money doesn’t impress me. And if you want the truth, Simon’s type doesn’t appeal to me at all. My heart is in no danger.” Even as she said it, she knew she was kidding herself. His magnetism had grown stronger over the years.

  After breakfast she walked down to the dock and waited. Simon should be along any minute. She heard the rumble of his boat mingled with the gentle sound of the surf. He waved, and she fluttered her fingers. Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she went to the edge of the dock.

  The white shorts he wore showed off strong, tanned legs, and his muscles flexed against his red shirt as he tossed her the rope to tie up. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight. Her stomach felt funny. Maybe she was coming down with a bug because it surely couldn’t be excitement over such a mundane search. When his hazel eyes met her gaze, she felt a shock of something she didn’t want to name. The same something that had drawn her when she was a kid and he was a teenager.

  Stupid. Even if she were interested—and she was not—he was way above her social status, as Max and Becca had pointed out. And the last thing she was going to do was make him think she was interested.

  “Have trouble rolling out of bed?” she asked him. “It’s six-fifteen.” He smiled. She’d never noticed he had a dimple in his chin.

  “Holding me to a schedule? I thought I was the boss.”

  Her smile faltered. He was making sure she knew her place. Before she could construct a reply, she heard a shout behind her and turned to look.

  A man she’d never seen jogged toward them. About thirty, he had a shock of brown hair that hugged his head in tight curls. He looked nice and ordinary.

  “Brian, what are you doing here?” Simon called. He stepped from the boat to the dock.

  Brian was out of breath when he reached them. “Glad I caught you. You can’t leave yet. The sheriff is on his way.”

  Simon frowned. “Can’t you handle it?”

  The other man shook his head. “He said he needed to talk to you.” His eyes widened when he saw Wynne, and he smiled. “Hello, I don’t think we’ve met.”

  Wynne took the hand he extended. “Hi. Wynne Baxter.”

  “Jake and Becca’s sister?”

  She nodded. “Don’t hold that against me.” She pulled her hand from his grasp. The admiration in his glance warmed her, especially after Simon’s caustic greeting.

  “I’ve heard them talk about you. I’m Brian Lassiter, Simon’s cousin.” He stared at her.

  Frowning, Simon cleared his throat. He shuffled from foot to foot and stared from Wynne to Brian and back to Wynne. What was his problem? Did he think his cousin was too good for her, too? She smiled up at Brian. Let Simon stew.

  “You should stop by and see our boats sometime.” Brian stepped to the Thunderbird and touched her hull. “This is just a sample of our work.”

  Wynne hadn’t examined the boat before, so she followed Brian and looked over the lines of the craft. “She’s beautiful. Did you design her?”

  Brian nodded. “I’m the main designer. My brother also—” He stopped and looked down.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” W
ynne said gently.

  Brian looked up again. “Thanks. It’s been a shock.”

  Wynne wondered what Simon did in the business. And why bother with all his money? “What’s your job?” she asked him.

  Brian answered for his cousin. “Simon takes care of the office. He counts the beans, or rather oversees the bean counters.”

  “Those beans could be better. This accident won’t help,” Simon said. He folded his arms across his chest.

  Brian frowned and the open expression on his face closed.

  Wynne could tell Brian didn’t want to talk about the state of the business. She smiled uncertainly and tried to think of something else to say.

  Gravel crunched beneath a vehicle’s tires, and Wynne shaded her eyes with her hand. The sheriff had arrived. She watched Sheriff Rooney vault out of the car and hurry toward them.

  “Glad I caught you,” he huffed. “I need you to come down to the morgue.”

  Simon’s restless movements stilled. “What’s wrong?”

  “We got another body.” He gave Simon a glowering look. “It’s Amanda.”

  “Amanda,” Simon said slowly.

  Rooney’s gaze roamed over Simon’s face. “Her parents are dead and her brother’s on the mainland until tomorrow, so I guess you get elected as her next-of-kin for identification purposes. I need you to come down to the morgue.”

