The Return of Connor Mansfield

by Beth Cornelison

  “Take this week off as an opportunity to get yourself together, have some fun counting starfish or whatever it is you do on your dives, and come back refreshed. We need you here at Cape Churn Memorial. You’re the best nurse we have.”

  At that point Emma had faked an incoming call, her voice choking on a sob she refused to release. Randy didn’t deserve a single tear. He’d hurt her, but worse, he’d hurt the children of Cape Churn and the surrounding seaside towns by absconding with the money meant for the addition.

  Emma’s only hope at redemption lay in the sea. Call it a hunch, but today was the day her luck would change. She could feel it in her bones and flowing in her blood, the same blood that flowed through the long line of Cape Churn Jenkinses, who’d helped establish this little town on the coast of Oregon in the mid-eighteen hundreds. The sole surviving Jenkins, she had an obligation to redeem the family name.

  As she turned her Jeep into the marina parking lot, her heartbeat slipped into an unsteady rhythm, her breath coming in shorter bursts as excitement mounted.

  Today would be the day she found the wreck of the Anna Maria, a ship legend told of having sunk in the Devil’s Shroud in the late 1700s. She climbed out of her vehicle, grabbed her duffel and hurried toward destiny.

  The boat that would get her there, the Reel Dive, rocked gently against its mooring. Dave Logsdon trotted along the dock carrying a cooler, probably filled with beer, his flip-flops making soft slapping sounds. He wore a worn U2 T-shirt and cargo shorts stained from fish guts and bait and frayed at the edges. An L.A. Dodgers baseball cap perched on his curly blond hair, tipped back so that he could see. “Some fog we had the past couple nights, wasn’t it?”

  “Unfortunately.” Emma climbed aboard, unzipped her bag and slipped her diving mask and headlamp over her head. She adjusted the straps and removed it, laying it aside while she dug out the rest of her diving gear. “Had plenty of accident victims in the emergency room.”

  Dave shook his head. “It was pretty bad out here. Must have been a disturbance farther out to sea. We had plenty of waves to go along with being socked in with the Devil’s Shroud.”

  “Not a good night to be out on the water.” According to the legends and the written records, a similar night, over two hundred years ago, had led to the disappearance of the Spanish galleon, the Anna Maria.

  Nothing penetrated the choking blanket of fog the locals had nicknamed the Devil’s Shroud. Ships caught in its deadly clutches ran aground in the deadly shallows of the reefs surrounding the jut of land called Cape Churn.

  The Anna Maria had been spotted out to sea, nearing the Cape on its northern journey to the mouth of the Columbia River, navigating the jagged coastline between the rocky islands peppering the ocean floor. She’d been due to dock the next morning in the harbor town of Cape Churn, laden with gold coins and priceless china from the Far East. When the shroud descended, the ship and all aboard had perished.

  Records kept by colonists placed the ship near the rocky shallows, but all efforts to locate the ship had come up empty.

  Until now. Emma laid out her equipment, one piece at a time, going over her dive plan in her head. The dive that would fix everything in her life. Failure wasn’t an option. Her life, her reputation at the hospital and in the community, depended on her finding a treasure sufficient to cover the cost of the new wing.

  A moment of doubt slipped beneath her forced bravado. Why did she think she had a chance to find the Anna Maria when no one else had? Any sane person would conclude she had the same chances of winning the lottery as finding the two-hundred-year-old wreck.

  “Ready?” Dave asked, leaping aboard.

  “Almost.” Emma shoved aside her misgivings and tested the flow of compressed air from the tank to the regulator, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out. She looked around at the equipment stacked on the deck. Buoyancy control device, or BCD, wrist dive computer with a built-in GPS, cylinder, regulator, booties, fins, wet suit, gloves, mask and diving knife. The most important item was the map she’d drawn of Cape Churn after researching her great-grandfather’s logbooks and journals that had been kept by the long since deceased lighthouse keeper from the late eighteen hundreds.

  Emma straightened. “Do you have the location entered in your GPS?”

