Deadly Secrets on Mackinac Island

by Cara Putman

  Deadly Secrets on Mackinac Island

  A Romantic Suspense Novel

  Cara Putman

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Discussion Questions

  © 2012 by Cara C. Putman

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  To my kids—praying you allow God to direct you to the future and the ones He has for you.

  * * *

  The greatest adventure is seeking Him and living for Him.

  Acknowledgments

  Mackinac Island is a wonderful place our family loves to visit.

  * * *

  Several years ago, I had an idea to write a romance mixed with mystery and suspense that would be set on the island. When we returned, my husband went to Fort Mackinac while I went to the police department to talk to the police chief. He spent time answering all of my questions about what would happen if someone was murdered on the island without offering to let me spend time in their cell, for which I will always be grateful.

  While writing the book, I also realized that I needed to understand how a gunshot wound would be handled on Mackinac Island. Dr. Jennifer Shockley very patiently answered my questions and did all she could to make sure I understood what would occur on the island and at a mainland hospital. Many thanks to these gracious people. Any mistakes are mine.

  Thank you to my agent who let me know there was an opportunity to write a book for Barbour, and Rebecca Germany, who read my proposal and gave me a chance to write this story.

  I was also blessed to have several friends read the book and help me. Initially, Colleen Coble, Robin Caroll, and Sabrina Butcher helped me brainstorm the idea and flesh out a plot. Then as I wrote, Sue Lyzenga read the book not once but three times, while Sabrina and Casey Herringshaw gave input on the manuscript. Lastly, thanks to my stellar editor, April Frazier, who helped me fix the details and make the plot work.

  I also want to thank my husband and kids who make Mackinac Island such a great place to escape. I love walking the island, exploring the trails, and riding bikes around the island with you. I love you!

  1

  Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

  The refrain beat a steady tempo through Alanna Stone’s mind as she dragged up the gangplank to the ferry where it rocked in the early morning light at the St. Ignace dock. She avoided gazing to her right in the direction of Mackinac Island. A place of beauty and peace to many, it symbolized all the harshness that could shimmer beneath the surface in a small town. She’d sworn never to return and had honored that vow for eleven years.

  Now? Now she abandoned her firmly held avoidance to help her parents. A wave rocked the boat, and she bobbled as she struggled to stay steady on more than her feet.

  A man in the green polo that bore the Arnold Transport Company logo steadied her with a smile. “You’ll find your sea legs in no time.”

  “Good thing, since the trip’s so short.”

  He laughed and nodded. “About fifteen minutes.”

  How could she tell him she wished it lasted fifteen months or years? That time would freeze, and she’d stay on this side of the lake?

  Seagulls cawed as they took to the air and swooped around the boat.

  Fifteen minutes. That’s all it took to start a new life.

  Diesel fumes rolled around her as the ferry’s engines roared into gear. With a grinding stop and jerk, the boat eased away from the dock and powered across the lake. Alanna sucked in a deep breath then coughed as fumes settled in her lungs. She clenched her jaw and pivoted until she faced east as the boat pushed through the water toward the sun. She needed to face her new reality and the hidden embarrassment. All represented by one tiny spot on the map.

  Mackinac Island.

  In the morning light, it looked like an emerald emerging from the lake with the Victorian cottages and Grand Hotel popping out like embellishments against the forest backdrop.

  The wind blew across Alanna’s face, misting it with a fine spray as it tangled her hair. The strands whipped around her neck, but she let the wind do its worst. Even then, it couldn’t reflect the chaos churning inside her. Tension tightened her body again. It had been her constant companion during the Menendez murder trial. The case had faded from the front page of the newspapers, and the reporters had finally abandoned their posts at her home and the office. Not the first time media had hounded her, but at least this time it involved a client rather than her brother. She’d thought she had shed the constant headache, but now it roared back to full strength in her temples.

  Going home did that to her.

  The catamaran shifted beneath her, the engines grinding.

  When Mother had called begging for help after Daddy’s stroke, Alanna had two choices: return to the island to keep her parents’ art shop open or let their lives’ work close.

  Maybe things had changed in the time she’d been away. Memories shortened. Ugly innuendos against her brother faded. If only the island could transform into an oasis for her. One she needed after the lengthy, brutal civil trial tied to a murder between feuding neighbors. She still felt the fatigue from a hard-fought victory, one that consumed almost as many of her nights as days.

