Stormcatcher

by Colleen Rhoads

  “So what should I do?” he finished.

  “The truth is always good,” Max said. “God honors truth above all things. If you’re wise, you get on board with what He thinks.”

  “The truth will land me in jail.”

  “I think it’s a risk you have to take. Truth generally will win out.”

  “That’s easy for you to say when you’re not the one facing murder charges.” Simon had thought Max would tell him to keep his mouth shut and find the real killer. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  “As the truth comes out, the sheriff will be able to follow leads to the real killer. As long as he’s sure it’s you, he won’t be looking in the right places. You owe it to Jerry and Amanda to do what you can to bring their killer to justice.”

  Simon moved restlessly. “We don’t even know for sure it was murder.”

  “Sure you do. Why else would your crew have been attacked and your equipment vandalized?”

  “Maybe it was the drug dealers the Coast Guard was looking for.”

  “You don’t believe that. Truth, Simon. Look for truth in all things.”

  “I’ll think about it.” But Simon wasn’t sure he was ready to tell Rooney everything. He couldn’t do anything from jail.

  TWELVE

  Wynne jiggled baby Isabelle on her knees as she waited for breakfast on the patio. She felt uneasy that morning. Since she and Simon had parted on such ugly terms, she wasn’t sure if she should try to meet him at the dock or not. She wanted to find the truth.

  “Why the long face?” Max asked, dropping into the chair beside her. Isabelle smiled and gurgled at the sight of her father. She reached pudgy hands for him, and Max took her and snuggled her against his chest.

  “What did you and Simon talk about last night?” Wynne blurted out.

  Max took a moment before he answered her. “You know I can’t talk about a discussion that was in confidence.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I want to trust Simon, continue the work. We found the boat, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “I saw a blip on the radar, and we stopped to check it out.”

  “You saw the blip, not Simon?”

  His question brought up something she’d buried. She was the one who’d spotted the boat, and it had been found in an area Simon had discounted. Was it coincidence, or had he steered them away from where he knew the boat lay?

  “I can see the wheels turning. What is it?” Max asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. The last thing she wanted to do was turn Max against Simon.

  “Truth is always best,” Max said gently.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. She bit her lip. “We found the boat in an area I’d suggested we search and Simon nixed. It was a fluke I was looking at the computer screen as we headed back to shore.”

  “And you think that makes Simon guilty?” Max shook his head and handed his daughter a rattle. “There’s much more to this story than you know. Press Simon for the truth.”

  “I don’t think he’ll talk to me.”

  “You might be surprised.”

  “I’m not sure I want to get involved.”

  “You are already involved. Simon isn’t guilty, Wynne. I can guarantee you that. This is one of those times when you have to trust your gut instincts. I don’t believe you really think Simon is guilty.”

  “What if my gut instincts aren’t very good? My track record is lousy when it comes to men. I think all men are like my brother, and don’t see their faults until it’s too late.”

  “Simon is as fine a man as I’ve ever met. You can trust him.”

  “I’m not sure I’m convinced, but I’ll hang around for the endgame,” Wynne said. She stood. “I’d better get to the dock if I’m going to catch a ride out to the site.”

  “Good luck. Becca and I will be praying.”

  Wynne lifted her hand in acknowledgement, then headed to her car. If she’d told Simon she was still a team player last night, he would have picked her up at the Windigo Manor dock. She just hoped she could catch him before he shoved off.

  Saturday shoppers clogged the narrow streets of Turtle Town. Wynne parked in the gravel lot overlooking the bay, then hurried down the steps to the dock. She scanned the men along the boardwalk, but she didn’t see Simon’s familiar thatch of hair. Glancing around the moored boats, she spotted his boat. Good, she hadn’t missed her ride.

  She stepped over looped hanks of rope and fishing tackle boxes as she maneuvered to the boat. It bobbed in its mooring. There was no sign of life aboard. She stepped onto the deck. “Hello? Simon, are you here?”

  She felt strangely uneasy. There was a waiting feeling on the boat, a presence that raised the hair on the back of her neck. She told herself she was being fanciful, but she wanted to flee. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she moved toward the helm. Something crunched under her feet, and she looked down to find shards of glass on the deck. Her gaze traveled to the cabinet where the sonar equipment was stored.

  The cabinet lock was busted, and pieces of the sonar were scattered on the deck. The computer monitor was smashed, the glass underfoot part of the monitor. Her blood began to pound through her chest, and she breathed in short gasps. Was the vandal still aboard?

  She backed away from the mess as a figure came at her from the galley area. He wore a stocking over his face, but even if he hadn’t, he moved too quickly for her to get more than just an impression of height and breadth. She put out her hands to ward him off, but he grabbed her with rough hands and shoved her to the deck then ran past her and jumped onto the dock.

  Wynne felt the bite of glass on her backside and on her hands as she struggled to her feet. She looked down and saw one leg was bleeding from a cut on her calf. Tiny bits of embedded glass stung her hands.

  She heard someone behind her again and whirled with her bloody hands held out in front of her. She felt a rush of relief when she looked into Simon’s face.

  His gaze traveled to her hands. “What happened to you?” He stepped onto the boat and grabbed her as she swayed.

