Stormcatcher (2 page)

“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.

T
he 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.”

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.”

“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.”

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,” Wynne 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.”