The Seductive Impostor (20 page)

Mark might be a dork, but he was a really nice dork.

Rachel only hoped he hadn't been visiting Sub Rosa with his mother. Unless…unless he'd been going there to fetch her.

“Hey, maybe they
are
Mark's footprints in the tunnels,” she said. “And it's something as innocent as him chasing after Mary to bring her home. Maybe she's been going there since Thadd died because she just can't let him go.”

“There's still the problem of the missing items,” Willow reminded her. She suddenly perked up. “Maybe Mary's been taking them. Not to sell, but to possess. People do really weird things when they're grieving.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, stopping Willow from getting out of the car by grabbing her arm. “We check out Mark's feet, and if he's anywhere near a size twelve, we take our theory to Kee.”

“That's the first intelligent thing you've said today,” Willow said with a sassy smile.

Rachel gave her a haughty glare. “There're still the boat designs,” she warned. “We still need to find them.”

“Twenty minutes is all I'm giving you. And if you don't find them, it's over and done with.”

Rachel nodded and opened her door.

 

“Well?” Willow asked as they pulled away from the Lakeman Boatyard.

“I couldn't find anything. But the drawer where they should have been had fingerprints smeared in the dust. Someone was in there recently.”

Willow sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head on the headrest. “So we didn't gain a damn thing,” she said tiredly.

“Mark said his mom was here last week, and he sounded like that was a rare occurrence,” Rachel reminded her. “I'm wondering…the
Norway Night
burned the same day the article about Keenan Oakes came out in the
Island Gazette
saying that the Lakeman heir had been found.”

“So?”

“So what if the article somehow disconcerted Mary Alder? What if she knew about the
Norway Night
and the other two boats? She could have taken the blueprints. That might be why she visited the boatyard.”

“To what end?” Willow asked, rolling her head and looking at Rachel. “Do you really think the boat burning is tied to Keenan Oakes's arrival?”

“It's quite a coincidence if it isn't.”

Willow sat up. “If Mary did burn that boat, maybe she's just trying to protect Thadd's name, just as you're trying to protect Dad's. And Mark's feet are large, but he was wearing work boots, not sneakers,” Willow added with a sigh. “Which doesn't prove a damn thing, either.”

Rachel pondered the problem of Mary Alder, the
Norway Night,
and the missing designs. Nothing made sense. If the boat burning had been precipitated by the article in the
Island Gazette,
who had burned it?

“Why hasn't Kee just called the police and reported his missing stuff to them?” Willow asked.

“That's a good question,” Rachel said softly.

“Unless he thinks you really are involved,” Willow speculated.

Rachel remained mute.

Willow leaned against her headrest again. “How did he know that the emeralds were stolen in France seventeen years ago and that they're worth a million dollars?” Willow continued. “And the other stuff you put in the vault. How come he knew it was all stolen?”

Rachel started to say something, but smiled instead, pulling the SUV over to the side of the road, watching in her rearview mirror as the sheriff's car, lights flashing, pulled up behind them.

“What time's your date?” Rachel asked.

“It's set for seven.”

“Maybe he's canceling,” she said, nodding behind them.

Willow turned and looked out the back window and snorted. “From your lips to God's ears.”

“We need his truck, Willy,” she reminded her. “Tonight.”

Larry walked to Willow's side of their SUV, and Rachel pushed the button to lower Willow's window.

“Hi,” he said, leaning on the door.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Willow asked.

“I'm sorry, but I have to cancel,” Larry told her, shaking his head. “I'm stuck pulling a double shift. I'm sorry. Are you coming back next weekend?”

“Ah, no. I'm going to try and organize my new apartment. Larry, you have a pickup, don't you?” Willow asked.

Rachel watched as Larry's chest actually puffed up. “Yes, I do. It's a brand-new Chevy with an Isuzu turbo diesel, a five-speed Allison tranny, and leather interior.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Willow. “You want me to move you down to Augusta?”

Rachel looked out her own window so Larry wouldn't see her roll her eyes. Machismo was alive and well in Puffin Harbor, and it drove big trucks with five-speed transmissions. Heck, lobster boats were even bigger objects of male one-upmanship. A lot of the lobstermen had more money tied up in their boats than they did in their homes.

“Ah, thank you, Larry. I'd like that,” Willow said. “Are you off tomorrow?”

“Yup. As of seven in the morning.”

“Then maybe I should just bring your truck to our house tonight. Rachel and I and a couple of town boys can load it up this evening. Then tomorrow you can go home and have a little nap and then we can head to Augusta in the afternoon.”

Larry suddenly paled.

