“I’m nearly finished with my investigation.” Constable Smythe rose from his chair. “The evidence points to you. I suggest you find yourself an attorney.”
Chapter 13
McNair wound around the staircase to the bottom of the lighthouse, his mind heavy with Constable Smythe’s declaration. He didn’t care a whit about his own reputation, but the thought of Mrs. Creed being slandered because of her good deed…and the false accusations against Lynette….
What little he knew of the young woman told him of her perseverance. He also realized she’d do everything within her power to usher in her innocence. That’s why she sat in her typical spot along the shore with a lantern beside her.
Light—they all needed a way to see through to the truth. His fears told him she was planning something dangerous. If this George fellow had killed her family, he’d not hesitate in ending her life, too. She’d be defenseless against a man who knew how to murder and get away with the crime.
The thought sickened him.
She turned to see him and shook her head. “McNair, I need time alone. I appreciate your friendship and advice, but this is my battle,” she said. “Whaley must be sleeping, so we don’t have a chaperone.”
Even in her dire situation, she found humor. “Lynette, we must talk. You need an attorney.” McNair heard the tenderness in his own words. Had he allowed himself to feel love? “I know what you’re planning, and it won’t work.”
“So you can read my mind? Uncle Jonathan’s wife would have a fine time with that confession. And I don’t have the money to pay for legal representation.”
He seated himself beside her. “I would consider it an honor to help you.”
She stiffened. “No, and don’t ask me again.”
He’d secure her an attorney on his own. “You can’t look for George on the mainland. He’s the enemy, as well as the mayor’s wife. He destroys the body while she strikes at the heart.”
“Nicely said, McNair. But pretty words won’t clear my name and bring justice to my family.”
“That’s why you need my help.”
She inhaled deeply. “I must do this alone. He won’t show his face to me on the island, but we know he comes here. It’s the why that is bewildering.”
He wanted to touch her, hold her, but his past wouldn’t allow it. “Listen to me for a moment.”
She shook her head. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“Since my words won’t dissuade you, I’ll speak anyway. If you go to the mainland looking for a ghost, those who are against you will declare you insane…and guilty of murder.”
“I have to find George.”
“I understand. Let me be the one to search for him.”
She tossed her attention his way. “Your name has been tainted, and those who could be your friends scorn you. Aren’t you involved enough?”
He’d been involved since he’d set eyes on her. “No one will suspect me. I could seek out those who like to talk. Sift their words for the truth.” When she didn’t reject his logic, he continued. “I’ll let Mayor Adams know what I’m doing. That will ease his mind. Then I’ll talk to Constable Smythe and whoever else I can.”
“How would you go about it?”
“I’ll state my discontent with the situation. Reveal my desire to have the matter rectified, which is true. I won’t lie, but I certainly won’t give them my real reason for conducting the investigation.”
She slowly nodded. “Are you thinking George will expose himself?”
“Yes. Maybe we can find out why he shows up here at night. If he wished you ill harm, I think he’d have acted by now. My one concern is him approaching you and Mrs. Creed in my absence.”
“I agree.” Lynette shook her head. “He had plenty of opportunity to do me harm before you arrived.”
“What about the boat? Will you and Mrs. Creed be all right for a few days? I’ll ask Mayor Adams to check on you.”
“We’ll be fine. There used to be two boats…before the accident.”
“I’ll take care of that problem when I’m on the island.”
“Would you mind bringing water when you return?”
“Done. And if I’m successful, we’ll have a celebration.”
“It’s hard to imagine George’s arrest.” She stared out to sea. “McNair, what does he want? I thought I understood what drove him to murder, but his actions of late make little sense.”
“He’s a clever man. To have disappeared and yet taunt you with his ghost-like appearances means he’s confident.” Not until this moment had McNair been so certain of George’s ruse. His very soul wanted to prove Lynette right. “I want you to have peace about what happened to your family. And answers as to why he killed them.”
“Thank you. You’re a good friend, perhaps my best since Amanda died.”
He wanted to be more if it were possible.
“What about your duties here?” she said.
He smiled. “You can manage the lighthouse. Your abilities are extraordinary. If I were lost at sea and knew you were in the tower, I’d feel safe.”
Her typical sigh touched his ears, the sigh that said her heart was burdened.
“What harm can I do on the mainland?” he said.
“I fear you could be killed.” She nibbled at her lip. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Oh, the words he wanted to hear but to which he couldn’t respond. “I’ll be careful.” Dying for such a woman would be an honor, as though justifying what he could not change.
Lynette leaned against the cottage door and watched the sun rise, its rays sparkling across the water. Hope. And she desperately needed a glimpse of something to believe in.
McNair. Who would have ever thought God would send such an unlikely man to help her? She’d tucked a note beneath the oars of the boat, a quote from Plato, one of Papa’s favorites—“Courage is knowing what not to fear.”
“My dear, did you not sleep last night?” Mrs. Creed’s sweet voice broke her hours of introspection.
“I will tonight. Much to think about.”
“How much did you give to God?”
Lynette pondered the question. “Some. I prayed for direction.”
“Can’t expect direction if you don’t give Him the problem.”
