Stormcatcher (8 page)

T
he sheriff had herded them all into the backroom of the café, away from avid spectators. Wynne had offered to have Becca or Max come get her, but Simon had asked her to stay. She had to admit to herself she was curious. Her emotions raged between dread and hope.

She realized she didn’t want Simon to be guilty. Just a few days in his company, and the walls she’d carefully erected around her heart were crumbling. Simon seemed full of integrity. If he was guilty of something as heinous as murder, then she might as well forget ever trusting her own judgment.

Sheriff Mitch Rooney’s eyes were shrewd as he put one booted foot on a rung of the chair he’d pulled out. “Alan called me and said he had proof you murdered his sister. I’d like to hear it now.”

Simon said nothing. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

Rooney’s gaze swiveled to Alan. “Well?”

Alan’s hand shook as he pointed at Simon. “I talked to an employee who told me about the argument he had with Amanda.”

“The mysterious fight.” The sheriff took out a notepad.

Wynne could almost see the sheriff rubbing his hands together in his mind. He’d been out to prove Simon was guilty right from the start.

“The employee overheard Amanda scream at Simon and tell him that she’d make sure everyone knew what he’d made her do.”

“What he’d made her do? That sounds vague. It could be anything.” The sheriff glanced at Simon.

Wynne wanted Simon to speak and defend himself, but he continued to sit with his arms folded across his chest. His gaze connected with hers, and she nearly winced at his stony expression. He thought she was against him, too. She put a bit of pleading into her gaze, but he just looked away.

“You have anything to say for yourself?” Rooney asked.

Simon shrugged. “You already knew we’d had an argument. It had nothing to do with her death.”

“What did you make her do?”

“Nothing. She had been caught in something she didn’t want to take the blame for.”

“I’m going to find out about this. You might as well make it easy on yourself and tell me.”

Why was he holding back? He’d told Alan that
Amanda had embezzled from him. Why was no one saying it? She was tempted to tell the sheriff herself, but it wasn’t any of her business.

Alan was chewing on his lower lip, and Wynne could tell he was torn between telling the sheriff what Simon had said and keeping it to himself.

The indecision on his face changed to a bullish determination. “He said Amanda had embezzled money. I say he killed her in a fit of rage. He should have known she wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Rooney’s gaze sharpened. “Embezzlement?”

Simon sighed. “I don’t want to drag Amanda’s reputation through the mud now that she’s dead. Can’t you just take my word that this has nothing to do with her death?”

“I’m afraid not. I think you’d better come down to the station for interrogation.”

“Are you arresting me?”

The sheriff hesitated. “Not yet. But I’d like an official interrogation on record.”

“And if I refuse?”

Rooney’s face darkened. “I’d hate to have to put out a warrant for you as a material witness. Might be embarrassing.”

“For you or for me?” Simon shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. Go get your warrant.”

A darker flush traveled up the sheriff’s neck and to his face. “You’re not making any points here, Lassiter.”

“I wasn’t trying to. I don’t have time to play games with you. I want to find out what happened to my
cousin and my fiancée. I found the boat.” An expression of consternation rippled across his face.

He shouldn’t have said that. Wynne knew what was coming next.

The sheriff half stood, then sank back into his chair. “Give me the coordinates. You’re not to disturb the site. We don’t want the evidence contaminated.”

“So you can railroad me in to a murder charge?” Simon shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re impeding an official investigation. I’ll see you in jail. How’d you find it?”

“Serendipity,” Simon said. “You know Marquis Island? Wynne saw a blip on the sonar just offshore.”

The sheriff looked alert. “Marquis Island? That’s a known meeting place for Canadian drug smugglers. I should check out that angle.”

Simon shook his head. “Jerry wouldn’t have been involved in anything like that. Or Amanda.”

“You never know,” Rooney said, his chin jutting out. “At least it’s something to check out. In the meantime, I need to look at that boat.”

“Sheriff, I have a suggestion,” Wynne began. “I’ve often worked with law enforcement agencies. Not many people are trained in deep water retrieval. I barely know Simon and have no bias in this case. Let me take charge of the process of raising the yacht.”

Simon looked like she’d slapped him, and Wynne wanted to reassure him that she would handle things with the utmost professionalism. She bit her lip and looked away from his stricken face. The sheriff was
still mulling over her words. She waited as the silence grew.

“I’ll give you a list of references you can check,” she said.

“I’ll be in touch.” Rooney released the chair and removed his foot from its rung. “And expect a material witness warrant shortly, Lassiter. You’re going to tell me all about this.”

“That’s it? You’re not arresting him?” Alan’s face was mottled.

“This is all hearsay,” Rooney said. “I need the name of the employee you talked to.”

Alan shook his head. “I promised I’d leave this person out of it.”