  “Done.”

  After a great deal of research and studying old letters and documents, she’d calculated a back azimuth from the locations reporting a sighting of the Anna Maria and determined the coordinates accordingly. Three years ago, she’d established a grid extending six hundred yards outward from that location, taking into account tide and ocean currents. Over the years, she’d dived the grid, meticulously ruling out one section after another until now. The final grid, her last hope to find the Anna Maria and keep alive the dream of a hospital addition benefiting the children.

  A tentative thrill of anticipation shimmied across her skin.

  Dave climbed the ladder to the helm and paused at the top, his back still to her as he faced the dock. “What’s with the police car?”

  Emma glanced up, her gaze scanning the parking lot.

  An SUV with Cape Churn Police written on the side pulled to a stop, and Officer Gabe McGregor got out.

  Emma smiled and waved. Gabe and his fiancée, Kayla Davies, were friends of hers, though too often she felt like a pathetic odd man out to their loving family.

  Another car pulled into the lot, parking next to Gabe’s SUV. A tall, dark-haired man unfolded himself from behind the wheel. Wearing sunglasses, a T-shirt, swim trunks and flip-flops, he strode toward them, carrying a large duffel bag, his broad chest and thick arms a testament of a firm regimen of weight lifting. Maybe even a little Native American ancestry, with those high cheekbones and square jaw. The stranger met the officer at the back of the vehicle. Gabe spoke and pointed toward the boat and Emma.

  Emma’s pulse quickened, and she frowned at the realization.

  “They seem to be pointing at us,” Dave commented. “Should I wait and see what they want, or take off?”

  Emma wanted him to take off. She had a lot of seafloor to cover on her days off. But Gabe was her friend. If he needed to talk to her or Dave, she could spare him a few minutes. “I can wait.”

  Gabe strode across to the dock, headed straight for them, the stranger keeping pace behind him. “Emma, Dave, glad I caught you.”

  Feeling at a disadvantage, standing below the two tall men, Emma climbed out of the boat and stood on the dock, still staring up at the stranger with the officer. “Hi, Gabe. Good to see you. How are Kayla and the baby?”

  Gabe smiled. “Both doing fine. Tonya had her first full night of sleep without waking last night. Kayla got up twice to make sure she was breathing.” He turned toward the man behind him. “This is Creed Thomas. He arrived in town this morning, looking for assistance in a case he’s working.”

  Emma’s frown returned. “Case?”

  Gabe nodded toward Creed. “I’ll let him tell you.”

  The swarthy-skinned man stepped forward.

  Dark, piercing eyes shone down on her, sending a ripple of trepidation across Emma’s nerve endings.

  “As Officer McGregor said, I’m working a case for my insurance company, and I need the expertise of a diver familiar with this area to help me.”

  Gabe grinned. “That would be Emma. She knows these waters better than anyone around.”

  Emma nodded. “Why? What are you looking for?”

  “A boat that disappeared off Cape Churn maybe last night or the night before.”

  “Devil’s Shroud,” Dave said from his perch on the boat. “People from around here know better than to get caught out in that fog.”

  Creed nodded. “Officer McGregor informed me you’ll be diving off the cape today, and I could use a boat.” He glanced toward Dave before returning his atten
tion to Emma. “And, as I said, an expert diver to help me find the boat that went down. It was expensive, and my underwriters want to make sure it did go down and wasn’t stolen.”

  Her chest tightened. “I had other plans for the day. If I can fit your search in around my plans, it’s a possibility.” Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Do you intend for me to find the boat, or are you going down, too?”

  He nodded. “I’d planned on diving.”

  “Are you an experienced diver?” She hoped so; otherwise, he’d slow her efforts.

  Creed’s lips curled upward. “You could say I am.”

  “Good.” Emma’s mouth firmed. “I don’t really have time to give lessons or rescue a new diver from getting the bends. I’ve got work to do.”

  His dark eyes twinkled in the sun as if he was laughing at her. “I’ll try not to inconvenience you.”