  Her jaw clenched as the boat shifted further and the engines reversed direction. The shuttle chugged toward the island, slowing as it approached. The Arnold dock bustled with activity, but it was the kind propelled by men pushing caddies and horses stamping their hooves. Alanna collected her thoughts and softened her knees to rock with the ferry as it slid next to the dock.

  At first glance nothing had changed. Bicycles and horse-drawn taxis lined Huron Street at the end of the dock. Men wearing hotel logo-embellished polos wove between groups of tourists. Their intent gazes focused on destinations while the tourists ambled from fudge shops to knickknack stores.

  Alanna stumbled against the railing as the boat stopped. Her feet anchored in place. The other passengers disembarked. She needed to move. Tackle whatever waited for her.

  It’s just a few weeks, two months at most. She could do anything for that long. Get the store open again. Find someone to run the shop. Return to Grand Rapids before the pa
rtners missed her too much. That’s all she had to do. Grabbing her briefcase, Alanna hiked over the short gangplank. A taxi could take her to the cottage first. No, if she did that, she might not make an appearance at the shop today.

  She marched to the trolley lined with suitcases, handed over her claim ticket, and took the handle on hers. It was big, but she could maneuver it the few blocks to the store. She slipped into the flow of visitors pouring off the dock. With her suitcase rolling behind her, maybe no one would recognize her. Even with that hope, her sunglasses stayed firmly in place. If any of her opposing counsel spotted her hiding behind the glasses, they’d laugh. Her reputation as a tiger in the courtroom would lay shredded at her feet.

  She ducked behind a group and followed them up the street. She crashed off a hard surface—no. . .somebody—and fell.

  “Are you okay?” A rich baritone, eerily familiar, spoke the words.

  Alanna nodded from her position on the sidewalk but kept her chin tucked. She couldn’t let him get a good glimpse at her or her embarrassment. What if he remembered her? Eleven years might not be long enough to make her anonymous to the man who first claimed her heart.

  “There are too many people on the sidewalks not to pay attention. Can I help you up?” The man offered her a hand.

  Alanna peeked up then tilted her head back farther and saw the man she’d hoped most to avoid on the island. Her pulse picked up speed, a nod to their long-ago high school summer romance. Her gaze slipped to his mouth, and she jerked it back up as heat flashed up her neck at the thought of their twilight kisses on the dock by her parents’ home years earlier. In an instant, the memory morphed into the panicked thought Jonathan might recognize her. She longed for something—anything—more substantial than glasses to hide behind.

  His face had matured. The jaw squared, the nose bent like he’d broken it, the eyes green with a tinge of blue—matching the calm waters of Lake Huron. He still towered over her a good six inches or more. Her gaze traveled down his fit form, but he waved his hand in front of her face.

  “Help you up?” Mischief danced in his sea-green eyes as if he knew she’d stared at him from behind the glasses.

  Alanna hesitated a moment then accepted his hand, finding hers dwarfed in his. A shock raced up her arm. He pulled her to her feet, and she two-stepped backward. “Th-thank you.”

  “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” She had to get away before he recognized her. Of all the people to run into! She hadn’t prepared for the memories and what- ifs to assault her the moment she stepped on Mackinac Island. Her breath hitched, and she tightened her grip on the suitcase. “Thank you again.”

  Alanna skirted around him and hurried down Huron, gaze fixed in front of her. She knew he must think her ridiculous, but she couldn’t look back. If she did, she’d be lost in his gaze, and he’d recognize her in an instant. If Spencer hadn’t ended their year-long relationship, she’d have some defense to Jonathan. Instead, she felt vulnerable to the memories.

  If the first moments together, when he didn’t know her, were any indication, her long-buried attraction to him would chase her right off the island.

  Shadowy memories chased questions through Jonathan Covington’s mind as he watched the woman hurry down the street, the suitcase bumping over cracks in the sidewalk. Her willowy form reminded him of someone, only the short blond hair didn’t fit the image. He wondered what color her eyes were, but she’d hidden behind the large sunglasses. Her suitcase bobbled on one wheel, but she didn’t slow. If he didn’t know better, he’d say a wildcat or black bear chased her—only the island didn’t have any. No, the only big wildlife was the tourists. Almost as entertaining but not quite.

  Her thin form glided around a mother leading a toddler down the street. At least this time she was more attentive to others on the sidewalk. She hopped as the suitcase bounced against her ankles.

  He watched her a moment more, a distant memory tugging at him. Something about her seemed familiar, but he couldn’t tell as she hid behind those huge Jackie O sunglasses, useless on a cloudy morning.

