Stormcatcher (13 page)

T
he house was dark when Simon got out of the truck. In his imagination, he saw Wynne waiting for him at home, then he dismissed the thought. Amanda had wanted this house, not him. He couldn’t bring Wynne to a place another woman designed.

What was he thinking? He’d known Wynne Baxter for less than a month. How could he be thinking of marriage already? But he was. He’d recognized something in her that spoke to his soul in a way he’d never experienced. She completed him. He’d never thought of something like that. Always before, he’d analyzed the pros and cons of a woman as with a merger. Assets and liabilities, that’s what he knew best. This wild emotion that made his palms go sweaty was outside his experience.

He suddenly became aware of a movement to his left and jerked around to meet the danger. His fists dropped when he recognized Sheriff Mitch Rooney.
“That’s a good way to get clobbered, Rooney,” he said. “Especially with everything that’s been going on lately.”

“We raised the yacht today,” Rooney said, his voice deadpan and even.

“I thought you were going to have Wynne help you.”

“We managed without her.”

Rooney was acting weird, Simon thought. His hands dangled at his side as though he was too tired to raise them.

“Find anything?”

“Yeah.” Rooney took a step closer. “A big hole blown in the underside.”

Simon’s attention sharpened. “Not caused by the shipwreck?”

“No, it was caused by an explosion from the inside. Murder.” Rooney seemed to shake himself. “I think it’s time you told me about the argument with Amanda.”

“I told you it doesn’t have anything to do with this case.” Simon wanted to stride past the sheriff and gain the safety of the house. He stood his ground.

“That won’t fly anymore, Simon. If I don’t get a satisfactory answer, I’m going to have to haul you in for questioning. The judge won’t want to be disturbed at this hour, so if you don’t want to spend the night in jail, I suggest you start talking. And know I’m going to take your secretary in for questioning, too. You might as well tell me before she does.”

He held out his hands. “Looks like you’ll have to
take me downtown then.” The clink of the handcuffs startled him, then the sheriff shoved him toward the squad car.

The moss and leaves under her feet seemed alive as Wynne strode through the forest. Blue spruce and hemlock snatched at her clothing as she followed the path to the folly. She’d forgotten all about this place until Becca had mentioned it last night. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her when she woke at daybreak, and she’d slipped out while everyone slept.

She needed to think. About Simon and her career—her entire future. It had once seemed so certain. Now she didn’t know if she was right side up or upside down. She followed the twisting path toward the meadow.

Dawn had quickly yielded to the hot morning sunshine. She stepped from the shelter of the trees into the clearing and surveyed the ruins. The folly had been a favorite place for her and Becca to play when they were small. It was even more decrepit now. And unsafe. She’d best not investigate now, though it was fun to see it again.

She turned to go back to the house and almost knocked down an Ojibwa woman. About sixty, the woman’s hair was still black and silky with faint wings of white at the temple. Dressed in a calico skirt and red peasant blouse, the buckskin vest she wore over her outfit was stained with berries and other juices Wynne couldn’t identify.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” Wynne took a step back.

The woman didn’t smile or acknowledge Wynne’s apology. Her black eyes bored into Wynne’s.

Wynne began to feel a sense of unease at the intensity of the woman’s gaze. A crow gave a hoarse caw from the top of a sycamore tree, and the harshness raised the hair on the back of Wynne’s neck.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

The woman took a step closer. “No good will come of disturbing the dead.”

Wynne assumed the woman was talking about Jerry and Amanda. “You need to talk to the sheriff about that. I have nothing to do with it.”

“The white men who came to these waters long ago were representatives of the Thunderbird. Let them rest in peace. You have no right to disturb their rest.”

Wynne realized the woman somehow knew they’d found the remains of the Viking ship. “Who told you about the Viking ship?”

The woman’s intent stare never wavered. “The Thunderbird will carry you off to feed her young if you continue to disturb the remains. This will be your only warning. Stop before it’s too late.” The woman turned and disappeared into the woods before Wynne could form an answer.

Wynne stared after her. She wished people could understand how important archaeological discovery was. Everywhere she went, people objected for some reason or another. This was no different.

