Stormcatcher (11 page)

Max followed Simon into the living room. “He was pretty useless. He kept yapping and worrying about you.” He grinned as Simon turned red.

Wynne pretended not to notice, but her cheeks went hot, and she knew they were just as crimson as Simon’s. “What about Joe and Bjorn?”

Simon’s confused grin faded. “No sign of them.”

The doorbell sounded, and they heard the sound of the sheriff’s voice in the hall. “Maybe he has news about them now,” Wynne said.

S
imon felt like a schoolboy with his first crush. Even with the sheriff bringing possible news, he couldn’t stop looking at Wynne. He’d thought he’d lost her today, that they would both die. Something about nearly dying made a man appreciate the things that really mattered.

He turned to face the sheriff as Rooney came into the living room. “Rooney, any news of my boat?”

Rooney looked sober. “Yeah, we found it, but there was no sign of Joe or Bjorn.”

“Maybe the boat broke down and someone took them aboard?”

“We’re checking on that. The engine wouldn’t fire so it’s a possibility.”

Simon moved restlessly. “What are you doing to find them?”

Rooney shrugged. “The usual. The Coast Guard has copters and planes out. But it’s been hours.”

Simon nodded. They both knew Superior’s cold embrace killed quickly. As it had nearly killed him and Wynne. If Joe and Bjorn were in the water, they were dead. He silently prayed for God to lead someone to his men and that they were alive.

The sheriff cleared his throat. “The autopsy came back and Jerry and Amanda both died of drowning.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t murder,” Simon blurted out.

Rooney raised his brows. “You’re right. Maybe I was wrong about you. And about these attacks on you—any idea who hates you?”

“You might talk to Wilson. With me out of the way, he could plunder the boat all he wanted.” Simon swiped his hand over his forehead.

Rooney nodded. “I’ll check it out.” He glanced at Wynne. “Your girlfriend’s comments made me realize maybe I was letting our history color my judgment. I’m trying to be impartial. I have divers checking out the sunken yacht.” Rooney glanced to where Wynne still sat snuggled in blankets. “I’d be glad for your help, Miss Baxter.”

“Of course,” Wynne said softly. “Call me when you need me.”

“We should have a team together in a few days.”

“Sounds fine.”

Simon glanced at Wynne, and their gazes connected. It was as if she touched his mind and heart when she looked at him. Their near deaths had strengthened the bond between them. Wynne looked
pale and spent, and Simon curled his fingers into his palms. He’d like to get his hands on whoever had stranded them out in the cold water.

Max walked the sheriff out, and Simon sat next to Wynne. He took her hand. “Your fingers are still cold,” he said.

She curled her hand into his. “I’m fine. What do you think really happened out there today?”

“I wish I knew. It could be that the anchor broke and the engine wouldn’t fire so it drifted away.”

“You sound like you don’t believe that.”

“I don’t. You were attacked today, and we’ve had several other problems. It felt too deliberate today.”

“I think so, too. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this. What about Wilson? With your boat out of commission, he could plunder the boat without interference.”

“Maybe.” Simon didn’t like Wilson, but the man didn’t seem like a murderer, and whoever had taken his boat had almost succeeded in killing them both. And maybe already killed Joe and Bjorn.

“Let’s go talk to him in the morning,” Wynne suggested. “Maybe he’ll reveal something.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Simon knew Wilson was too wily to admit to anything.

Max came back in. He carried his baby daughter, and Becca trailed behind him. They both sat down in the chairs by the window.

“I think we could use some prayer power,” Simon said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but God does.”

“I was about to suggest the same thing,” Becca said.

They all bowed their heads and Simon prayed for wisdom and guidance in the days ahead.

Wynne hopped in the truck as soon as Simon stopped in front of Windigo Manor. Her heart surged when she saw Simon’s face. The care and concern in his eyes warmed her.

“I saw Wilson at the dock,” he told her. “We’ll have to move fast or he’ll be out in the boat before we can talk to him.”

Right straight to business. Maybe the care she saw on his face was a trick of the light. Or wishful thinking. She told herself to work on figuring out what happened to the boat and ignore her love life. Or lack of it.