“Great, just great. You call me down here for something I can do nothing about. I have no real evidence.”

“I’ll get you the evidence,” Alan shouted. He rushed from the room.

Rooney started after him then turned and looked back at Simon and Wynne. “I don’t know what to think, Simon. Just come clean with me.”

“I have been.” Simon tried to put as much force into the words as he could to convince Rooney.

Rooney shook his head. “We’re going to finish this discussion. You can count on it.” He walked off.

Wynne looked at Simon. “This feels very personal to me. Does the sheriff have something against you?”

Simon sighed. “His sister worked for me for a while.”

“That’s it? That doesn’t sound like much of a
reason to have it in for you.” She could tell there was more to the story.

Simon rubbed his forehead. “She, uh, she killed herself when I had to let her go.”

Wynne sucked in her breath. “Oh, my. That poor family. Why did you fire her?”

Simon’s face was a stony mask. “She had a crush on me and had started following me everywhere.”

“When did this happen?”

“A year ago.”

Two women dead in a year’s time. Wynne didn’t want to doubt Simon, but the evidence was looking overwhelming.

Silence reigned in the truck as Simon drove along the rain-swept street. Water ran across the road in places, and he had to navigate slowly. Wynne had already tried him and found him guilty. He’d thought she would be more fair-minded than that. Disappointment hunched his shoulders and weighed him down.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was staring out at the storm that lashed the island. Maybe he should try to defend himself—tell her everything. He pressed his lips together. No, the less people who knew the full story, the better off he was. Once the sheriff knew the full scope of Amanda’s treachery, no one would think he was innocent of her death.

He clamped his teeth over the words that wanted to spill out and drove Wynne back to Windigo Manor. The
manor house seemed to hunker down in the wind and rain that lashed the brick exterior. Lights shone from the windows.

“The thunderbird is sure hitting us hard today,” he remarked as he pulled the truck as close to the front door as possible.

Wynne nodded without looking at him. She put her hand on the door handle. “Wait a second,” he told her. “Look, I don’t want us to part with such heavy suspicion between us. I give you my word that I had nothing to do with Amanda’s death.”

“I want to believe you,” she said softly. “But you have to admit it looks bad, Simon. You’re asking me to trust you on faith alone.”

“I think you know me better than you think, Wynne. You can’t deny there’s a connection between us.”

He saw her throat move as she swallowed hard. “You trying to use that Lassiter charm on me?” she asked.

“There is no Lassiter charm,” he said wearily. “I’m tired of hearing that. This is me, Wynne. A flesh-and-bone man with hurts and troubles like any other. I’m not some Prince Charming. Can’t you trust me, just a little?”

“I don’t know, Simon. I’m going to have to pray about this. I’m not sure we should work together anymore.”

“But you were quick to offer your services to the sheriff, weren’t you? You want to bring up that boat even if you have to stab me in the back to do it.”

“That’s not fair,” she flashed back. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Some protection. You’re throwing me to the wolves.”

“Would you rather someone work on the project who is under the sheriff’s thumb? At least you know I’ll be honest.”

“And how do I know that? Maybe Rooney has already got to you. You lived on this island when you were younger. Maybe you two are old friends.”

“I’d better go in. You’re being unreasonable.” She opened her door and jumped out, then dashed through the pelting rain.

Thunder and lightning crashed overhead. Simon waited until she reached the front door then dropped the truck into gear. He put his foot on the accelerator, then with a sudden decisive mood, slammed it back into Park and turned it off. He got out of the truck and ran toward the porch. Cold rain stung his cheeks, but he hardly noticed.

He reached the front door and pounded on it, not bothering with the doorbell. He pounded again, and the door finally opened.

Max’s frown lightened when he saw Simon. “I wondered why you didn’t come in.” His smile faded when he looked into Simon’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. The sheriff is about to arrest me for Amanda’s murder. I need your advice. You got a minute?”

“Sure. Get in here out of the weather.”

Simon followed Max down the hall. Looking into the living room, he saw a cozy scene with Becca, Gram and Wynne clustered around the baby. Wynne looked up and flushed when she saw him. He gave her a curt nod then strode past the doorway after Max. Let her wonder what he was doing here.

Max took him to his office. “Have a seat.”

Simon realized he was tired to the bone. The emotional upheaval of the day had taken its toll. He sank into a leather armchair. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“How about with why the sheriff thinks you’re guilty.”

Simon nodded and began to tell Max the whole story. His friend nodded occasionally as he listened intently. He asked a few questions as the story unfolded. The relief Simon felt as he unburdened his troubles was as heartening as the first sign of spring to the U.P. He should have shared this with Max sooner.

“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.

W
ynne 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.”

“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 misgiv
ings? 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 the excitement.