Storm Surge (8 page)

“Gotcha,” the woman said with a grin. “Can I help you with something?”

“I was planning to buy a paper to check out the local spots, but I have to ask, do you archive old editions anywhere? The library, maybe, or…?”

“Something in particular you’re interested in?”

“A charter boat went down. A sailboat. In high seas, I believe. In October, year before last.”

“A charter out in October?” The woman shook her head at what she obviously viewed as an imprudent undertaking. “What was the name of the ship?”

“I…I don’t know. But the owner, the captain, would have been Edwin Waters.”

With a nod, the clerk began to type something on the keyboard at her elbow. After several minutes, she shrugged apologetically. “Are you sure he operated out of this harbor?”

“That’s what I was told,” Paige said. “Or just sailed from here that day.”

“Wait one sec.” The woman resumed typing and read through the results that popped up after. “Here’s a charter went down. Not much of a story. Just a paragraph. The sailboat capsized in heavy seas during a storm. Never should have been out there, if you ask me,” she added in an aside. “A couple of commercial fishing boats made an attempt to aid the ship when the SOS came, but without success. It’s not even mentioned here how many went down with the ship. I would assume he had a crew, passengers? Doesn’t say. We picked this up from another paper. Not one of our stories.”

Paige craned her neck in an attempt to view the monitor. “Did the ship operate out of your harbor here?”

“Can’t tell from this, but I doubt it. We would have been all over that if it had. I’m sorry. Is this someone you knew?”

“Not well,” Paige said, and then left with a thank you and no gazette.

Locating a bench down the block, Paige confiscated it from a child with an ice cream cone whose parents were calling him anyway and planted her rear end in the middle. Masts with sails furled bobbed from side to side in the near distance against a bluebell sky. Between whitewashed buildings, Paige glimpsed sailing craft and motorized boats, but no commercial vessels. Not surprising, since the town appeared to be a playground of the moneyed crowd and sightseers. She would head toward the docks in a few minutes, though she didn’t anticipate receiving any hard facts. For now, she needed to think. Sit and think about what she had ever hoped to gain from her search.

“Excuse me, I think you dropped this.”

Paige glanced at the hand extended before her face. Calloused and hard. A working man’s hand. She looked up.

For a fleeting moment, she thought she knew him from somewhere, but then she realized he possessed what she and her friends at home had dubbed “the everyman face.” The high cheekbones and chiseled jaw advertisers used to grace ads by the hundreds in glossy magazines. The kind of man women wished they knew. The guy standing in front of her, however, hadn’t looked like that in a while. One too many battles had shattered his handsome countenance, and time had healed it in ways it shouldn’t have. The expression on his face made Paige draw back.

“I don’t know what that is,” she said with a nod at his hand, “but it’s not mine.”

“Are you sure? Take another look.”

She frowned at the folded cardstock printed with a colorful, wrinkled depiction on the inner side. “I’m positive.”

“Take it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It belongs to you.”

“I’m going to call the police.” Paige reached for her cell phone and pulled it from her purse. With a laugh, the man flung the object down at her feet and strode away. Clutching the phone in her fist, Paige watched until he was safely out of sight before bending to pick the article off the sidewalk. She grabbed the edge of paper with her fingernails, setting it down on the bench at her side, afraid something might fall out. After a moment, she used the edge of her phone to spread the cardstock flat. Her heart skipped a solid beat.

She hadn’t dropped this. Not here. The last time she had seen this particular item had been three nights ago, where it had marked her place in her book on the nightstand.

Dan observed Paige’s entry into the diner with a clinical eye. She walked with an irate stride. He supposed that was good. When he’d spoken to her on the phone, she hadn’t been angry. She’d been afraid.

She stomped over to where he sat and dropped down into the booth on the opposite side of the table, plunking her purse onto the bench seat beside her. “Are you eating?”

“Waiting for you.”

“I just want a coffee.”

The waitress was already writing down the order. “And you, sir?” the girl asked.

“Same. And a piece of that blueberry pie.”