  She blinked to clear her blurry head. “An intruder. Look what he did to our equipment.” Blood dripped from her palms.

  “I don’t care about the equipment.” He took her arm and steered her gently to a seat. “Let me look at you.” He grabbed a first-aid kit from a cabinet and began to clean her hands. “You’re full of glass.”

  “He knocked me down.”

  Simon took tweezers and began to pull the shards of glass from her palms. Watching his head bent over her hands, she had to resist an impulse to lean down and lay her own head on his. He was a rock in times of trouble. She remembered what Max had said about trust and realized she had to let go of her distrust. If she went through life with her guard up all the time, she’d miss out on God’s best.

  “There. I think I got all the glass.” Simon released her hands.

  They still stung, though he’d covered them with a bandage. “You’d make a good nurse.” She stared into his eyes. They were golden amber, not really brown. Warm and melting, his gaze knocked down the last of her defenses. She wanted to get to know him better. Maybe there was something there for them and maybe there wasn’t, but she’d never know by hiding behind her fear.

  “I need to call the sheriff.”

  She laughed. “It sounds like you’d rather face death than do that.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not in the mood for Rooney.” He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed.

  She watched him as he told Rooney what had happened. She suppressed a smile at his anger. The attacker had better be glad he wasn’t around.

  Simon clicked off the phone. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. You realize he’s going to say I staged this.” He sounded resigned.

  “It wasn’t you. This guy was thinner and shorter. Strong though.” She shuddered at the memory of how his fingers had bitten into her arms.

  “Want a pop? I’ve got some in the cooler.”
r />   “Yeah, I could use a sugar jolt about now.”

  He leaned over to the cooler and fished out a dripping cola. She popped the top and took a gulp. Her hands had begun to throb, and the idea of crawling back into bed sounded tempting.

  Simon nodded. “Here comes Rooney.”

  Sheriff Rooney put his notebook away. “I guess that’s all I need.”

  “Are you going to find who did this?” Simon asked. Rooney had been surprisingly focused during the questioning. Simon wondered if he finally realized something else was going on.

  Rooney pushed his hat back on his forehead. “I’ll do my best. One of the deck hands tried to stop the intruder and got clobbered. He’s still pretty shaken, but when’s he’s more coherent, maybe he’ll remember something that will help. I think it might have something to do with that Canadian drug ring.”

  “Are you still kicking that dead horse? This has nothing to do with drugs!” Simon couldn’t believe the sheriff was following such a stupid idea.

  Rooney bristled. “There’s nothing more promising unless you did this yourself.”

  “Sheriff, I saw the man who did this. It wasn’t Simon.”

  Bless Wynne for her defense. Simon knew it would do no good though. Rooney wanted him to be guilty.

  “I thought he had a stocking over his face,” Rooney said.

  “He did, but the size was wrong for it to be Simon.”

  Rooney just nodded and turned toward the dock. Simon knew he wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t hired someone to throw suspicion off.

  “You’re a poor excuse for a lawman,” Wynne said. “Aren’t you supposed to be impartial? Look, I’m sorry about your sister, but to be determined to make Simon pay by railroading him into a murder charge is inhuman.”

  Rooney stopped and turned slowly. “Don’t talk about my sister,” he spat. “I found her hanging from a barn beam. And he killed her no matter how he might have sugarcoated it to you.”

  Wynne’s voice was soft. “I know you’re hurting, Mitch. But don’t let your grief corrupt your sworn duty.”

  Something flickered across Rooney’s face before he swung around and presented his back to them. He didn’t say another word as he rushed to the dock.

  “Thanks for defending me, but I don’t think you got through.”

  “You never know. I think he’s going to look a little harder. I’m hoping he saw where his duty lies.”

  Simon sat beside Wynne and grabbed a pop for himself. “You never said what you were doing here.”

  “I came to help you figure out what happened to the boat.” Her dark eyes were fixed on him.

  He wasn’t sure what he felt at the realization that she was ready to help him. “What about your misgivings? Did Max tell you what we talked about?” If Max had blabbed, Simon would kill him.

  “No, no, nothing like that. Max and I talked, but he just told me it was time I listened to my gut.” She grimaced. “My gut instincts have never been good, but I can’t go through life fearful of trusting people.”

  “You can trust me, Wynne. I would never hurt you.”

  “That’s what Max says, too. So I’m here to help. We’ll get that boat raised and figure out what happened.”

  “We can’t, remember? The sheriff says it’s off-limits.”

  She grimaced. “Oh, yeah. Well hopefully they’ll call me in as a consultant.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it after the way you antagonized Rooney.”

  “I was just telling the truth.”

  Her voice was sounding stronger by the minute. For a while, he’d been wondering if he should take her to the hospital. Color was beginning to come back into her cheeks. “I’m not about to waste your expertise. You game to search for the Viking ship?”

  She smiled. “I’ll try to keep my sanity through it.” She tipped her head back and studied his face. “You really think something like that is out there?”

  “I know it.” He was going to find it someday.

  She sucked in her breath and stood. “Let’s get out there.”

  “You’re in no condition to go today.”