In spite of telling herself these were the same ob
jections she’d encountered countless times before, a chill raced down her spine. There had been so much menace in the matter-of-fact way the woman had uttered her warning. Ridiculous.

She refused to allow the woman’s ramblings to disturb this time alone. A large rock sat in the sunshine, and she settled herself on it. “God, what am I supposed to do?”

She wished He’d give her a sign, some indication of what path to follow. If she followed her heart, she’d give up her dream. If she followed her dream, her heart would be broken. It was a no-win situation. Only God could figure it out. After fifteen minutes, she decided He wasn’t speaking.

Wynne rose and hurried back the way she’d come. Maybe Max or Becca would have some idea of who the woman was she’d run into. She burst out of the trees and into the backyard of Windigo Manor. She barreled into Max’s chest.

He gripped her by the shoulders and steadied her. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”

“Sorry,” she panted. “There was a woman back there.” Aware she was babbling, she stopped and took a deep, calming breath. “Someone knows we’ve found the Viking boat.” She quickly told him what the Ojibwa woman had said.

“This isn’t good. If she knows, the word will get out. If everyone knows, Mike Wilson will likely show up next, and we’ll have a fight on our hands.”

“We’d better get out to the site right away,” Wynne
agreed. “Let me change into my suit. You call Simon.” She rushed upstairs and changed into her swimsuit, then pulled shorts and a tank top over it.

As she stepped into the living room, her gaze wandered to the TV where the anchorman was giving the weather forecast. She listened, her frown deepening. She and Becca looked at one another.

“The big storm will be here in two days,” Becca said.

“We have to work fast,” she agreed. “The storm could bury the remains too deep to retrieve. The woman said the Thunderbird didn’t like it. With this storm blowing in, she would say the Thunderbird was determined to thwart our efforts.”

Becca looked confused. “What woman?”

Wynne told her about the Ojibwa woman. A name on the television caught their attention. She turned and listened then looked at her sister. “Simon’s been arrested?” she said in shock. “But how can that be?”

“You’d better get to the jail,” Becca said. “Max will take you. I’ll get him.” She rushed from the room and left Wynne staring at the television.

Max burst into the room followed by Becca and Gram. Gram was wringing her hands. “We have to do something, Max. We know Simon is no murderer.”

“I know, Gram. We’ll get him out,” he said grimly. “Will you watch the kids? I think Wynne might like Becca along.”

“Of course,” Gram said. She took the baby from Becca.

Wynne followed Max and Becca to his truck. She stared out the window as Max barreled down the road to town. What possible evidence could the sheriff have that would have caused him to arrest Simon? Could she have been wrong about Simon?”

“I see that look on your face,” Becca said. “Don’t go there. Simon isn’t guilty. Have a little faith in him, Wynne. I think you love him. I’ve seen it in your eyes the last few days. But love is nothing without trust. This is one of those times you have to step out on faith.”

“I’m trying,” she said weakly. “How do I get past my doubts?”

“I think you have to listen, Wynne. Trust the Spirit of God who reveals truth to you. I think sometimes you run things over too much in your mind without asking for God to reveal truth to your heart. Listen for a change and stop the inner dialogue.”

Wynne’s spirit smote her. Becca was right. She needed to shut up and listen. She listened to everyone else, but tended to tune out God. “Okay,” she said meekly. She leaned her head back against the headrest. Quieting her heart, she listened for the still, small voice inside. The voice she often shouted to silence with her thoughts.

When she opened her eyes, she knew God had answered. All it had taken was for her to shut up long enough for His words to get through. She smiled at Max. “Let’s go get Simon out of jail.”

“Attagirl,” he said. He maneuvered the truck through the pedestrians and parked in front of the jail.

Wynne was out almost before the truck had rolled to a stop. She took the sidewalk at a dead run and burst into the sheriff’s office with Max and Becca on her heels.

The woman behind the counter jumped defensively when Wynne banged her fist on the counter. “I want to see Simon Lassiter,” Wynne said.