Lynette laughed. “One of the things I love about you is your wisdom.”
“How often am I right?”
Lynette cringed. “The question is when are you wrong.”
Mrs. Creed pointed to McNair rowing the boat across the harbor. “I see Mr. Hattchery has business on the mainland.”
“Indeed he does. He’ll be gone a few days.”
The older woman coughed, a ragged sound that shook her body.
Chapter 14
McNair bit his tongue to keep from losing his temper with Wilda Adams.
“It’s about time someone saw that Lynette Brittmore needs to be behind bars,” the woman said.
“I want to learn what happened to her family.” McNair chose his words carefully, not wanting to lie and not willing to condemn Lynette. “Something is not right on the island. That’s why I’m here.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Have you seen the apparition?”
McNair hesitated—purposely. “I have seen and heard things that demand an explanation.” He toyed with the brim of his hat. “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate the names of those who can tell me more about Miss Brittmore, her family, and her brother-in-law.”
“Be glad you’re still alive, young man.”
Mayor Adams pounded his fist onto the kitchen table. “Wilda, must you always condemn and pass judgment?”
Mrs. Adams huffed from the room. The mayor said nothing, but the lines deepened around his eyes. That’s when McNair departed…with a prayer for Mayor Adams and Wilda.
McNair wished his friend had an easier home life. He strode toward the parsonage with the realization of how long it had been since he’d earnestly sought God’s help. Too much sadness when his ne
phew died, catapulting his worship into a meaningless habit. McNair had kept the rules of church and isolated God from his heart.
How could the death of good people ever be a part of God’s plan? He longed to have the answer, but he longed more to feel the presence of God in his life.
Lord, forgive my shutting You out. From this moment forward, You hold the light that shows me the way.
He paused and stared out at the island. With God’s help, he’d find justice for Lynette.
“Mr. Hattchery. May I have a word with you?”
McNair swung to face the mayor. The man was pale, obviously beaten by the fate of his circumstances.
“I have information,” Mayor Adams said. “Both good and unfortunate.” He gestured forward. “Let’s walk so my wife will not question me later.”
McNair obliged the man. After all, he didn’t have to live with the woman. “We could venture on toward the parsonage.”
The mayor nodded. “First of all, I apologize for my wife’s actions. She wasn’t always this cruel.”
“You don’t have to tell me this.”
“But I do. You’ve heard me say very little when she’s insulted Lynette and you. I’m sure you’ve questioned who’s the head of my household.”
“I have pondered the matter.”
“And rightfully so. You see, we are childless—five infants who lived only a few hours after birth. Each time my Wilda’s dreams for family were destroyed. Each time it was more difficult to bury our child.”
They walked on past a general store and a bakery.
“The result is my wife has grown bitter…blames herself but takes it out on others. In the past, it was me. Before the deaths of the Brittmores, Wilda adored Amanda and Lynette, and they referred to us as aunt and uncle. I thought she’d found a substitute until George poisoned her mind about Lynette. Then when the Brittmores and George disappeared, she became increasingly difficult.” A sob escaped Mayor Adams. “I have almost given up. Lynette is dear to me, and to have my wife turn her back on the girl when she needs comfort is most disturbing.”
Now McNair understood. “I’m so sorry.”
“Wilda was the most beautiful woman in the city, her heart and her features. But instead of allowing God to heal her sorrow, she’s chosen to make others miserable.”
McNair realized he could do the same if not for his faith in God. “If I can do anything to help, please call upon me. At the very least, I can pray and listen.”
“Thank you, Mr.—”
“McNair. We are friends.”
“And my given name is Jonathan.” The mayor pulled a handkerchief from inside his jacket and dabbed beneath his eyes. By then they were at the parsonage beside the church. “I have information about George and a word of caution. My wife has spoken with him.”
McNair startled. “You’re certain?”
“Most assuredly. I followed Wilda yesterday evening after she thought I was asleep. She met the scoundrel at the pier.” Jonathan appeared to study the cross mounted on the church’s steeple. “I wanted to believe my wife would never be unfaithful.” Pain drew the man’s features into a mass of devastation. “But her interest in George was confirmed.” Jonathan held up his hand to silence McNair. “I’ll confront her when this is over. George is using her to build a case against Lynette, but my poor wife is too infatuated to see what he’s doing.”
“They discussed Lynette?”
“He told Wilda that he’d been meeting with Lynette to persuade her into a confession. Supposedly Lynette wants to run away with George, but he wants his wife’s murder settled.”
“Then why doesn’t he go to Constable Smythe?”
“My wife stated the same. But he claims Lynette will kill him. Already tried.” Jonathan shook his head. “How could my wife believe such absurdity, especially from a younger man? McNair, I’ve loved her for years, but devotion obviously isn’t enough.”
“Do you have any idea how I can find George?” McNair said.
“That’s why I’m here. He and Wilda plan to meet at the pier tomorrow evening at ten-thirty. She’s supposed to tell Constable Smythe that Lynette is influencing you about her innocence.” Jonathan blew out his disgust. “If George refuses to run away with Lynette, then she’ll turn her affections to you.”
McNair moaned. “I have to find George and get to the bottom of this.”
