Only Emma (4 page)

"Can I trust you?"

"That depends."

He groaned. "We're not breaking any laws."

"That tells me nothing, if you were, you wouldn't admit it," she snapped. Drat, why did the man have to have secrets? He looked absolutely distraught, but she couldn't afford to promise him the moon without knowing what she was getting into. Surely he was smart enough to know that.

"We're hiding," Emma said.

"What?"

He gave Emma a squeeze against his leg then turned back to Lissey. "That's right. That's why she has a boy's haircut, and I call her David in public."

"Who are you hiding from?" She could guess; an ex-wife who should have had custody of her only daughter. No wonder there had been no mother on the boat. Bruce, the jerk. Although, he seemed almost desperate to win her support. Bloody hell, he was asking her to trust him. After the way their first encounter went he had to be desperate to do that. What could he be afraid of?

"Grandpa," Emma said.

"Grandpa?" Lissey sputtered.

"It's a long story," Bruce said. "But yes."

This she had to hear. But another thought came to mind. "So, you changed Emma's name. Did you change yours too?"

He nodded. "Jake Wainright, at your service."

She quirked an eyebrow, but held her tongue, waiting for him to say something more.

His eyes darkened, with strong feeling apparently. He cleared his throat and said hoarsely, "My wife died in a car crash two years ago. Her parents are after custody of Emma. They have the money to buy anything they want. They kept losing in the courts, but they never gave up."

"Did they finally win?"

"The lawyers were costing me a fortune, so I sold the house, bought the boat, and took off."

"Why the fake names?"

"My father-in-law has detectives after us. We keep moving around and do everything for cash. We change our names so they can't find us."

She glanced at Emma. For such a little child she was so serious. How could a tyke like her deal with having a new name every time she turned around? But Emma nodded as her father spoke, apparently agreeing with what he was saying.

"That's why you pretend she's a boy." Lissey's heart stumbled. Caroline's death had been bad enough, but to lose a child at this stage of Emma's life because someone stole her away from you would be unbearable. No wonder he was desperate enough to beg for her help. 

"I hate to do that, but it's one more piece in our bag of tricks."

"What will you do when she matures?" Lissey asked.

"I don't know," he murmured.

Lissey considered for a moment. He seemed to be telling the truth, but she'd met other men who seemed honest, oh yeah. She'd have to do some checking on Jake Wainright. Being the harbormaster she was also sort of the law at her end of the island. At least she knew the chief constable on Great Casque. She could always get help from him when she needed it. She could give Jake the benefit of the doubt though for a while.

"What do you want from me?"

Jake smiled, looking more relaxed than he had a moment ago. "Just use our phony names all the time. Bruce and David, that's all. And keep our secret until we leave."

Emotion surged through her body, a confusion of surprise and sadness, annoyance and pure upset. "Until you leave?"

Jake gazed at her as if she were an idiot. "We can't stay in one place very long. They'd find us."

Jacob Marley's chains were back around her chest again. She drew a deep breath and shook them off. Who knew if this guy was really giving her a true story? He was a live-aboard after all, the equivalent of a boat hobo.

"Will you keep our secret?" Jake asked.

"I'll think about it."

"What about while you're thinking?" he pleaded.

"Call you Bruce and David in the meantime?" She shrugged. "All right."

He got the silliest grin on his face. "That's great."

What had she committed to? He might be a kidnapper; she had to verify his story. "What was your wife's name? Her maiden name."

His eyes suddenly glistened with moisture and he blinked fiercely, then turned his back and dropped to one knee. Emma reached for him and he wrapped an arm around and hugged her. He rubbed furiously at his eyes. He patted Emma's head, then stood and turned back to face Lissey, his expression rigidly controlled. "I'm sorry. It sneaks up on me sometimes."

Lissey knew about intermittent bursts of grief that could abruptly rip at one's emotional safeguards, he didn't have to explain. Her heart went out to him. For a moment, then she forced her brain back to work. She couldn't let sympathy hold sway, not until she had all the facts about this man.

"Her name?" she repeated, softly this time.

"Diane Simpson Wainright."

"When did she die?"

"February 4, 2014. You're going to call the cops on us."

"I'm going to check you out."

He nodded. "Please do it quietly, so you don't alert my father-in-law."

"I'll do what I have to do." She bit her lip. That sounded harsh, but it was true, she would do whatever was required to verify the truth of his story.

He scratched his head and gave her a steely-eyed look. "Yeah, you would."

She turned to Emma. The child was studying her intently. Lissey gave her a smile. "When you're ready, come bake with me in the morning."

"Thank you," Jake said and offered his hand.

Lissey shook it and found the contact warm and tingly. She blinked and let the corners of her lips turn upward in a smile.

They ambled off past her shop and Maria Sarano's gaudily decorated golf cart rental shop, Jake strolling slow enough for Emma to keep up, heading up the road toward the other end of the island. Half a dozen chickens scattered before them. Emma chased one briefly, then let it go its own way. The far end of the island would be a six-mile hike, twelve miles round trip, if they went the whole way, a little much for a tot like Emma. 

Lissey slipped back into her shop, her heart thudding in her ribs. She'd become a conspirator to a man she barely knew and that left her stomach a little queasy. What if he were a liar, a kidnapper, a vicious husband to a suffering wife? She didn't trust strangers anymore. Ramon had cured her of that. But, Jake's eyes tearing up, that had been real.

It mattered not a whit though. She could end this little charade in a minute. All she had to do was report him.