  By his tone, the sheriff seemed to be accusing Simon of something. His jaw was clenched, and he kept cracking his knuckles.

  “Sure.” Simon glanced at Wynne. “I’ll call before I leave the morgue. I shouldn’t be long.”

  “No problem.” Wynne watched them walk away. The day seemed suddenly overcast, and she rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms. She didn’t see how this new discovery could affect her, but she was convinced it was going to.

  FOUR

  Wynne’s toes were frozen from their contact with the frigid water. Even in the summer, Lake Superior felt like melted snow. Gulls cawed overhead, and the sound of the surf soothed her, but the throb of a laboring motor soon drowned out the comforting noises.

  She squinted against the sun in her eyes and stood. A boat limped toward the dock. The engine sounded like it was hitting on only two cylinders. The boat would be lucky to make it to the dock.

  She raised her hand. “Ahoy. Do you need assistance?”

  A man on the deck waved his hand over his head. The wind snatched his words away. Wynne hurried to the end of the dock and watched as the boat moved slowly toward her. When it came in range, the man tossed the rope to her. It fell into the lake, and she knelt to retrieve it from the cold water.

  Tying it to the pier, she pulled on it to help guide the boat to the dock then wrapped the rope snug.

  “Thanks.” The man hopped ashore. Another man began to poke around at the motor while a woman about Wynne’s age wrote in a log.

  “I didn’t think I was going to make it.” The man was about forty with salt-and-pepper hair and shrewd blue eyes. His ruddy complexion had seen too much sun and wind. He held out his hand. “Mike Wilson.”

  She put her hand in his. “Wynne Baxter.”

  “Baxter. You must be the marine archaeologist I’ve heard about. I was thinking of calling you and seeing if you’d be interested in a summer job.”

  “You’re on a marine archaeology dig?” Wynne was intrigued. She hadn’t thought anyone was working in this area.

  “Not exactly. I’m into ship salvage. Your expertise in locating sunken ships would help me find some wrecks. I need some help.”

  Wynne wrinkled her nose. “No thanks. No offense, but gutting our national treasures is the last thing I’d want to do.” She expected him to get angry, but she didn’t care.

  He merely smiled. “I could make it worth your while.”

  “So you can sell the stuff to private investors?” She shook her head. “No thanks. I’d rather see my finds end up in museums where everyone can enjoy them.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, here’s my card.” He handed her a card that read Wilson Salvage.

  “We’ve got it fixed, boss,” the man at the engine called.

  “I’d better get going,” Wilson said. “Thanks for your time.” He touched the bill of his ball cap then swung his long legs onto the deck of his boat.

  Wynne wondered if they’d have future trouble with Mike Wilson. What if he found Superior Lady before they did? There was expensive technology on that yacht.

  Simon shivered, not so much from the cold, sterile feel of the morgue, but from the dread that congealed in his stomach at what he was going to have to do. He followed Mitch Rooney down the colorless hall to the door at the end.

  “In here.” The sheriff held open the door. His stare held a trace of hostility.

  Simon drew in a deep breath and forced himself to step into the room. Sweat broke out on his forehead in spite of the chill in the room. The coroner pulled back the sheet that covered the face of the figure on the table.

  Simon sucked in his breath. “That’s Amanda.” He turned and bolted from the room, his stomach rebelling at the sight of the woman he’d thought to spend the rest of his life with. In the hallway, he leaned his forehead against the wall and tried to calm himself.

  He sensed rather than heard the sheriff follow him. Swiping the back of his hand over his forehead, he turned to stare into the sheriff’s face. He saw no sympathy in the man’s expression.

  “I’d like to ask you some questions,” Rooney said.

  “Fine.” Simon squared his shoulders and followed him to a small room.

  The sheriff stepped to a metal cart that held a coffeepot and foam cups. “Coffee?”

  “That’d be good.” A shot of caffeine might strengthen him for what lay ahead. He could tell by the sheriff’s manner that he was set to grill him.