Dan waited until the girl left before speaking again. “Were they any help? The uniforms up there?”

“Not really,” said Paige. “I gave them a description. They took the damned bookmark.”

Dan grunted. “What’s the problem with that? Does it have some kind of sentimental value?”

“No. But I thought perhaps you could get fingerprints from it.”

“So can they, Paige. That’s probably why they kept it.”

She exhaled loudly and began tapping the fingers of her right hand in a rolling rhythm across the laminate before glancing in an agitated fashion over her shoulder. “Where’s that coffee?”

“Is it possible you’ve already had enough?”

She threw herself forward with a hiss like a steam locomotive. “Are you freaking kidding?” she demanded in a loud whisper. “How long was I back in Alcina Cove before some psycho broke into my place and stole a goddamned bookmark? Then he trails me two days later for an hour and a half without my ever noticing the same car in my rearview, only to give it back to me. Who the hell is this guy? What does he want?”

Dan shook his head. “And you didn’t recognize him?”

“No!”

“All right. Calm down.” Dan leaned back against the seat while the waitress deposited the coffee and his pie on the table. He was grateful for the interruption as Paige got a reign on her hysteria in the interim. He shoved a forkful of pastry into his mouth and took his time chewing while he mulled the situation over a little longer. “Did you piss somebody off?”

“In three and a half days?”

“Right. Although, I’ve seen you in action…” He rubbed the bruise on his forehead with a knuckle.

Paige choked on a mouthful of coffee. “Not funny.”

“Understood.”

“And I’m sorry.” She jerked her chin in the direction of his head. “About that.”

Dan released a discreet sigh, digging into his pie again. He’d looked her up in the high school yearbook and realized why he’d had difficulty remembering her. They hadn’t run in the same circles, and she’d been rather non-descript in both looks and mode of dress. It was a pity she’d turned out so damned good-looking all these years later. She wasn’t his type at all. He liked his women… well, he liked his women. But in particular, he liked them a wee bit more relaxed than Paige. He was fairly certain she could be a handful. For any man.

“You married?”

She straightened, lowering her coffee mug to the table. “Why? Do you think this is some estranged husband sending me a nasty-gram?”

Yeah. A handful. “Something like that,” he said.

Lifting her mug again, she tipped back her head and swallowed the remainder of her coffee. As if on cue the waitress appeared behind her shoulder, brandishing the pot. Dan shook his head. The girl retreated.

Paige shifted, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a tin of mints and offered him one. He declined. “The guy I saw today and the guy I saw on the beach the other night are not the same.”

“All right,” he said. “That’s…something, I guess.”

“I just thought I would mention that. Liam suggested the fellow on the beach might be a ghost.”

The blueberry pie withered from the sudden spurt of acid in Dan’s stomach. “Your neighbor said that, did he?”

“What do you think?”

“I think…I think I have no opinion on that matter.”

She eyed him from beneath lowered brows. “I don’t believe in ghosts, either.”

That’s not what I said
, Dan thought, but kept his mouth shut. He had a reputation and a job to keep safe. “What I do think, though, is that you shouldn’t return to the cottage.”

“I paid for the entirety of the summer in advance.”

Good God, and stubborn, too
. “Considering your safety is an issue, you could probably get your money back.”

“I’ll think about it.” She glanced around for the waitress, who was fortunately nowhere in sight.

“You’ll think about it?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll think about it.”

“Yes.” She began to drum her fingers lightly on the table again.

“How many cups of coffee have you had?”

Folding her other hand around the offending one, she dragged them both into her lap. “Point taken. They kept bringing them to me at the station up there, and I kept drinking. By the way, my dad’s ship didn’t operate out of that harbor. The only report anyone had was a nameless sailboat going down in a sudden storm, nothing about captain or crew or recovery of any part of the ship.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you get a chance to check the archives?”

“Not yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not sure I want to deal with any of that right now.”

“Can’t blame you.” He nodded at the server, who deposited the check on the table. Paige reached for the paper, but he beat her to it.