Yeah, like to whom? She could call the constable, Kirby Wittingham, on Great Casque Island and burst the man's balloon. A sigh escaped her heart. What if Jake's story was true? Poor Emma, the child was so devoted to him. She couldn't be responsible for ruining their lives. Emma's life anyway.

"Ho there, anybody home?" her mom said.

"What?"

"You looked like you were in another world."

Lissey gave her a smile. "I'm sorry, I was just preoccupied with something Mr. Duncan told me."

Lavinia frowned. "Oh, what's that?"

She'd almost called him Jake. Keeping his secret would not be easy even for a short time. She hesitated. After all, Lavinia was her mother. But she had promised Jake, for a little while at least. "I can't tell you yet. I gave my word."

Her mom cocked an eyebrow. "Keeping secrets with strange men? That's not good."

Her cheeks grew warm, quite red she was sure. "It's not like that. And I might not keep the secret."

Her mom's frown deepened. "Now that sounds mysterious."

"I have some work to do on the computer. Can you watch the shop for a while?"

In the back of the kitchen, her laptop at the ready, she pulled up the Internet. A Google search for Diane Wainright's obituary immediately produced results. There she was, died in an accident February 4, 2014. The obit was from a local newspaper in New Haven, Connecticut. Not Boston, which he'd claimed as a homeport on his registration form. Was that a fiction too?

She studied the obit carefully. Diane Simpson Wainright was survived by her husband, Jake, a daughter Emma, and her parents, Arthur and Margaret Simpson of Trumbull, Connecticut, wherever that was. Donations could be made to MADD. Lissey groaned. A drunk had killed his wife apparently.

She sat back, staring at the glowing screen. Jake had told the truth. Or had he? He seemed to have a story for every contingency. What if he wasn't Jake, wasn't Wainright, and had Googled a few names until he found this obit for someone named Diane? Or saw the obituary in the local paper? A wave of disappointment swept over Lissey. So far, she had enough proof to decorate the point of a pin.

She abandoned the computer and wandered back outside. There was a lot to think about. How to call Kirby Wittingham over on Great Casque without stirring up Pandora's Box. She smiled at the thought. Tell the world about Jake—she could do that in a minute. Well, maybe. Lissey groaned, what was she thinking? She had legal responsibilities here. If she found out he'd been lying she'd have to report him to somebody. Emma though, she was something else. The girl obviously loved her daddy. No way did Lissey want to ruin that for her unless she had to.

A man, a woman and a little girl about Emma's age were walking up the dock, apparently fresh off Louis's boat. Vacationers or live-aboards newly arrived apparently. Sparkling new color matched yachting clothes, they had to be vacationers. They headed in her direction.

"Are you from Lissey's?" the man asked. "The man on the launch said we have to sign in for a mooring."

"Welcome to Little Casque Island. I'm actually Lissey, but you don't need me. Just go on inside. My mother will sign you in."

The woman smiled. "Thank you. Is there any night life on this island?"

"There are a couple of places. The nearest is The Sea Horse Grill, about a mile up the road."

"Thank you, thank you very much," the man said with an obsequious smile. He reached out and hurried the little girl along.

Lissey watched them enter the shop. Nightlife? Would they take the child with them to the bar? She sighed. It took all kinds. A smile stole across her face. They could be kidnappers for all she knew.

Like Jake, the guy could be hiding from his wife. Except he might be traveling with a woman he picked up somewhere along the way. Except Jake wasn't hiding from his wife. If he'd told the truth. And these duded up people clearly weren't live-aboards.

Lissey shook herself. Enough with the ridiculous fantasies. It was time to call Kirby. She shooed away one of Maria's goats and strode back into the shop, right past her mom and the new arrivals and into the kitchen. Her mobile lay on the counter beside the toasters where she'd left it.

Kirby answered on the second ring. "Wittingham."

"Good day to you, Kirby. This is Lissey on Little Casque," she chirped when he answered.

"Greetings, Luv. I haven't heard from you in ages," the deep voice replied.

Luv? An endearment reserved for women well past menopause, she'd forgotten he favored it. The man was so stuffy, he made her feel like an ancient spinster. "Well, things have been quiet lately."

"Oh? Did you have a murder yesterday?"

She laughed. He was developing a sense of humor? "Three actually. Two goats and a chicken."

There was a pause before he intoned quite seriously, "You're indulging in frivolity."

"Oh sorry."

"What is the purpose of your call?"

She took a deep breath. She was in it now, no turning back. "I'm wondering if you've had any inquiries about a kidnapped child?"

"What sort of inquiries?"

"From the American authorities?"

"The Americans are only interested in terrorists these days. Why do you ask?"

Lissey let out a breath. Nothing through official channels, that was good. Kirby could say what he wanted, but if Jake was a true kidnapper the American authorities would be after him. That yachting couple could just as easily be kidnappers. A new idea crossed her mind.

"I was curious. I met a strange couple with a small child."

"Strange how?"

She frowned. This was what she'd feared, how to concoct a convincing story that wouldn't bring Kirby crashing down on Little Casque like the leader of the Light Brigade. The new arrivals could serve as perfect foils. "They just seemed so casual with the little girl. They're looking for nightlife and apparently intend to take the child with them. And they seemed very nervous when I met them."

"Hmm. Don't you get nervous people there occasionally?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Does the child look like the parents?"

Uh oh, very dangerous question. If she answered yes, he'd ridicule her for far too vivid an imagination. If she gave him a no, he might decide to follow up with a very unwelcome visit to her island. "Well, sort of."

He grunted. Ridicule, oh yes. "Sort of is not a clear response. When you deal with police business you must learn to be more precise."

"I hadn't really observed for that. I'll look again."