  Her frown deepened. “You won’t be carrying a speargun, will you?”

  His forehead wrinkled. “No. Should I?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Emma smiled, softening her words. “I don’t want you shooting me by accident.”

  Creed chuckled. “I take it you’ve been out with inexperienced divers before?”

  She nodded. “I give lessons.”

  “So,” Dave said from the deck, “do we have an additional diver today?”

  Emma sighed. “I suppose.” She glanced at Gabe. “You owe me.”

  Gabe tipped a finger off his hat. “He seems to be on the up-and-up, or I wouldn’t have suggested he join you.” He patted Creed on the back. “You’re in good hands with Emma. Not only is she an expert diver, she’s also the best nurse in the county. She helped deliver our baby girl.”

  “I don’t think I’ll need a labor-and-delivery nurse on this dive.”

  Emma laughed. “God, I hope not.”

  “Be careful out there.” Gabe left Creed and Emma standing on the dock.

  “Guess you’re stuck with me.” Emma stepped from the dock onto the deck of the dive boat.

  Creed followed with his bag. “When are we leaving?”

  Dave climbed down to the deck and flipped open the engine compartment, wiggled a hose, tightened a clamp and straightened. “How about now?”

  “Do you have your own gear?” Emma eyed the man’s bag.

  “I do.” He set the duffel on the deck and yanked his T-shirt up over his head, tossing it onto a nearby bench.

  For a moment, Emma couldn’t focus on anything other than the broad expanse of dark skin. Wow, the man had way too much going for him in the looks department. Not that she was interested. Once bitten...and all that.

  Creed bent to unzip his bag.

  Emma tore her gaze from his attributes, glancing at the bag’s contents, hoping she wouldn’t have to waste valuable time fitting him out in skins and breathing apparatus.

  After moving another step away from the man, Emma pulled her sundress up over her head, remembering too late that she should have untied the string in the back first. With her arms caught and the dress over her face, she struggled to find the string.

  “Here, let me.” Large warm hands gripped the strap around her back, loosening the tie. The back of his knuckles brushed across her bare midriff as he pulled the dress up and over her head.

  Standing in nothing but her bikini and feeling more than a little exposed, Emma glanced up at Creed to offer her thanks. Her words died on her lips as she gazed up at the dangerously handsome man standing so close she could almost smell the sunshine on his tanned skin.

  Dark hair hung in loose waves over his ears and neck. Deep brown eyes smiled down at her.

  Emma blinked once, then swallowed hard and backed up a step. Unfortunately, she backed right into a bench seat and would have fallen if Creed hadn’t reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her hard against his naked chest.

  “Er...thanks.” She extricated herself from his grip, careful not to fall on the bench again.

  “My pleasure.” His deep voice washed over her like warm butter melting into every pore.

  Off balance, Emma nodded toward his bag. “Do you have all the gear you’ll need? Namely, a wet suit suitable for these cold waters?”

  He grinned. “For the record, I’ve been diving a time or two. I believe I have all I need.” He pulled from his bag the same type of equipment Emma had amassed for the underwater expedition to explore the barrier reef on the outer edges of Cape Churn.

  Emma mentally ticked off all that he would need, and then nodded to Dave. “Let’s go.”

  “On it.” Dave fired up the engines while Emma unhooked the rope from the dock at the bow. Creed freed the stern rope, and Dave backed the forty-seven-foot boat away from the dock and out into the choppy waters of the bay. As he pulled away from the marina, a warm steady breeze lifted Emma’s hair from her face. She entered the passenger cabin and tucked her sundress into a cubby.

  While Dave steered the boat toward the coordinates Emma had instructed him to, she sat on a bench and pulled her wet suit up over her legs, then stood and tugged them up to her hips.

  Creed pulled a handheld GPS tracking device from his bag.

  “You put a tracking device on all the yachts you insure?” she asked.

  “Only the ones we think are at risk of disappearing.”

  “From poor handling or theft?” Emma asked.