“Any word on Joe and Bjorn?”

“Nothing yet.” His voice was tight.

She touched his hand. “Don’t give up hope yet. They might have made it to an island or been picked up by a boat.”

He didn’t answer, and she knew he thought she was being naive. And maybe she was, but she wasn’t ready to assume the men were dead.

Simon drove in silence to the dock. “He’s still there,” he said, his voice relieved.

Wynne saw Mike Wilson standing on the dock next to his boat. “How are you going to handle it?”

“I don’t think it matters. He’s not likely to admit to anything. But at least he’ll know we suspect him and maybe he’ll back off.”

He had a point. “Okay.” She got out of the truck and followed him to where Mike stood talking to a big man in bib overalls.

“Hi, Mike,” she said, forcing a note of cheeriness into her voice.

Simon shot her an incredulous look then folded his arms over his chest. “We’re on to you, Wilson. Stay away from my boat.”

Mike held up his hand. “I suppose you’re the one who sicced the police on me. They were on my doorstep this morning before I even had my coffee. But lay off. I haven’t intruded on your site.”

“Yeah, right,” Simon said. “I suppose you didn’t tamper with my boat, either.”

A calculating expression crouched in Mike’s eyes. “The cops said your boat was out of commission.” He gave a weak smile. “Sorry to hear about that. We could team our resources. I’m still open to that idea.”

“I have another boat I can use,” Simon said. “You may have slowed us down, but you didn’t stop us.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mike sputtered.

Wynne decided she’d better jump in. “Where are Joe and Bjorn? Did you take them off the boat?”

“I don’t have time for this nonsense,” Mike said. He released the rope and hopped aboard the boat. His face was tight with anger.

“We didn’t accomplish much with that,” Wynne said.

Simon’s cell phone rang, and he dug it out of his
shirt pocket. “Lassiter,” he barked. His voice changed as he listened.

Was that relief on his face? Wynne was afraid to hope. She held her breath as she listened to Simon.

“At least they’re okay,” Simon said. He clicked off his cell phone and looked at her. “They found the men. They were picked up by a passing fishing boat on its way to the mainland.”

“What happened?”

“Two men boarded the boat and attacked them. When they came to, the radio was smashed, the anchor chain cut in two and the boat set adrift. Joe tried to start the engine, but it wouldn’t start. They drifted for hours before they were picked up. Rooney had someone look at the boat. There was sugar in the gasoline and the spark plug was missing. Guess whoever did it wasn’t taking any chances of us having spare parts.”

Wynne flinched. “Do you think whoever did it realized we were still down?”

“I think they would have had to.” Simon’s voice was grim.

Wynne put her hands over her face. “I’m scared, Simon. We almost died.”

His arm slid around her waist, and the spicy scent of his cologne slipped up her nose. His nearness comforted her. She leaned against him and buried her face in the rough fabric of his shirt.

“Hey, we’ll be okay. God’s in control of this. We’ll figure it out.” His other arm encircled her as well, and they stood like that for several long minutes with his
chin parked on the top of her head. She could have stayed like this forever. Simon made her feel protected and secure. The sensation felt foreign. But nice—very nice.

She finally sighed and pulled away. “We’d better go. Do we need to do anything about getting Joe and Bjorn?”

He shook his head. “They’re catching the ferry back.”

“What do we do now?”

“I’d rather not go diving until we get Joe and Bjorn back. They’ll be on guard now. We could slough off today and do nothing.”

“Or we could see what we can find out about what’s going on,” Wynne said. “What about Amanda’s brother, Alan? Could he have done this or do you still think it was more likely to have been Mike?”

“I have no idea.” Simon’s voice was weary and resigned. “Nothing makes sense. Let’s take the day off. Maybe go see Brian. I haven’t even checked in on the shipyard to see how things are going.”

“Let’s go there first, then we can see what Alan has to say.” A smile lifted Wynne’s lips. He wanted her to tag along. He could easily have dropped her home, but he took it for granted that they’d spend the day together.