“I promise not to scratch it,” Willow whispered, laying her hand on his arm. “It's a beautiful truck. Green, isn't it?”

Larry nodded, still looking worried. “Forest green with aluminum mag wheels.”

Willow patted his arm, and Rachel would bet her kayak her sister was batting her eyelashes and making good old Larry's knees knock with her killer sweetheart smile. “You'll be tired after working a double shift, so it only makes sense that Rachel and I load the truck ourselves. That way you'll only have to unload it in Augusta.”

Yup, that sweetheart smile did them in every time. Larry reached into his pocket, took out his truck keys, and handed them to Willow, folding her fingers around them in her hand, his own large hand lingering possessively.

Though Rachel wasn't sure if it was Willow he was clinging to or his truck keys.

“I'm really sorry about our date tonight,” he said, still holding her hand. “Maybe I can make it up to you tomorrow night. We'll find a nice lounge in Augusta that has a band.”

“Sounds great. It's a plan, then,” Willow said, gently freeing herself. “Rachel can drop me off at your house now, and I'll drive your truck back to ours. Thanks, Larry. I'll see you tomorrow noon, then,” Willow said, tossing the keys in her purse.

Larry hesitated, darting a glance at Rachel, then looked back at Willow and smiled. “Yeah. Tomorrow,” he said with a nod, finally lifting his arm off the passenger-side door and walking back to his squad car.

Rachel watched Larry in the rearview mirror as he shut off the flashing lights and pulled around them onto the road. “You are going to fry in hell,” she said with a chuckle.

Willow smacked her in the arm. “Hey, it's not my fault men are easy. Besides, I like Larry. He's sweet. I am not just stringing him along.”

Rachel was about to respond when she spotted the boat through the sparse trees, less than half a mile from shore and obviously heading in.

“Aw, hell,” she muttered, digging in the glove box and pulling out the small binoculars. She leaned in front of Willow, focusing the binoculars on the boat. “Dammit, that's a schooner. Miss Mikaela the tyrant is not arriving tomorrow,” she said as she zeroed in on the little blond girl standing at the rail, waving both arms and shouting. “She's arriving today.”

She lowered the glasses and looked at Willow. “There go our plans for Puffy.”

Willow took the binoculars from Rachel and looked at the schooner, then turned and smiled and shook her head. “Naw. We'll just bring her along. She'll love it. It'll be women's night out on the big town of Puffin Harbor.”

“Five-year-olds cannot keep secrets. In two days everyone will know it's us.”

“I was five when I caught you kissing Mike Johnson at the Lobster Festival.”

“I threatened to cut your hair while you slept if you told,” Rachel reminded her, finally starting the truck and pulling onto the road, turning, and heading back toward Larry's house.

“Then that's what we'll use to threaten the tyrant,” Willow said, putting her sunglasses on and leaning back against the headrest with a tired sigh.

T
he Foster home hadn't been
this full since Marian and Frank Foster's funeral service. But while three years ago it had been neighbors and friends all speaking softly, grieving, and still somewhat in shock, tonight it was one wolf, seven men, and a little blond cherub, all speaking loudly and at once, happy to be reunited.

Well, except for Jonathan French—a.k.a. Ahab. He was just happy to be getting rid of his charge and seemed much more interested in the bowl of strawberries he was gobbling down than in the reunion.

They had appeared like an invading army half an hour ago—Kee holding Mikaela in his arms and smiling proudly, Duncan carrying her bags, Matthew carrying a huge stuffed animal that looked like a giraffe with wings, Luke carrying four bottles of wine, and Jason and Peter loaded down with at least ten quarts of strawberries.

Willow had taken one look at the strawberries, turned green, and run upstairs before Rachel could even introduce her to the apostles.

Rachel had been playing hostess ever since, hulling strawberries, setting out bowls and spoons, and pouring wine. She had refilled the sugar bowl three times already, until finally giving up and just plunking the sugar canister in the middle of the table.

Kee was sitting at the table, Mikaela in his lap, and the two of them were getting more strawberry juice on themselves than in their mouths.

“You tell your daddy what you done, young lady,” Ahab said, pointing his spoon at Mikaela. “And what I want him to do about it.”

Wiping her hands on her apron, Rachel inched closer in the suddenly silent room and watched as Mikaela looked up at Kee with the largest, brightest blue, most beguiling eyes Rachel had ever seen.

“I broke the compass,” she whispered, her long blond eyelashes blinking once…twice…her expression downright pitiful. She turned just enough to snuggle into Kee's chest, tucking her head under his chin as she faced the others at the table. “And Ahab wants you to beat me.”