  “You getting her number, Covington, or getting back to work?” Mr. Morris watched him with a hint of amusement defying his stiff posture as he braced his arms alongside his trim waist.

  Jonathan snapped his fingers. “Knew I forgot something.” He pulled his attention from the retreating woman and pasted a grin on his face before turning back to his client. The man expected him to work, not daydream. Besides, he had a relationship. . .of sorts. “Ready for the best pancakes in town?”

  Edward Morris snorted, his nostrils flaring. “There isn’t much competition.”

  “Part of the island’s charm.”

  “So Bonnie says.” Humor lightened Edward’s eyes and eased the lines on his tanned face. Didn’t look like the man missed many opportunities to walk a golf course. Jonathan filed the detail for easy access as he prepared an itinerary for the Morrises’ event. He needed to nail this event and get the referrals that had to come from them. Otherwise Jonathan stood dangerously close to losing his event-planning business and returning to another job working for someone else. “That woman has been intent on a celebration of a lifetime for our fortieth. Says, with the way couples divorce, we have to make a splash. I hope this works for her.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Jonathan opened the door to Mike’s and inhaled the rich aroma of roasting coffee. Everyone else could purchase overpriced brew at the chain down the block, but he enjoyed the hearty coffee served here. The small restaurant was a new and welcome addition to the morning offerings. “Right this way.”

  “Morning, gents.” Mike’s deep voice bellowed from behind the old-style counter. “What can I get you this morning?”

  Jonathan grabbed a stool at the counter. “Coffee and a stack of your blueberry pancakes.”

  “Black and Michigan maple?”

  “Of course.”

  “And for you?” Mike looked at Edward, who studied the simple menu as if it were the Wall Street Journal he usually tucked under his arm.

  “A plain stack and doctored coffee.”

  “Plain, really?” With all the options on the menu, Jonathan couldn’t imagine settling for plain. “Try the apple or cherry. Both are great.”

  “I’ll stick with good ole syrup.”

  Jonathan shook his head and winked at Mike, who’d watched the exchange with his trademark easy grin. “So what do you envision for this party?”

  “We’ll need somewhere for the kids and grandkids to stay. Then recommendations for friends who make the trip. And someplace that accommodates a moderately sized group. Maybe forty, though if Bonnie has her way, she’ll break the bank and invite everyone she’s ever greeted.”

  “Formal or relaxed?”

  “Casual. It’s easier for everyone that way.”

  “Hope you brought your appetite today, Jonathan. I don’t want to throw food away this time.” Mike plopped a plate of steaming pancakes in front of him. A dollop of butter melted in a pool on the top cake with three slices of thick bacon lining the plate’s edge.

  “I didn’t order the bacon.”

  “I know. Thought you’d need the extra sustenance.” He nodded his head toward Edward. “And here’s some link sausage for you. You look like that kind of guy.”

  “Really?” Edward hiked an eyebrow as he examined the tower of pancakes.

  “Most definitely. Someone who’s only here because his wife told him to come. What I don’t get is where’s the missus?”

  Jonathan winced. There’d been no way to warn Mike, but the sudden pallor in Edward’s face made him wish there had been.

  “She’ll be here later in the season.” Edward pushed the bite of pancakes he’d cut through the syrup but didn’t shovel it to his mouth.

  Mike shrugged, but Jonathan caught his gaze and shook his head, a small movement to keep Mike from inserting his foot deeper in his mouth. As he watched Edward choke down his emotions with a swig of coffee,
Jonathan thanked God he’d remained single. The pain that shadowed the man’s eyes when he thought about his wife and her battle with cancer left Jonathan determined to avoid that depth of pain.

  Love traveled a path that led directly and unavoidably to heartache. The only question was how long the journey took. He had to look no farther than his parents’ caustic marriage or his own string of tepid relationships.

  Guess that’s what happened when the gal you believed was the love of your life walked away without a glance. Showed how much he understood love. Even now he couldn’t convince his heart to engage with the lady he enjoyed. Something was wrong with him, or love wasn’t meant to be part of his life.

  The only way to evade the issue was to bypass love.

  And as the strong, gruff man swiped under his eyes and cleared his throat, Jonathan determined to maintain his present course and dodge that fate.

  2

  A passing glance at her parents’ art studio left the impression its owners had abandoned it without notice. It languished between a store filled with knickknacks and a photography studio. Across the street sat a bike shop with an attached Internet cafe. Alanna shook her head as two teens leaned close to monitors. . . . The Internet invaded even this quiet spot.