by Carol McPhee
Why would he lie about this if these were friends? He had turned it off because she had entered the wheelhouse. What else has he lied about? Lori pressed her cheek to the doorframe to catch the stranger's reply.
"I see. We listened to the marine weather report and could see how high the waves were from the other side of the island. Man, it must have been rough for you guys out there."
Lori's curiosity piqued. The enthusiastic articulation of the voice struck a chord. She thought she recognized the energetic tone of the speaker. Surely she was wrong.
She heard George say, “The trip here was more than we bargained for.” Lori wished George would be quiet so the caller would speak again. And just what did George mean by that crack anyway? Was he referring to her?
The second stranger entered the conversation. “You ran into trouble on the trip out?"
Lori heaved a disgusted sigh, rubbed her neck, then hugged the doorframe for better balance.
"Nothing we couldn't handle,” Rand interjected. “Why were you trying to contact us again?"
The familiar, exuberant voice spoke this time. “We were notified that the freighter is expected in the area early tomorrow morning. Once the storm pushed out, it started moving north again."
The man's excited voice pierced her ears with such intensity, she wanted to jump out and yell, “I know who you are, you damned Mountie!” She couldn't believe Constable Hennigar was here. She wanted to run and hide and never have to look at his face again. On the other hand, she wanted to rush up and shove him overboard as well.
What's going on here? Is Rand playing both ends against the middle—crooks on one side of him, cops on the other? Lori gulped, trying to quell the uneasiness in her stomach, and the beginning throb at her temples. Knowing she had to stay calm to figure this out tested her fortitude.
She listened hard when Rand spoke. “I was hoping we'd have a couple more days before the ship reached—"
"The freighter's approach doesn't give us much time to find out how many of Warner's men are on it,” George cut in.
"I'd thought of a way to find out, but it was too risky.” Lori couldn't mistake the underlying authority in Rand's tone.
"I've been in touch with headquarters, sir,” Constable Hennigar stated. “The Force will round up the others in the gang after Warner leaves Halifax today."
Lori's throat tightened. What had she stumbled into? Her thoughts zipped to Sergeant McCormick. Her memory stretched to every nuance of his speech. His voice had sounded muffled, as if he were in a hollow room, yet the intonation was familiar. If that constable was here, these men must all be Mounties, including Rand and George. It sounded like Rand was the one in charge. A shudder sped through her entire body. Neither the police nor the drug smugglers boded well for her peace of mind. Lori peeked out and saw George and Rand were moving too close for comfort. She debated whether to go below or chance listening for more.
George hauled Rand near the doorway and whispered, “It's getting dicey, Rand. Those guys back at the lodge mean business. They'll tear you apart if Warner catches on to you. There's no way to find out how many are on the freighter."
"I had one way—Lori,” Rand mumbled in reply. “But this constable is the officer who interviewed her about the accident. She won't be cooperative, and besides, it would be too dangerous for her to dig up the information, impulsive as she is.” Rand raised his voice to the officers. “Thanks for keeping us informed ... Constable Hennigar? I want to have a private word with you."
"Certainly, sir."
"Let's go to the wheelhouse. George, take Constable Hennigar's partner below and see if you can rustle up fresh coffee and send some up. I had made a pot, but it's probably hit the floor by now. And check on our passenger will you?"
Lori limped as fast as possible down the steps to the galley, her thoughts tumbling in chaos. It was easy enough to look busy cleaning up the mess when the two men came down. She waited for George to introduce the tall, blonde stranger, but he didn't bother. George had to be playing it safe, leaving any disclosure for Rand.
"Hello.” She welcomed him in a soft voice, not giving away her angst.
"Why, hello, miss.” The youthful officer beamed a shy grin. “I didn't realize anyone else was on the yacht.” He glanced around at the disarray. “You had a tough go of it, getting here."
"Sure did. Have a seat. The rough water threw things helter-skelter.” She tried to appear unruffled, but her insides were scrambled just like her thoughts. It was best to err on the side of caution and ignorance, though.
George hurried to make more coffee while she mopped up.
"I can see you got tossed about down here, Miss Wheeler,” George said. “You didn't get hurt did you?” He seemed genuinely concerned.
"I was only shaken like a rag doll in a dog's mouth. No thanks to the two of you, I'm still in one piece.” The men's gaping mouths brought regret immediately. Lori hastened to downplay her bitter remark. “But if it weren't for the seamanship skills you and Rand have, we'd be at the bottom of the Atlantic."
She wasn't going as far as making an apology. She was still here against her will, uninformed and helpless.
"Aren't the others coming down?” Lori asked as she glanced at the visitor now taking in her about-face with obvious interest.
"The Sergeant wanted to talk about something privately with my partner."