  “I’m fine. Anything is better than hanging around with nothing to do. If nothing else, we could go back to that other ship we found.”

  She was right. “Okay. But you stay on board while I dive.”

  “You can’t do that! You know it’s not safe to dive alone.”

  “We don’t have much choice. Look at your hands. I’ll be fine.” He nodded toward the hillside. “And here come the rest of our crew.”

  Joe and Bjorn hurried toward them. Joe reached them first. “Sorry we’re late. I had engine trouble this morning.” He glanced around the boat, then whistled. “What happened here?”

  Simon told them about the intruder. Bjorn was scowling by the time he finished. “I should get my gun?” he asked.

  “No, we’re fine,” Simon said hastily. Bjorn could be a hothead. The last thing he wanted was to be in more trouble with the sheriff. “I have a pistol on board.” He’d make sure Joe or Wynne had it, though—not Bjorn.

  Joe cleaned up the mess and scrounged up more equipment. He stepped to the helm and fired the engine. Bjorn untied the boat from its mooring. They headed out to the coordinates where they’d found the steamer.

  Simon’s spirits rose as Turtle Town fell behind them. Keeping an eye on the GPS, Joe got them to the coordinates. They didn’t need the sonar with the site pinpointed.

  “We’re here,” Joe said. Bjorn lowered the anchor.

  Simon moved to the cabinet that held their gear. Wynne was right behind him. She grabbed her gear, too. “I’m going down with you.”

  “No, you’re not.” He took the gear from her and put it back in the cabinet. “I’ll take a buoy with me. If I get in trouble, I’ll send it up. You stay here and monitor things.”

  “How can I monitor anything with busted equipment?”

  She had a point. He grinned. “Well, just put your feet up then. If I’m not back in two hours, come looking for me.”

  “Two hours in this cold water?”

  “I’ve got a heavy dry suit. I’ll be fine. I’ve dove that long many times.” He began to pull on his suit.

  “I don’t like it.” She was playing with her braid, a sure sign she was nervous.

  “I don’t, either, but we have to play the cards we’re dealt. You already faced down one intruder today. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt again. Whoever it was came on board when we dove before. He might try it again.” He reached into the cabinet. “In fact, you’d better keep this close.” He handed her a pistol.

  “I don’t know how to shoot.” She held the gun awkwardly in both hands. “Is it loaded?”

  “Yeah. Here’s the safety.” He showed her how to turn the safety on and off. “On second thought, I’ll give it to Joe.”

  “Good idea. I’d likely shoot myself in the foot.”

  He stood looking down at her and an unexpected wave of tenderness swept over him. “It means a lot to me that you’re here,” he said softly. He could smell the fresh scent of her perfume. It was all he could do to stay where he was and not step closer to kiss her. How would those full lips feel beneath his? He wanted to find out.

  With an effort he dragged his mind back to the search. “Say a prayer for me.” He fell backward into the water and felt the cold waves close over his head. He dove slowly down to the steamer.

  Windigo Wind looked just as he’d last seen it. Laying heavily on its side, it seemed as much a part of Superior as the bottom of the lake itself. It would make an interesting project for a few months.

  And it would keep Wynne with him. The thought stopped him short. He didn’t want her to leave the island. She’d become more important to him than he’d imagined.

  He placed some markers on possible ports of entry into the steamer then saw a shadow and turned to see Wynne joining him at the boat. Her eyes were twinkling behind the clear glass of her mask, and he knew she hadn’t been able to stay out of th
e excitement.

  He sent her a stern look, but she just winked at him. The expression in her eyes always drew him in. It was a gut reaction that surprised him.

  They swam around the steamer and planted markers of possible entry points to the interior of the boat. The project intrigued him more than he’d thought it might, and he realized it was because he was spending time with Wynne.

  Working side by side in the clear water, they sifted through debris. He finally tapped his watch. They’d been down about an hour, and he was feeling the cold. Wynne had to be, too.

  Wynne pointed up to the surface, and he nodded. They swam slowly up to the boat. As they neared the surface, he saw the hull of another boat near the Thunderbird. Kicking out more strongly, he shot the last five feet to the surface.

  His head broke the water, and his gaze went to the other boat. Great. They sure didn’t need Mike Wilson poking around their find.

  “Ahoy, Simon,” Mike called.

  He wore a self-satisfied smirk that Simon wanted to knock off his face. “What brings you this way, Mike?” Simon asked, hauling himself to his boat. He turned and extended his hand to Wynne.

  She grasped his fingers, and he helped her aboard then turned to face Mike.

  “Sorry, boss, I tried to get rid of him,” Joe muttered.

  “No problem,” Simon said softly.

  “You were down a long time,” Mike said his voice avid. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “I think I’ve got it covered,” Simon told him. The last thing he needed was Wilson butting in.

  “I’ve got equipment you don’t have,” Wilson continued as though Simon hadn’t said anything. “Let’s partner together in this discovery. We can help each other out. I’ll split it with you fifty-fifty.”

  “No thanks,” Simon said.

  Disappointment flared across the older man’s face. “Have it your way,” he said stiffly. He signaled the man at the helm, and his boat moved away.