Chapter Eleven
lower, David pushed the engine. A last test that would also get him home before dusk. He could either catch the end of the meeting Captain Henegan told him about or track down his boss. Perhaps both. The more the situation stewed in David’s mind, the more concerned he became.
He had to close up the boat and the shop before he found his boss. The feeling that he would be too late urged him to work faster. Would Captain Mann fill him in? Or would pressing the issue cost David his job?
The question made David pause before leaping to the dock to haul in the boat by its mooring lines. He swiftly secured it, giving an extra tug as he prayed. God, I need your wisdom. I can’t lose this job, but I can’t look the other way if something underhanded is happening.
Whether God’s direction or just an instinctual feeling, David decided not to go to the meeting. If Captain Mann was at the shack, he’d talk with him. Otherwise, David would take his afternoon off tomorrow to do some serious thinking about how to handle his next conversation with his boss.
Half an hour later, David locked up the shop with an uneasy conscience. Captain Mann had not shown up. He still had time to make the meeting if he hurried, but was his first impression to pray for a day before leaping into the thick of things the better choice? Sometimes a signpost would be easier than trying to figure out what God wanted.
“Explain something to me.”
The voice behind David made him jump. “Spelding. What can I do for you?”
Still dressed in a way that made David feel like he wore aged castoffs, Joe Spelding smoothed his lapel. “What exactly do you do for this operation?”
“For Captain Mann? I’m his first mate and office manager. Why?”
“You pay his bills? Oversee his financials?”
“What business is it of yours?” David folded his arms. Questions swirled, but he kept a tight rein on them, not wanting to give Spelding any leverage.
“How much authority do you have over the business?”
“If you don’t tell me what you need, then I can’t help you.”
“As a lawyer, I cannot divulge privileged information. However, I can say your boss has not been forthcoming with me regarding the financial situation of his company. Perhaps he does not know these figures?”
“You think I’m keeping him in the dark about the financial viability of the company?” David pushed back the worry that rose as he remembered the two different income numbers he’d found that morning.
“I am simply trying to give Mr. Mann the benefit of the doubt before my client enters negotiations on Tuesday.”
“That’s why you wanted our boat.”
“Smart man.” Spelding’s expression said he thought anything but. “Do yourself a favor. Be willing to come clean. It will be of benefit to everyone involved.”
David lifted his flat cap to run his fingers through his hair. What had Captain Mann gotten into, and did it have anything to do with the Conglomerate?
After explaining a few more details of his plan to Adaleigh, Detective O’Connor called for Samson and they left. Sitting alone on the porch, the reality of what he asked of her began to sink in. Being a stranger allowed Adaleigh to help in this particular way, but would that mean she would remain a stranger in this little town?
Staying a stranger went against the natural law of relationships. The more people tell others about themselves, the closer a relationship becomes. But supposing Amy Littleburg’s friends bared their souls to Adaleigh as a stranger, would they ever want to interact with her again? She would know their secrets, which would give her a strange power over them.
She wagged her head, trying to shake loose the warring thoughts. Frankly, why did any of this matter? As the stranger, what did she care if people liked her after she asked these questions? Sure, this was a way she could help out this family, a way to say thank you for opening their home to her, but then what? Did she really see herself having a future in Crow’s Nest? Did she want one, even if she could stay?
The warm summer air made the front porch homey and comfortable. She hadn’t felt so like herself since her swimming days. Her fellow teammates had been determined to break the boundary set for them as women. Yes, women needed to know how to swim, how to save lives on the water, but they would compete too. It created a camaraderie between them, and they accepted each other as they were. Since her first day, they’d seemed proud of Adaleigh’s bravery, her dogged determination, and adopted her right into their fold.
She sauntered down the front walk, aiming to wander the neighborhood while her thoughts meandered—she wouldn’t make the mistake of going to the boardwalk alone again. She couldn’t deny it felt good to be here in Crow’s Nest. It didn’t matter what she did or where she came from; she was the stranger, the newcomer. She didn’t need a past, a dollar sign, or the right set of skills to fit in. People like Mindy and Sean and Samantha told her about themselves. Mrs. Martins took her into her home. David, well, yeah, David. Even Detective O’Connor was letting her peek under that hard shell of his.
How did she find herself in such a place as this? Walking among these homes bathed in the light of the setting sun. Front porch swings, stone pathways, and freshly planted gardens. Faded siding and towering trees.
The people of Crow’s Nest were quite unlike the people she’d grown up around. They lived day-to-day, not thinking much past their little community or the work they had to do in order to put food on the table. It was a common, ordinary existence, but they didn’t see it that way. It was just the way life was, and they made the most of it. Something about that idea felt secure and safe.
“You have an unfamiliar face.” A male voice ripped that feeling right out of her.
Adaleigh spun to face the man. Before her stood the antithesis of the thoughts running through her head. Tall and likely in his late twenties or early thirties, considering he appeared of perfectly marriageable age, it was as if he had stepped from her past to remind her Crow’s Nest was not her home. Dressed in an expertly tailored white suit, hanging open to reveal a starched white shirt, blue tie, and polished wingtips, he cut the perfect specimen of male wealth. Words failed her, and her cheeks grew hotter by the minute.
“Please pardon my manners.” His smile dazzled like a finely cut diamond in the noonday sun. He held out his hand to her. “My name is Buck Wilson.”
Adaleigh’s jaw slackened, but she reined in all her Sirland power and managed to genteelly set her hand in his. “Adaleigh Sirland.”
“A pleasure, Miss Sirland.” He brought her knuckles just shy of his lips, then released her hand and stuffed his own in his pockets, looking the ever-casual man-about-town. “If I interpret your reaction correctly, you have heard of me, but I am at a disadvantage.”