He took her hand as they went toward the truck. Wynne thought the sun suddenly shone brighter and the blue sky turned brilliant. The thought that someone might be trying to harm them seemed suddenly ridiculous.

Simon drove to the boatyard and parked in the lot that held five other vehicles. The sound of hammering echoed from the side yard. A few workers milled around three large boats in various stages of completion.

“I don’t see Brian,” Wynne said.

“We’ll check around back. He’s generally out here somewhere. The boy works too hard, especially with Jerry gone. He thinks everything rides on his shoulders.”

Wynne pointed. “There he is.” A small boat on props held Brian’s rapt attention. She thought it looked like a dinghy. “Pretty small boat he’s working on.”

“We build whatever the customer wants. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Is the business really that bad?” she asked Simon as they skirted piles of lumber and made their way toward Brian.

“It’s pretty bad. I’ll be surprised if we make it to the end of the year. Jerry was the spark in the business. Since his disappearance, the sales have died.”

“I hate to hear that. Poor Brian. What will he do if the business goes under?”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Simon said. He lifted his hand in greeting. “Hey, Bri. How’s it going?”

Brian paused and wiped the perspiration from his brow. His smile did little to lighten the worry in his eyes. “I was beginning to think you’d deserted us.”

“We’ve had a few problems of late.” Simon ex
plained what had been happening with the search. “Did you need me here?”

“Not really, I was just rattling your chain. Things are fine.” Brian’s voice was overly hearty.

“New sales?”

Brian hesitated. “Not really. But I’ve got a few leads.”

“Sounds great.”

Listening to the men try for a positive note made Wynne wish she could do something. Would any of her colleagues be in the market for a new boat? She could make a few calls and see if she could drum up some business. She hated to see Brian handed another blow. Simon could weather the storm just fine—he had plenty of money. But Brian seemed the type who would be lost behind a desk. He belonged outside with a hammer in his hand.

“I think I’ll take a look at the books.” Simon glanced at Wynne. “You want to keep Brian company? I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Sure.” Wynne hopped on top of a two-by-four on a pair of sawhorses. “What’s this you’re building, Brian?”

His eyes lit up. “It’s going to be a motorboat for a man on the mainland. I’m designing it to be faster than usual.” He pointed out the lines of the boat.

Wynne watched the animation on his face. He certainly knew his subject.

He broke off and blushed. “Sorry. I tend to go on and on. I know it’s boring. You’re getting a glazed look on your face.”

“No, I find it interesting,” Wynne protested. “It’s great to be so passionate about your work.”

“Like you are about marine archaeology,” Brian said. “How long will you be here?”

“Until the end of August.”

Brian frowned. “You don’t sound excited. I thought you were looking forward to it.”

“I was.” Wynne looked away. “I like Eagle Island.”

“Get out while you can. The Thunderbird puts her claws in you and you’re trapped here for life.”

“You could leave if you wanted to.”

Brian gave a brief smile. “I’ll never leave, just like Simon won’t. This island is in our blood. There’s no place like it.”

Wynne knew Simon’s opinion, but she was curious about what Brian thought. He surely knew the boat better than anyone else. “Tell me a little bit about the yacht that sank. Do you think a design flaw could have caused it to go down?”

Brian hesitated. “I know Simon doesn’t think so, but you never know about a boat until it’s tested. I tried to tell Jerry not to go out without another boat along in case of a problem. He thought he was invincible.”

Wynne saw the pain on his face. “Any idea what could have gone wrong?”

“Not really. Now that the boat’s been found, we should know more soon. Are you going to help raise it?”

“If they need my advice, I’ll give it.”

Brian propped his foot on a boat prop. “You and
Simon seem awfully chummy. What’s going on with the two of you?”

Wynne’s face burned. “We’re friends and colleagues.”

“I think it’s more than that. Just be careful, Wynne. I like you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Wynne decided to abandon all pretense of disinterest. Brian knew Simon better than anyone else. “Why do you say that? Do you think Simon will hurt me?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sure you’re different from the rest.” Brian cut his glance away. “Here comes Simon now. Forget what I said. I don’t want Simon mad at me.”