“Maybe you could come back with me,” Paige said, “for a couple of minutes only and check the cottage again before I lock myself in?”

She wasn’t coming on to him. No, she was serious. But a return to the cottage could prove problematic. “I have plans.”

“Oh.” She gathered her purse. “Okay. The guy would be stupid to come back, right?”

“I would hope. But you can’t count on that. I can get one of the on-duty officers to accompany you. Or you could call your neighbor. Liam…Gray, is it?”

“Yes. Liam Gray.”

She sounded odd. He frowned. “Would that be a problem? You should talk to him about this.”

“Why?”

“Because you should.” Dan slid to the end of the bench and stood. “He’s the closest neighbor. He should know.”

“I thought you didn’t trust him.”

“I was obviously wrong, unless he’s a master of disguise. And in the meantime, I’ve also requested an increased patrol of the area. You need anything, 911, got it?”

Paige thanked him at the register while he was paying and headed for the door. “I want to get back before dark.”

“Sure. And talk to Liam.”

She didn’t answer. He watched her through the glass as she crossed the parking lot to her car. She looked around before she got in, including checking the back seat. Good. And she needed to talk to Liam Gray. That guy had some explaining to do.

* * * *

Paige turned off the ignition and leaned her head back against the headrest but didn’t remove her seatbelt. Something about the containment, snug across her hips, her chest, felt safe for the moment, comforting. The doors had automatically unlocked upon putting the car in park. She hit the button that secured them and heard four locks click into place with a satisfying thump.

Next door, the setting sun glazed the upstairs windows in gold. Paige tried to recall the good times she’d had in that house. They had to have existed. She hadn’t been an unhappy child. Not always. But she should have stayed away.

Who was that guy today? Some unstable individual she’d passed on the sidewalk in Alcina Cove who, in his lunacy, chose to fixate on her? If so, she reckoned he would be more dangerous in his unpredictability than if it had been someone she had once known but didn’t remember.

Understanding she couldn’t stay locked in the car all night, Paige removed the keys from the ignition, steeling herself to get out. In one movement, she removed her seatbelt and threw open the door, scrambling out and upright beside the car, purse in hand, heart beating in her ears.

Inhale. Exhale. Close door. Lock it. Move.

Years ago, she’d seen a movie in the theater about dinosaurs in a park who had escaped to rampage, stalk, and try to eat the few people on an island. She’d only been seven or eight years old, but still mature enough to recognize the people were actors and the dinosaurs not real. But that night, coming home, walking up to the front door beside her parents, the bushes had rattled, from the wind, perhaps, or a small animal. The fear she’d experienced, no matter how irrational, had been genuine. She felt that way now, standing beside her car with the cottage door key in her hand. Exposed and vulnerable and filled with the certain knowledge something far beyond the realm of reality was about to gobble her whole.

In short bursts, like a mismanaged puppet, Paige sped across the open expanse toward Liam’s front door. She faltered on the walkway. With the clarity of the immediate, she recalled the night of flight more than sixteen years ago in every detail, seeing herself and her mother stumbling with the weight of the suitcase between them toward the car. The urgency, the devastating confusion, mingled with her fear in the present. Overwhelmed, she sat down hard on the huge white rock beside the walkway—the one her father had placed there long ago as a centerpiece for Debra Waters’ planned garden that had never come to fruition—and wept.

A hand dropped gently on her shoulder blade. Paige rocketed up and away.

“Paige? What is it?”

Paige spun to face Liam on the other side of the rock. “Nothing. I’m sick and tired of crying.”

“Paige.”

“What?”

“Your… your friend, Dan Stauffer. He called me.”

“Why would he do that?” Paige demanded, beginning to pace on the walkway. “And he’s not my friend. Not really. I suppose he is. I don’t know what he is! Does he think I can’t handle this on my own?”

“You shouldn’t have to. And you did call him. You must have decided you needed something from somebody.”

She stopped, fists clenched, staring at him in challenge. “I would have called you if I’d had your number.”

“I’m not the police.”

“I don’t care. You’re the one I would have called.”

“Paige.”