As much as Adaleigh clung to her past identity to give her strength, the knowledge of what she had just let slip—to Buck Wilson, no less—threatened to unnerve her entirely. Her identity and her name were tied too closely together. She could not be one without the other, no matter what she had attempted the last few days. And now this man of all men knew her real name.
“I seem to have caught you unprepared.” He gave an understanding smile. “Come, let me walk you to a bench closer to the lakefront.”
Adaleigh wanted to say no, to run as far away as the wind could take her, but he slipped her hand around his arm and led her around the corner, east, toward the darkening lake. He said nothing as they walked, and she slowly regained her equilibrium.
“Here we are.” He unhooked her hand and steered her toward a bench along a walking path that followed the shoreline.
They must not be far from the boardwalk, but she couldn’t see it beyond the houses to the right. Mr. Wilson sat down beside her, neither too close nor too far.
“I took you by surprise. I do apologize.” A dash of worry flitted across his eyes in the waning light. “Are you feeling better now? There is more color to your cheeks.”
Sure, there was. They had to be flame-red with embarrassment!
He grinned. “Before I stick my foot in my mouth any farther, tell me how you came to be in a small town like Crow’s Nest.”
“I’d prefer not to.”
“Fine by me.” He relaxed into the bench, pulling his right ankle over his left knee and placing his left arm on the top of the bench behind Adaleigh. “Then why don’t you ask me something?”
“Like what?”
“Let’s see, a typical conversation could be about the weather. I, for one, am fond of such a beautiful evening.” He nodded his chin out toward the water. “The stars as they begin to appear. The boats lined up as they return to the harbor. Gulls cleaning up after the humans.”
At his description, Adaleigh’s shoulders released their tension. “I could get used to seeing this view every night,” she said.
“You did not grow up near a lake?”
“No. But I always loved visiting water. I guess that’s what drew me here.”
“And do you like it here?”
Mrs. Martins asked her that same question. Right here, right now, the answer seemed easy. “I do. I really do.”
A corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Does that mean you are thinking of staying around a while?”
“That seems a rather personal question.”
He shrugged. “Since speaking of where you’ve come from upsets you, I’ll ask where you are going.”
“Are you from here?”
He chuckled. “My roots are, but I’ve spent many years away. Coming back felt like coming home.”
“So this persona, did you come by it naturally, or did you build it?”
“There’s a question by someone who has spent time among cultured people. New money or old money? I’ll tell you, I came by mine honestly and worked my tail off for it, pardon the expression. I hope some of what I learned can benefit the hard-working people of this town.”
Adaleigh frowned, attempting to reconcile what David and Detective O’Connor had said about Buck Wilson and the Conglomerate with the details the man himself now shared.
“I see you have already heard the rumors.” He didn’t appear troubled. “I mean no disrespect to Michael O’Connor or the rest of the police force, but they’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Unease slithered up her spine. “Then why are they investigating you?”
“Because I’m standing up for the little guy? I haven’t a clue.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Buck pulled his arm from behind her so he could twist to face her straight on. “You’re a bold girl.”
“Excuse me?”
“No one from around here would dare talk to me like that.”
Hoity-toity scoundrel. “Perhaps it’s high time someone should.” Adaleigh folded her arms. “Did Frank Martins work for you?”
“I hire all sorts of people down on their luck for odd jobs. What’s that to you?”
The steel in his eye irritated her even more, so that she blurted out, “Did you hire him to kill Amy Littleburg?”
He blinked. “What are you talking about?”
Adaleigh stood, keeping her disapproving tone. “I was there, Mr. Wilson. I saw Frank Martins standing over Amy’s dead body. Did you have anything to do with that?”
“How could you even think I would?” He stood as well, but didn’t tower over her as she expected. In fact, he seemed shocked. Had she found a second phenomenal actor—like Sean—or were both of these men innocent?
Nevertheless, taking a page from her father’s practice, she wouldn’t give Buck any room to negotiate. “Because I don’t know you, but I do know that when a man is under investigation, he can do things to cover up what he doesn’t want found out.”
“Like why you’re hiding your past?”
Adaleigh stepped back as if the words slapped her.
“You can’t talk on both sides of this, Adaleigh.”
His use of her given name stunned her. She shook her head as if doing so could clear the conversation out of her mind. “It was a mistake to talk with you.”
Buck sighed as if he’d just lost a bet on the horses. “I’m sorry you feel that way. It’s rare to meet a sophisticated woman such as yourself in a town like Crow’s Nest.
“Oh, you do lay it on thick.” Just like another well-dressed gentleman new to Crow’s Nest. At least Buck Wilson had manners.
“I like your forthrightness. For that, I’ll return the favor and put out feelers.”
“Feelers?”
“To see if I can get you answers about Amy’s murder. Witnessing it must have been terribly trying, and having the real murderer behind bars will give you peace of mind.”
Adaleigh lowered her head. He’d spoken a bit too close to the truth.
“For the record, I did not order any murders, but I will find out if one of my men did so without my knowledge.”
“Or whether it was someone else entirely?”
“That I cannot help with as much, but I will do my best.”
Adaleigh stuck out her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Wilson.”
“Buck, please.” He sandwiched her fingers instead of shaking on it as she intended. “And the pleasure has been all mine.”
She watched Buck walk back the way they’d come, one hand in his pocket and whistling a tune she didn’t recognize. He left her conflicted, as if strung between two worlds. He represented her old world. The one that held pain and sorrow and fear. Yet she understood that world. The power, wealth, and drive. It might not be in her blood, but it had shaped her.
Money had never been a factor in her decisions before because her family never lacked it, but now, without it, it held her by a leash. Its lack kept her a stranger in a strange town, suspended between the compulsion to run for fear her sister would find her and the growing desire to set down roots in a new home. A home without pretense and façade.