  “Either.”

  “And which one was this?” Emma glanced up.

  He shrugged one gorgeous shoulder, making Emma catch her bottom lip between her teeth. “Both.”

  “Let’s compare your coordinates to mine. Hopefully, they’re nearby and we can swim between the two.” And she wouldn’t waste too much time. She had only one week to find the Anna Maria. One week to change the hospital board of directors’ minds on scrapping the children’s wing. If she could find a treasure worth salvaging, they might reconsider.

  Creed followed Emma up the steps to the helm, entering behind her, making the small space feel even smaller, filled with his large, overpowering presence. Having trouble concentrating on coordinates, Emma forced herself to compare the two sets of numbers.

  For once her luck held. Creed’s coordinates were within the same vicinity. Considering it was the most likely place on the reef for ships to go down, Emma wasn’t terribly surprised. “Good, we’re going the same way.”

  “Are you looking for another boat that got lost in the fog?” he asked.

  “You bet,” she answered.

  Dave grinned over his shoulder. “Emma’s ship got lost in the Devil’s Shroud over two hundred years ago.”

  Creed’s brow rose. “Going for the historical value or treasure hunting?”

  Her lips twitched, and she gave him his own answer. “Both.”

  “Interesting.” He studied her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her mouth. Then, clutching his GPS tracking device, Creed exited the cabin, made his way to the lower level and out onto the bow where he stared out over the bay. He leaned against the railing, his jaw tight, gaze glued to the rocky outcropping ahead.

  From her perch above, Emma studied the man. He had the build of an athlete. Maybe he did know a little about diving, enough that she didn’t have to babysit him while she explored a particularly treacherous area.

  She climbed down the ladder and continued gearing up for the dive. Leaving the suit’s torso hanging around her waist, she slipped her feet into the diving boots and zipped them. The cold Pacific Ocean didn’t allow divers to go without the wet suit. Too long in the chill waters led to hypothermia and death. A dry suit was even better, but today was sunny and warm enough that Emma would risk the cold with the thickest wet suit she owned.

  Booties on, wet suit halfway there, Emma joined her dive buddy at the rail. “Maybe we should get a few things straig
ht before we go under.”

  He turned, his gaze passing over her, eyes narrowing slightly, assessing her. “Like?”

  “I haven’t seen you around Cape Churn. Since I’m familiar with the area and its dangers, I’m in charge.”

  Creed nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “In fact, if you aren’t a master diver, tell me now. Where we are going isn’t for amateurs.”

  His brows rose. “As I said before, I can hold my own.”

  “That doesn’t tell me much.”

  “I’ve logged over a hundred hours diving.”

  She studied him, looking for a crack in his shield, the lie behind the handsome face, and found nothing. “Okay, then. Dave is going to drop us as close as he can, and we’ll swim in closer beneath the surface to avoid the waves. Once we’re in the water, Dave will move farther out to keep his boat from banging up against any submerged rocks. There’s a significant riptide and undercurrent that might cause us some issue.”

  “If it’s so dangerous, why are you going out there?”

  “I’m a wreck diver, and I’ve been doing it for years. The Devil’s Shroud and the cape have claimed its share of ships over the years. If you want to get to them, you have to get into the shallows around the submerged rocks off the cape’s point.” She stared hard at him. “Still interested?”

  He nodded. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

  “Fun.” Emma snorted. “You have no idea.” She nodded toward his duffel. “You might want to suit up. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

  He popped a sharp salute and spun in a tight military about-face toward his gear.

  As she dragged the rest of her seven-mil wet suit on, Emma watched Creed closely for any sign of hesitation, ready to pounce if he showed any lack of knowledge of his own equipment.

  Regrettably, or maybe fortunately, he slipped into the wet suit as if it was a second skin. A quick check and testing of his regulator, dive computer, tank and mask indicated a proficient knowledge of his equipment.

  Darn it. Emma had hoped to rule him out of this trip, claiming inadequate experience with the necessary diving apparatus.