“Just a minute, I’ll get the sheriff,” the woman said. She rose and hurried down the hall. It was nearly five minutes later before she returned. “Sheriff Rooney will be here in a few minutes. He was out late last night and isn’t in the office yet.”

“I’ll wait.” Wynne went to the row of chairs along the back wall. Max and Becca joined her. She’d flipped through a hunting magazine when Rooney finally showed up.

His uniform was a bit rumpled, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Wariness crept into his face when he saw the three of them. “Follow me,” he barked. He strode down the hall to the last office on the right. “Have a seat. I’d offer you coffee but it’s yesterday’s and it was lousy then.” He dropped into the cracked leather chair behind the desk.

“I want to see Simon,” Wynne began.

“I figured you weren’t here to shoot the breeze with me,” Rooney sighed. “I’ll let you see him, but I need you to get him to talk to me. He’s hiding something. And until I know what it is, my gut tells me it has something to do with the murders.”

“Murders!” Wynne exclaimed at the same time as Max and Becca.

“Yep. An explosion sank the yacht. It was no accident.”

Wynne shuddered. Though she knew it had to have been murder with all the things that had been happening, she’d still hoped there was some other explanation. “Let me talk to Simon,” she said slowly.

“Follow me.” Rooney stood and took keys from his desk drawer then led her to the confinement area.

The hall stank of despair. Wynne wanted to run for the sunshine, but she wanted Simon more than she wanted air.

“Wynne!”

She heard Simon call her name just ahead to the left. She bolted past Rooney and reached the cell before he did. She thrust her fingers through the bars and touched his. He looked tired and drawn, but the light in his eyes warmed her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. He bent down and kissed her fingertips.

She wanted to tear down the bars and free him with her bare hands. She turned to Rooney. “Let him out. You have no cause to keep him.”

“Hold your horses,” he grumbled. He unlocked the cell and swung open the door. “You got fifteen minutes.”

Wynne paid no attention. She barreled into the cell and threw herself into Simon’s arms. He caught her and kissed her then buried his face in her hair.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“What’s happened? How could he arrest you?” she demanded.

“He can’t keep me. He has no evidence.”

She pulled back and looked up into his face. “He says you’re hiding something. Are you?”

“He wants to know about the argument. I can’t tell him. He’ll throw away the key and I’ll never get out of here.”

Wynne’s gaze searched his face. “I learned something today. It’s about faith and trust and truth. God is truth, and He never steers us wrong. If we listen to Him, He guides us into what’s true and right and good.”

His hands dropped from her shoulders. He slumped. “You want me to tell him?”

She regarded him steadily. “Yes. Let’s both trust God and step out in faith.”

He straightened his shoulders. “Okay. But I want you there.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

S
imon sat in Rooney’s office. Wynne sat beside him and held his hand. Becca and Max were waiting in the reception area. Simon returned the pressure of Wynne’s fingers. His pulse throbbed.

Rooney pushed a mini tape deck forward. “Okay if I turn this on?”

“I guess.” Simon’s mouth was dry. “Can I have some water?”

“I’ll get it.” Wynne jumped up and went to the water cooler and filled two paper cups.

Simon took a gulp and the cool water cleared his jumbled thoughts. He drew in a deep breath. “Okay, you wanted to know what the argument was about. You already know I found out she was embezzling from me. The rest of it is just a continuation of the sordid mess. Amanda told me she had taken the money for Jerry to invest in the business. That he’d promised her a huge return on her money if she could get him a
hundred thousand dollars.” He didn’t dare look at Wynne. He didn’t want to see disappointment in her eyes.

“And?” Rooney prompted.

“And if she could make enough money, she wouldn’t need me,” Simon finished. “She was using me for my money. She’d never loved me. I was just her latest cash cow.”

“And that angered you, I’m sure. How did you blow the hole in the boat?”

“I didn’t. She begged me to cover her embezzlement or she’d implicate me in the crime as well.”

“Blackmail.” Rooney’s expression was deadpan.