He sounded almost afraid of his cousin. Wynne had to wonder why.

T
hey didn’t find Alan at home, and someone in town said he’d gone to the mainland for a few days. Wynne resolved to keep Simon at arm’s length. She’d been discounting the warnings until she spoke to Brian. She needed to remember she’d only known Simon a couple of weeks.

At church that next Sunday, he sat with her then joined the family for Sunday dinner. The afternoon seemed to drag on forever for Wynne. She wanted to believe Simon was the steady, thoughtful man he appeared, but with all the warnings, she didn’t know what to believe anymore.

The
Thunderbird
was repaired and the men returned to work by Monday. For the following week, they’d worked on the sunken steamer. Wynne was beginning to get used to the coldness of the water. They’d set out at daybreak that morning and had been working underwater for an hour.

A school of freshwater cod paused to inspect Wynne’s work, and she smiled at their inquisitiveness. No storms had swept through, and the clarity of the water was superb. She estimated visibility at close to a hundred feet. A perfect day for work.

She paused and hovered at the boat bow, then dug out her small shovel and began the tedious work of releasing the
Windigo Wind
from its watery grave. She dumped debris into a bucket, and when it was full, swam a few yards away and deposited the dirt on a mound that had been growing over the past week.

She glanced around and saw Simon hard at work on the other side of the bow. Storms had piled dirt and debris around the boat nearly up to its deck. She wished they had more help.

She began to dig around the hull again. Some of this debris looked like it had been buried a long time. The storm must have violently churned up the floor of the lake. Her shovel hit something, and she dug it in more deeply. It didn’t feel like rock. She used her fingers and pulled dirt away from the item.

It finally came loose. She picked up a small looped and formed piece of metal. For a moment she couldn’t place what it was. She turned it around in her hands. It looked strangely familiar. She’d seen something like this before. She brought it closer to her mask and studied it.

Her eyes widened when it finally clicked. A Viking belt buckle of a common type. It couldn’t be. Excitement began to shimmer along her spine. She waved and
tried to attract Simon’s attention, but he was intent on his work. Her fingers clutching the buckle, she swam to him. She touched him on the shoulder, and he looked up.

She opened her hand and showed him the buckle. He took it and examined it. She didn’t know if he would recognize it or not. Then his head jerked up, and she saw his eyes widen through his mask. They had to go topside and talk about this. She pointed up, and he nodded.

She swam up toward the boat, and Simon shot past her. By the time she hauled herself aboard the yacht, he had his mask down around his neck and was studying the buckle.

He looked up as she knelt beside him. “Is this what I think it is?” His voice shook.

She took it from him and rubbed some of the corrosion away. “It’s a Viking belt buckle. Bronze and fairly common.”

“You’ve discovered what I’ve been searching for years to find.” He sounded almost jealous.

“It was a fluke. If you’d been working on my side of the
Windigo Wind
, you would have found it.”

His shining face clouded. “Have we disturbed it too much with our work around the steamer?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve sifted every bucketful we’ve moved. But any new storm could disturb things as well so we have to work fast. I’d like to call in some help, some of my colleagues.”

“Can’t we do it more quietly than that? If the press hears about this, it will be a zoo.”

Wynne tried to think of another option. She desperately wanted help on this. It was too important to mess up. “Maybe Jake could help. Though we’d likely kill one another before a week was out.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed then he grinned. “I have a feeling your tongue could whip any man into shape.”

“You act like I’m a shrew.”

“Not a shrew but maybe a goose, honking and fussing for her way until the exhausted male sees the light.”

She wanted to be mad, but she could tell he was teasing, and she burst into laughter. “I’m surprised you haven’t found a new partner if I’m bothering you that much.”

“It’s kind of endearing,” he said.

The amusement in his eyes brought a lump to her throat. She turned away from the expression in his gaze and looked back at the buckle. “I wonder what else is down there?”

“I can’t wait to find out.”

“What about the steamer? We’ve come a long way on it.”

“It’s not going anywhere. Let’s get what Viking artifacts we can, then continue to investigate the steamer. We’ll be moving the debris from around it as we go anyway.”