“I did not say ‘beat,' ” Ahab declared, glaring at Mikaela, then looking at Kee. “I said ‘spank.' There's a mighty big difference. And if you'd take a firm hand to her naughty little bottom once in a while, we might come through the next fifteen years with our sanity intact,” he defended.

Not showing any reaction to either Mikaela's or Ahab's statements, Kee turned his daughter back around to face him, took hold of her chin, and lifted her face up to his. “What do you think I should do?” he asked.

“I think I've been punished enough, Daddy,” she said, her eyelashes batting again. “A whole week of missing you…and…and everyone,” she added, her voice quivering as she tried to look at the others at the table.

Kee wouldn't let her, holding her facing him. “How did the compass get broken?”

“The boom fell on it.”

“And what made the boom fall?”

Her large blue eyes finally started to show some worry. “It might have fallen when I untied the rope,” she whispered.

“You untied the rope even though you're not allowed to touch the rigging,” Kee said quietly.

Mikaela nodded. “I was trying to get to you faster, Daddy.”

Oh, she was good, Rachel decided. Miss Mikaela Oakes could give lessons to a courtesan. Rachel inched closer, noting the expressions on all the men's faces.

Ahab's eyes were glazed with resignation, apparently having witnessed this display of feminine wiles once too often. Duncan was frowning hard enough to damage his face, Luke was holding in a laugh, and Jason and Peter and Matthew were nodding agreement with Mikaela.

“Do you know what can happen to a boat without a compass?” Kee asked.

Mikaela slowly shook her chin back and forth in his fingers.

“It can get lost. If not for Ahab being such a good captain, you could be sitting in France right now instead of with us here in Maine.”

“I won't touch the rigging again, Daddy.”

“No, you won't,” Kee softly declared. “And you're going to buy Ahab a new compass.”

“I don't got any money.”

“Then you'll have to earn some. Whatever Ahab pays his man to polish the brass on the
Six-to-One Odds,
he'll pay you. And when you have enough money for the compass, you'll buy him one.”

Unbelievably, her eyes got even bigger. “But that's hard work,” she declared, pulling her chin free and crossing her arms over her chest. “I'm only a little girl.”

“If you're strong enough to untie rigging, you're strong enough to polish brass,” Kee said, cupping her face between his large hands and kissing her loudly on the forehead. He stood up and set her in his place on the chair, pushing the bowl of strawberries toward her. “Eat up. You can start tomorrow.”

Not at all happy with how things had turned out, Mikaela knelt on the chair and cuddled her bowl of strawberries to her chest, her shoulders hunched as she alternated between eating and shooting accusing glares at Ahab.

Ahab refilled his own bowl with strawberries, covered them with at least half a cup of sugar, and finished his feast with a satisfied smile on his face.

“Can I talk to you outside?” Kee asked, coming over to Rachel and placing a hand at her back, then guiding her out the screen door and off the porch and across the lawn toward the ocean.

“She's adorable, Kee,” Rachel said as soon as they reached the pebble beach in front of her house. “She's beautiful—and simply a treasure.”

“She's a hellion,” he said, fierce affection and pride deepening his voice. “It's a wonder we don't all have a drinking problem.” He smiled and shook his head. “The last five years have been the longest years of my life, and I swear I've aged at least ten.”

He reached up and ran his knuckles gently down over her cheek. “But they've been the best years of my life, and I wouldn't trade them for the world,” he softly declared, taking her in his arms, lifting her enough to bring her face up to his.

His mouth captured hers with heart-stopping possession.

Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips to give his strawberry-sweetened tongue complete access. His own arms held her so tightly against him that she could feel his heart thumping against her breasts.

One of his hands captured her braid, winding it around and around until he reached the nape of her neck and used it to cant her head and deepen the kiss.

Rachel's reaction was immediate, her blood simmering and her nerve endings coming alive, humming with desire. His heat permeated her clothes all the way to her skin, flushing her with salacious warmth. And his mouth—oh, his wonderful mouth—teased her passionately, sending erotic images through her mind of them together, naked, in bed, touching and loving and arousing each other senseless.

He lowered his free hand down her back, cupping her bottom and pulling her into him, and Rachel felt his own desire pushing against her. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips across her cheek to nibble her ear, causing her to shudder with need.

And then he straightened and set her away, his hands gripping her shoulders—which was a good thing, considering her legs were filled with jelly. “There,” he declared softly, taking a calming breath. “That's better.”

Better? Better than what, a root canal? Hell, she'd been better before he'd started boiling her blood.