“Not really. I wasn’t afraid of her. I told her I’d cover for her, but our engagement was off. She told me to meet her at lunch and she’d give me my money back—that she’d get it back from Jerry. I went to meet her, but she never showed. I heard she’d gone off on the boat with her suitcase, and I knew she’d scammed me. She had no intention of paying back the money.”

A weight felt as if it had lifted from Simon’s shoulders. He squeezed Wynne’s fingers again. She was right. It felt good to get it all out in the open. It sounded bad, but hiding it had been worse. He dared a glance at her and smiled at the trust he saw in her eyes. His revelation hadn’t shattered her faith in him.

“That’s it?” Rooney sounded disgusted.

“Yeah.”

Rooney heaved an exasperated sigh. “Get out of here. I’ve already heard most of this.”

Max drove back to Windigo Manor while Wynne told Max and Becca what had happened. She kept glancing at Simon, but he sat with his eyes closed and his head on the headrest. He must have had a rough night. He kept possession of her hand though.

Once they reached Windigo Manor, Simon pulled her to one side. “Let’s go check on our Viking treasure,” he said. “What if my being arrested allowed someone to steal it?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she said soothingly. “But sure, we can go. Do you need to call the others?”

“I guess we could use some backup.” He dragged his cell phone out and called Joe and Bjorn. “Bjorn is busy but Joe can come.”

As they hurried out to the boat dock, Simon took her hand in a natural way that caught her by surprise. The warm clasp of his fingers around hers sent a rush of heat to her cheeks. She clung to his hand as they hurried along the uneven ground to the waiting boat. Simon stepped aboard then helped her hop onto the deck. Her sandal snagged on something, and she lost her balance and fell against him.

He caught her against his chest. She could hear the way the thud of his heart sped up under her ear. The masculine scent of him dried her mouth. And she had the most insane urge to slide her arms around his neck and lift her face up to meet his. What would he do if she did that? Run the other way, most likely, though she knew he wasn’t immune to
her. Still, was it the same depth of feeling that raged in her own heart?

While all the thoughts and impressions raced through her head, she realized Simon was still holding her, and she was still liking it. She looked up into his eyes. The expression in his face made it impossible to move. His right hand slid up her arm, clear up to her cheek. He rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone.

“You have the most expressive face I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you, Wynne.”

“I’m trying to trust in that area, too,” she croaked. She couldn’t have moved away if her life depended on it.

“You’re different from every other woman I’ve ever met. Let your heart tell you the truth of this.” His left arm cinched her more tightly against his chest, and his lips came down to meet hers.

A myriad of emotions raced through her—elation, desire, and fear all vied for control. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in the warmth of his lips. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe.

Caution screamed for her attention, and she finally dragged her mouth from his.

He slowly opened his eyes. “Wow, again,” he said. “Is it going to be that way every time I kiss you?”

“I don’t know.” She bit her trembling lower lip. “I think we’d better stick to business.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he said softly. His eyes crinkled up at the corners as the tenderness in his eyes grew.

Wynne knew she had to move or she would be lost in that gaze. She stepped back and dropped her arms from around him. “We’d better get out there. We don’t have long.”

“This isn’t over,” Simon said. “When we have time, we’re going to talk about us.”

“There is no us,” Wynne said. But she knew it was a feeble excuse.

“Maybe not yet,” was all Simon said as he helped her aboard the boat.

Her heart resumed its normal rhythm by the time Joe joined them and they cast off. She hardly dared look at Simon as they rode the waves to the coordinates. They suited up and went overboard. The shock of cold water helped get her thoughts organized again. They would have time to sort this out later.

Wynne sank down to the bottom of the lake. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed. She gave Simon the thumbs-up, and he nodded, his smile lifting behind his mask. They worked for two hours then headed back to the boat.

Rising to the sunshine, Wynne was ready for a break. She wanted time to examine what had happened the last few days. She felt like her life was a fast steamer on a track to the unknown, and she didn’t know if she should jump ship or not.

Simon could barely keep his thoughts on the job at hand, and that fact was an indication of how powerful his feelings for Wynne had developed. The Viking ship
had obsessed him for years, but what he felt when he kissed Wynne had been a firestorm of emotion he’d never experienced. Diving in the cold water cleared his head, but it didn’t clear the yearning he felt to have Wynne in his arms again.