“Even if you present him alive to Constable Smythe, will he believe your story or the one Wilda has spread over town?”
McNair would do anything to help Lynette escape the corruption, but everywhere he turned, a wall of lies stopped him.
“I see you care for her,” Jonathan said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
McNair glanced about as though someone might have overheard. “She’s a courageous young woman.”
“Always has been. I have three reasons for proving George guilty of murder,” Jonathan said. “He’s been successful in destroying the lives of beloved friends, turning my wife against me, and conspiring to bring false charges against Lynette.”
“We’ll work together. With God on our side, evil will not prevail,” McNair said. “George thinks he’s committed the perfect murder, and if we can’t trap him in his lies, then Lynette will pay with her life.”
Chapter 15
Lynette urged Mrs. Creed to drink a little tea that contained honey for her cough and feverfew to chase away the chills. Chicken broth simmered over the fire with basil. The dear woman had been too ill to read her Bible today, so Lynette chose Psalms to encourage her.
“You need to rest before you’re up all night tending to the lighthouse,” Mrs. Creed whispered, indicating her weakness and possibly a sore throat.
“I’m fine. You’re my concern.” Tonight would be long, and she’d check on Mrs. Creed at every given opportunity.
When would Uncle Jonathan check on them or McNair return? Mrs. Creed needed more care than Lynette could provide. The woman’s chest rattled like a baby’s toy. She’d suffered through the same chest ailment a year ago and had barely survived.
Mrs. Creed’s age….She held the title of the oldest woman in the community at eighty-four-years old. Was it selfish to want her to heal when she could walk the streets of heaven with no pain or sorrow?
A parchment-thin hand rested on Lynette’s arm. “I need to say a few things in case the good Lord calls me home.”
Tears brimmed in Lynette’s eyes. “Please. Don’t speak of it.”
A smile danced on the older woman’s lips. “But it would be grand to see all who’ve gone before me.” She took a deep breath. “McNair…no man would go to this length to prove a woman’s innocence unless love ruled his heart.”
Lynette wanted to believe so, but the thought seemed incredible. “He hasn’t said anything to indicate so.”
“Yes he has. You haven’t listened to his heart.” She closed her eyes as though garnering strength. “I found something in your parents’ bedroom that belongs to you.”
Lynette hadn’t gone through their belongings because it had been too painful. “What did you find?”
“Money, my child. Enough to take care of you for a long time. I found it by accident when making room for my clothes. It was wrapped in a baby’s blanket in a drawer. I assumed you knew it was there. Yet when we questioned why George would dispose of your family, you never mentioned it.”
Lynette had forgotten until now….“Papa said his girls need not marry so someone would take care of them. I thought he meant we shouldn’t marry the first man who asked. But he must have meant he’d provided for us. This explains so much.”
“I should have told you when I made the discovery. Truthfully, I felt uncomfortable, as though I’d been snooping.”
“I’d never think badly of you.” Lynette walked to the window overlooking the harbor. “Amanda may have told George about the money but not where it is.” She whirled to face Mrs. Creed. “That’s what he’s after.” Her mind raced. “He wanted me to stay here tha
t day, to cook for everyone.” She’d not mention what else George wanted from her. “He must think I know where the money is hidden. That’s why he hasn’t killed me.”
“By making your family’s deaths look like you were the one responsible, he could force you to give it to him.”
And pressure her to be with him. “Then why hasn’t he? Why didn’t he search for it the Sunday we went to church?”
Mrs. Creed raised a finger. “I think he did. When we returned, my things were in disarray. I should have told you or Mr. Hattchery, but we had so much on our minds.”
“If I’m arrested, you’d no longer be needed here. And George would have access to the house.” She shook her head. “Then McNair would be in danger.”
“We must believe God will fight for us.”
Lynette hugged her. “Thank you. I hope Uncle Jonathan or McNair return soon. You need a doctor’s care, and we need protection from George.”
“Is the rifle loaded?”
“Yes, and I know how to use it.”
“Wouldn’t you like to learn what happened to the Brittmores?” McNair said to Constable Smythe.
The man scowled. “That’s my job, but what you’re proposing is preposterous. Upstanding citizens have testified to Miss Brittmore’s motive to eliminate her family.”
McNair assumed convincing Constable Smythe would be difficult, but he came armed with his best resolve. “Mayor Adams could come with us.”
Constable Smythe stepped back as though slapped. “Are you saying the mayor has proof of his wife’s infidelity?”
“He’s the one who told me.” McNair leaned in closer. “Sir, we all want the same thing—this mystery solved.”
Constable Smythe rubbed the back of his neck. “All right. Meet me here at ten-fifteen. But leave Mayor Adams out of it. If indeed your reporting is accurate, the mayor doesn’t need to view his wife’s behavior.”
At the arranged meeting time, McNair arrived at the constable’s office. Jonathan had insisted upon accompanying them. Perhaps he hoped his wife had been a victim and not part of a horrible crime. The three men silently made their way to the pier. The smell of fish wafted through the air while a faint breeze cooled the evening. McNair could only pray George would reveal a portion of the truth, enough to convince Constable Smythe to doubt the gossip.
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