“True. And once it’s free, we’ll lift her out of the way and see what’s under her.” She was getting more excited just thinking about it. This was a huge find. For decades, there had been speculation that Viking ships
had made it this far before Columbus ever discovered America. A discovery like this could turn history on its head.

The weather turned cold so fast up here, they wouldn’t have long to fully excavate. Once autumn moved in, storms could bury the site again. Of course, she would be in Australia by September anyway. The thought was strangely disquieting. She was beginning to love it here. All the feelings of belonging that she’d felt coming to the island as a child had surged again. It would be hard to leave.

She glanced at Simon. Once she was gone, would he miss her at all? Sometimes she was surprised to see an expression in his eyes that brought her heart to her throat. She didn’t examine it too closely because she didn’t want to face what it might mean.

“We’ve got most of the day. Want to get to work or should we call Jake in now?”

“I think I’d rather talk to him in person. Let’s do what we can ourselves today. I’ll contact him tonight.”

Simon was cold and tired by the time the day had ended. They had found no other artifacts, but they’d moved a lot of dirt and debris from around the hull of the
Windigo Wind
.

Wynne had pulled on terry sweats, but her lips were still blue, and her face looked pinched.

“I think spending so much time in this cold water is too much for you,” he told her. “You don’t have any fat to keep you warm.”

“I’m used to it.”

“You’re used to warmer water. Gitchee Gumee has a cold embrace.” He grabbed a blanket out of the cabinet and tossed it to her. She caught it and threw him a grateful smile. The blanket enveloped her, and a hint of color began to come back into her pale cheeks.

“Want some coffee?” Steadying herself against the pitching of the boat as it moved through the waves to shore, she got out the thermos.

“You’re braving my coffee? You must be cold.”

“I’d drink strychnine if it was hot. And your coffee almost qualifies.” She grinned at him and poured coffee into a foam cup.

He took it when she handed it to him and inhaled the scent. He’d tried to weaken it when he’d made it that morning and it smelled watered down to him. She poured herself a cup as well. Her movements were graceful, and he enjoyed watching her. He’d never met someone who was so completely at home on a boat.

With Joe at the helm and Bjorn working on sifting dirt they’d brought up from the bottom, Simon settled into the chair next to Wynne. He wished she’d talk about herself. The stories she could tell of her excavations would be riveting. Most women enjoyed talking about themselves, but Wynne had a deep affinity for people. She was a good listener. Still, he’d never really quizzed her. Maybe she’d open up if he did.

“Tell me about your last dive.”

“You were there. What do you mean?”

“No, I mean in Spain.”

Her face lit up. “My friends try to shut me up when I get started. You sure you want to hear this?”

“I’m fascinated by history and what can be found. If it gets too much for me, I’ll let you know.”

“I was excavating a Spanish galleon off the Spanish coast. We found several chests of treasure.” She rattled on about doubloons and a cannon.

Her hands joined the expressiveness of her face, and Simon was drawn into the world she described. He could almost see the barnacle-encrusted cannon and masts she’d found. Why had he never pursued his real passion like she did? It took courage to go off and do something so out of the realm of normal life.

He’d been lazy, living on the island and following in his father’s footsteps. A yearning to see and experience more stirred inside. He had the education. He’d minored in archaeology, where he first discovered his passion for Viking remains. But there was no reason he had to confine his interest to that period. He could get more schooling if he needed to, then find a job on a team like Wynne’s.

Maybe on her team. The thought of her leaving the island in a few weeks disconcerted him more than he expected. He was getting used to having her around. But was that all it was? He was beginning to think his heart might be in danger. His relationship with Amanda had drifted toward marriage because it was something Amanda wanted. He’d chosen the easiest course of action then, just like he did with his career. He didn’t want to make that same mistake again.

Close proximity to Wynne was different. She seemed to have no interest in him as a man. He’d better guard his heart or he’d find himself yearning for a woman who wouldn’t give him the time of day.