“Now, about Mikaela,” he said, letting her go and crossing his arms over his chest. “Can she stay with you?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He shrugged. “I can put her back aboard the
Six-to-One Odds
and hope Ahab doesn't take her out to sea and throw her overboard,” he offered.

“Oh, come on,” Rachel said with a snort. “She can't be that bad. She's only five years old.”

“Going on sixty,” he clarified, rubbing a hand down over his face with a deep sigh. “She could use a bit of female company, I suspect. She's been surrounded by men her entire life.”

“But what about her mother? Doesn't she ever see her?”

His eyes hardened, and he shook his head. “No. Mikaela's been mine since she was ten minutes old.”

“Is her mother…is she dead?” Rachel asked in a whisper.

“No. So do we have a deal?”

Apparently the subject of Mikaela's mother was not open to discussion. “Could our deal start tomorrow instead? Willow and I have a little errand to do tonight.”

His brow lifted in question, and he nodded toward the green pickup parked in the yard. “Does this errand have anything to do with Larry Jenkins's truck?”

“How do you know it's Larry's truck?”

“I know a lot of things. I know that you went to the Lakeman Boatyard this afternoon, and that while Willow distracted Mark Alder, you went snooping through his files. What were you looking for, Rachel?”

Rachel crossed her own arms under her breasts. “You had me followed.”

He nodded. “I told you I'd be keeping an eye on you, for your own protection.”

“It wasn't supposed to start until after Mikaela arrived.”

He stepped forward and took hold of her shoulders. “It started the moment I realized you nearly fell off the cliff that first night,” he said, tightening his hands when she tried to pull free. “What are you and Willow doing tonight?”

“I had a life before you showed up here, you know,” she said, glaring at him. “Willow and I have had this thing planned for months.”

“What thing?”

“That's none of your business. Just keep Mikaela tonight, and she can come here tomorrow morning. And quit following me. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

He pulled her against his chest, wrapped his arms around her with a growl, and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “I can take care of you better,” he whispered, trailing his lips across her cheek. “You could have broken your neck or drowned.”

Rachel leaned into him and tucked her head under his chin, breathing in his wonderful smell with a sigh. “Can your daughter keep a secret?” she asked.

She felt him nod. “When she's motivated to,” he told her.

Rachel leaned back in his arms and looked up. “Willow and I have to sneak an eight-foot puffin into the town park tonight, and we could use a little manpower, I guess.”

“An eight-foot puffin?”

“We made a wooden statue of a puffin,” she told him, nodding. “As a gift for the town. But it has to be an anonymous gift.” She shrugged in his embrace and smiled. “For the past two years Willow and I have been leaving little surprises around town. Everyone's been getting into the mystery of where they're coming from, and who's doing it. And tonight Puffy is making his debut.”

His expression suddenly changed to one of understanding. “The statue in your basement,” he said with dawning awareness. “I saw it the day we picked up your clothes. You made that for the town? And the birdhouses and mailboxes on the workbench—you've been setting them out all over Puffin Harbor, haven't you? I've passed one or two mailboxes like them and thought they looked familiar. But why?”

“For fun,” Rachel told him. “To give everyone something to talk about.”

“But why?” he repeated.

“I believe it's called entertainment,” she told him with a laugh. “There's not a whole heck of a lot to do around here in the winter, so Willow and I decided to create a mystery for the townspeople to solve.”

His smile slashed through the darkening twilight. “And you borrowed a sheriff's truck for your clandestine operation,” he said in wonder, shaking his head. “And you want to take my daughter on this little adventure.”

“Only if she can keep our secret.”

Kee pulled her back against him, rocking her gently. “Maybe we'd better wait until she falls asleep, and leave Jason or Luke here with her. Duncan and I will go with you and be your muscle and lookout. Are you going to tell me what you were looking for at the Lakeman Boatyard?”

Rachel blinked at the sudden change of subject. “I was looking at Mark Alder's feet,” she said.

He leaned back and looked down at her. “His feet,” he repeated evenly.

“And to ask how his mother is doing, and to sell him Willow's shares in the boatyard.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “You're partners with Mark Alder now instead of with the Foster sisters. We both sold Mark our shares.”

“Why were you looking at his feet?” he asked.

“To see if they were the same size as the prints I found in the tunnels. I think the smaller prints might belong to Mary Alder, Mark's mother. And maybe the larger prints are Mark's, and he'd gone to Sub Rosa to get her.”

“Do you think Mary Alder's been taking the items?”

Rachel nodded. “Willow and I came to that conclusion this afternoon. Mary's been…well, she's been acting strange ever since Thadd died, and people do funny things when they're grieving.”