  The sheriff poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Simon. “Have a seat.” He indicated two straight-backed chairs with worn seats in the corner.

  Simon sat and took a sip of his coffee. The heat hit his stomach and began to thaw the ice running through his body.

  The sheriff sat beside him. “When was the last time you saw your fiancée?”

  “The day before she disappeared. Three months ago.”

  “Did you argue?”

  Simon wished he didn’t have to answer. “Yeah.”

  “Did she break off your engagement?” Rooney sounded hopeful.

  “No.” Simon perched his cup on his knee and stared into the dark liquid. He didn’t dare tell the sheriff the specifics about their argument. The man would arrest him on the spot. “She said she’d see me in the morning.”

  “Where were you going to meet?”

  “At the boat dock. We were going out for lunch. When I arrived, her car was there, but she wasn’t. Jerry’s car was there as well, but Superior Lady was gone. A fisherman on the dock told me she’d gone out with Jerry and she’d taken a suitcase.”

  “Did you try to find them?”

  Simon nodded. “I tried to raise them on the radio, but Jerry never answered.”

  “You didn’t go after them?”

  “I tried but didn’t find any sign of them.”

  “I’m sure you were angry.”

  “I spent three days looking for them until I realized they’d run off together.” Simon shrugged. “It had happened before. Jerry always liked what someone else had.”

  “Kind of like you,” Rooney sneered.

  Simon had been trying to keep his cool, but Rooney’s attitude was getting to him. Their history might get in the way of the investigation. He shot the sheriff a hard look. “Look, let’s just get this out in the open. You don’t like me. I understand that. But let’s keep it to business, okay?”

  Rooney’s mouth tightened. “Fine,” he said in a clipped tone. “Sounds like you disliked your cousin.”

  Simon blew out his breath. “Not at all. We were like brothers. I knew his faults just like he knew mine, but I loved him anyway.” Simon swa
llowed as memories assailed him. Jerry laughing from the treehouse they’d built when Simon was ten; his excitement when they graduated from high school; the light in his eyes when he came up with the design for the Superior Lady. He’d been so sure blue skies were ahead and the three of them would be famous. Instead, he’d gone out on Superior and had never come home. The futility of it all made Simon curl his fingers into his palms.

  “Do you have any idea what could have happened to the boat—what caused it to sink?”

  Simon shook his head. “It was innovative but safe. And the weather was perfect when they disappeared. That’s why I was so certain Jerry had just gone off with Amanda. There was no reason for them to have had trouble out on the lake.”

  Sheriff Rooney stood and tossed his cup into the trash. “I’m sure I’ll have more questions later so don’t plan on taking any trips. Something smells fishy in all this, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Has the coroner determined the cause of death for Jerry or Amanda?”

  “Not yet. But he will.”

  The words sounded ominous the way he said them.

  “I had nothing to do with their deaths.” Simon knew his protestations of innocence wouldn’t sway the sheriff, but he had to say them anyway. “Something must have gone wrong with the boat.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

  The sheriff’s gaze sharpened. “Sabotage maybe?” he said, his voice deceptively soft.

  “No, I mean a problem….” Simon’s voice trailed away. The reality was there was no reason for the boat to have gone down. It was sound with a great engine they’d used on other boats.

  “An engine explosion?”

  “I don’t see how,” Simon admitted. “It had one of the best engines on it.”

  “Sabotage,” the sheriff said again. “But you don’t want to admit that. I wonder why?” His tone indicated he was already sure of the reason.

  Simon drained his cup and tossed it into the trash. He wished he could get rid of the sheriff’s suspicion as easily.

  Wynne had plopped back on the dock, but her backside was starting to hurt from her hard seat. Glancing at her watch, she saw that Simon had been gone for an hour and a half. Surely he’d be back shortly. She should have gone back to Windigo Manor for a while, but the day was too beautiful to be spent inside. At least out there, she could feel the sun on her face and smell the scent of the lake.