The boat dock appeared ahead, and he gladly relinquished his thoughts. Wynne shrugged off the blanket and went to tie up to the piling. The scent of fish from the nets spread on the dock wafted in the light breeze. Shouts of children fishing along the dock and the hum of other engines sounded familiar and common after their exciting find.

What would everyone think when they heard Viking artifacts had been discovered? He realized the find wouldn’t change anyone’s life on this island. Men would continue to fish the lake, the fish canneries would continue to operate, tourists would still come to the quaint little town of Turtle Town.

Simon felt suddenly overwhelmed by how small his life was. Yet he’d been content, until now. Had Wynne opened his eyes?

“You’re looking at me weird. Do I have dirt on my nose?” Wynne rubbed her face. Her lips were full of pink now, instead of blue, and her eyes were bright. It hadn’t taken her long to recover from Superior’s cold grip.

“No, I was just lost in thought.” He joined her on the dock. “Want to get some dinner? I’m starved.”

“Why don’t you come home with me? Dinner will be on the table by the time we get there.”

“Should we call ahead and warn them?”

“Moxie will fix plenty. She’s the most efficient housekeeper on the island. There’s always too much food.” Her flip-flops twacked against the soles of her feet as she followed him toward the truck.

Wynne stopped and he almost barreled into her. “Sorry.”

“My fault. I think I see Jake’s head in the window of the diner. Maybe we should talk to him now.”

“Yeah.” Simon wasn’t eager to bring someone else in on their project, and he realized it wasn’t only because he didn’t want to share the find, or his building the relationship with Wynne. But they had no choice.

Wynne ducked into the café. Sure enough, Jake was seated by the window. Wynne stopped in the doorway and smiled at her brother. “Skye will have your hide if you’re late for dinner. What are you doing here?”

“She’s getting her hair cut, and I’m killing time.”

“She’s not cutting her hair off, is she?” Wynne asked, her voice full of alarm.

“No, it’s just a trim. Though she’s been talking about hacking if off when the baby comes.”

Simon’s gaze wandered to Wynne’s long braid. He’d hate it if she cut her hair. The realization that he had an opinion about it startled him. A woman’s haircut was generally the last thing he noticed.

The waitress approached. Eagle Island was too small not to know pretty much everyone. Christy was the daughter of one of Simon’s employees. She’d hung around the office all last summer before he became
engaged to Amanda. She was pretty in a vaporous sort of way.

“Can I bring you some coffee?” Christy asked.

She batted her long lashes at Simon, and he looked away. No sense in encouraging her.

“We have a project that might interest you,” Wynne said. “Scoot over and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Great.” Jake moved over for Wynne to join him in the booth.

Simon sat across from them. Was Wynne avoiding sitting beside him? He’d noticed she’d been withdrawn a little over the last few days.

“What’s up?” Jake folded his hands in front of him. He glanced at his watch. “Make it snappy. I have to meet my lovely wife in fifteen minutes.”

“This.” Wynne opened her palm and showed him the buckle. She’d been eager to see his reaction. Jake used to eat, sleep and dream Vikings when they were teenagers. He knew more about them than most people.

He picked it up reverently. “Where’d you get this?”

“In Lake Superior.”

“You’re kidding!” His voice was avid. “Viking origin, probably fourteenth century.” He stared at her. “Are there any more?”

“Not yet. That’s where you come in. We need some help to excavate the site before autumn storms start.”

Christy was still hanging around the table. “I’ll help, too,” she put in eagerly.

“That would be great. Are you sure you have time?” Wynne’s voice was gentle.

Simon studied Wynne’s face. Her smile to the younger woman seemed genuine. He thought he detected pity in her gaze. Though he hated to bring more people into the project, Christy could be an asset. She was a quick learner and had helped out in his office during her summers all through high school.

“I’m a teacher’s aide at the elementary school so I’m off for the summer. I’ve been bored, and this job is the pits. This will be great.”

“Great. I’ll show you how to sift through the buckets of dirt. You can do that aboard the boat while we’re diving.” Wynne looked at Jake.

“Are you in?”

“Do you even have to ask? This is too exciting a find to pass up.” His eyes gleamed.