By the end of the day, they had gathered Viking jewelry, combs, knives and beads. Their treasure had been cataloged and locked away. “I’m done working for the day. How about some fun?”

Wynne’s concentrated frown smoothed, and she looked up at him from where she crouched, sifting the last pail of muck from the bottom of the lake. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about a picnic on Gull Island?”

A delighted smile lifted her lips. “I’ve been wanting to get out there and go bird-watching. Becca says she’s seen a snowy egret there.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen all kinds of birds out there. There’s a nice beach, too. Not that we want to get back in the water.”

“I don’t know, I could work on my tan a bit. We don’t get much sun being covered with a dry suit and underwater all day.”

Simon’s gaze lingered on her face. She had a light tan, and the sunshine had popped out a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

Color spread over her cheeks at his perusal. “I wish you’d stop looking at me like that,” she murmured.

“Like what?” He was getting a kick out of disconcerting her.

“You know perfectly well what I mean.” She looked away. “What about food for this picnic?”

“We’ll drop Joe off at the dock, then stop at the café and get fried chicken and coleslaw. They’ve also got a sinfully rich chocolate brownie.”

“Now you’re talking my language.”

He loved to watch the way her face changed expression. There were so many facets of her personality that drew him. She didn’t hide behind a mask like so many women. She put herself out there for a friend to accept or reject, and Simon found himself embracing that transparency. It was a refreshing change.

They stopped by the café and loaded up on food, then got back on board and headed out to Gull Island. Wynne sat in the bow with the wind whipping her long black hair back from her face.

The island came into view, and he guided the boat to the sheltered inlet, then dropped anchor. He handed Wynne the food. “You carry the food, and I’ll carry you.”

Her eyebrows winged up. “I don’t need to be carried.”

“Have you ever been here before?” He grimaced. “It’s mucky here and the lily pads will try to swallow you whole.” He jumped into the water. “Come here and quit arguing.”

A smile eased her frown. “Chivalry isn’t dead, huh?” Holding the sack of food, she slipped her arms around his neck and leaned into his chest.

He slid his arm under her knees and lifted her from
the boat. The mud sucked at his bare feet, and he staggered when a rogue wave struck him in the back. A mat of lily pads wrapped itself around his knees, and he struggled to free himself.

Wynne was shaking, and he looked into her face. She was struggling to smother her laughter, but it burst out when their gazes connected. “Some knight you are. You’re trapped, aren’t you?”

“Of course not.” He jerked on his right foot, but it held fast in the mud. He tried the other foot. No luck. “Okay, maybe I am stuck.” If it weren’t for the smile on her face, he might have been embarrassed, but the delight in her eyes made a deep rumble of laughter erupt from his chest.

“You’re enjoying this too much. Maybe I should let the lily pads have you.” He acted like he was going to toss her into the waves, and she clutched him tighter.

“If I go down, so do you,” she warned. The sunlight glinted in her hair and lit her face.

“I’m convinced.” He tried to pull on his foot again. “Any ideas how we get out of this? I can see the headlines now—Famous Marine Archaeologist Found Floating Among The Lily Pads.”

She giggled again, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard someone laugh with such delight and abandon. He could spend a lifetime listening to her laughter.

The realization tightened his face, and his smile died. His gaze searched her face and lingered on her lips.

The merry light in her eyes faded, and she looked up at him with a transparent expression.

Simon knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he couldn’t resist the way she caught her lower lip in her white teeth and gazed at him with such yearning. He bent his head and his lips found hers. Her warm breath whispered across his face, and he inhaled the scent of her—the hint of mint on her breath, the underlying aroma of fresh lake water and herbal scent in her hair. Her lips were warm and yielding under his, and she kissed him back.

When he pulled away, they were both breathless.

“I don’t think that’s going to get us free from the lily pads,” Wynne whispered.

“Maybe not, but it sure makes our predicament more fun.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t carry it off.

He loved Wynne Baxter, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do about it.