Lori wondered Rand had associated him as the constable who had interrogated her. She'd love to be a fly on Rand's shoulder and hear Constable Hennigar's explanation if Rand asked him why he had prejudged her from day one of the accident.
The accident! Lori held her groan deep in her throat. Oh, Penny, how could I forget you died a year ago today? She'd been so involved with Rand that she hadn't thought of her sister in the last twenty-four hours. Had she started to heal from Penny's death with Rand's help? With knees too weak to hold her, she slumped onto the bench. She wanted to weep, but she couldn't—not in front of these men.
George poured the coffee into five mugs and set three on a tray. “I want you to take these mugs topside to Rand. You look like you could stand some fresh air."
"I'd rather not.” Her irritation and embarrassment held her back from telling George in front of the officer that Rand had ordered her to stay out of sight.
"Don't argue, Miss Wheeler, just take them."
* * * *
Rand looked over his shoulder as he and Constable Hennigar walked to the wheelhouse. How long have you been in the RCMP, Constable?
"A little over a year, sir."
"I see.” Rand closed the door behind them. He stepped to the wheel, braced his elbow against it, and faced the younger police officer. Guarding his words, Rand calmly asked, “After you graduated, did you find life as a cop harder to deal with than you'd thought it would be?"
"Yes, sir. It took me time to adjust.” The constable gazed across the harbor. “The training didn't entirely prepare me for the emotions involved."
Rand prodded further. “Did you find dealing with accidents the most difficult of all? I know I did when I was a rookie, and I still find it that way."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you remember an accident about a year ago on the South Shore road, where a teenager allegedly ran a red light and rammed a car with two young women in it—one of whom died at the scene? It got a lot of media coverage at the trial because the victim's sister defied the judge when he let the driver off."
"Yes, sir. I'll never forget it. That was the first bad accident I'd attended on my own. I was the only cop on the scene for a few minutes. Why do you mention it?"
"I was in the courtroom the day the verdict came down."
The constable's eyes lit up. “Then you heard my testimony?"
"No. I slipped in afterward. But I heard the summations and the judge's dismissal."
"Then you saw how the victim's sister reacted."
"Yeah. She sure made it clear what she thought of the justice system.” Rand grinned, rem
embering the uproar Lori had caused. “She seems to have a low opinion of the RCMP. Do you know why?"
"Yes, sir. I figured it out later."
"Could you explain it to me?"
"Well, sir, I wanted to be a fine example of what a good police officer should be when I arrived at the scene. But there was a lot of blood in the car with the two women, and one of them was moaning. The girl in the other car was hysterical, shrieking her lungs out. I was really shaken up.” He turned and looked back at the water, then after a few seconds switched again to stare at Rand's face. His coloring paled. “I handled the matter as best I could, but..."
"But?"
"Later, I was ashamed of my initial jitters. I decided to tackle the investigation aggressively. I think I was a bit too pushy as far as Miss Wheeler was concerned. I tried to shake her account of the other car being at fault, but I couldn't. She never budged from her story."
The constable turned to watch the swell of waves rolling toward the beach. Rand tapped his foot on the floor, waiting for further explanation. “And?"
"The only witness was that teenager. I never believed his claim that he'd seen what happened. There was no other proof that the guy had run the red light. It was Miss Wheeler's word against those of the other driver and his passenger. With nothing to verify her story, there was hardly a case to stand up in court."
"Could we say you were extraordinarily harsh with Miss Wheeler?"
"Inexperienced as I was, yes, that's possible. I might have been too blunt, but I'll tell you, I admired her for sticking to her guns. There was something else as well."
The constable squared off with Rand. The young man's hands nervously poked through his slicker into his bomber jacket pockets. Rand kept a tight rein on the situation by maintaining his cool.
"The young lady had a long way to go to recuperate from her severe injuries.” The constable's eyes narrowed as he stared straight into Rand's eyes. “I sympathized with her situation and found questioning a good excuse for visiting her. You see ... I got too emotionally involved. I wanted to get to know her better. Once I realized I was going beyond what was ethical, and she was getting more upset each time I appeared, I backed off. I'd let my feelings screw my common sense."
Rand couldn't mask his groan. It was becoming all too clear what had happened. “I think she misconstrued your intentions and thought you were badgering her ... Which you were."
"Really? I didn't look at it that way at the time. In court, I could only testify to the facts. The judgment ran contrary to her opinion. I guess we learn through experience, eh, Sergeant? If I could undo the impression I made, I would."
"You just might get the chance, constable."
The door burst open. Lori filled the doorway in a furious, wide-leg stance. The tray teetered in her hands. The constable's mouth dropped open. Rand grabbed the tray, set it down on the ledge, and looked up to see a tigress's blazing eyes. He pulled Lori inside and slammed the door.
The constable found his voice. “Miss Wheeler! What are you doing on board?"
"I might ask you the same thing, Constable Hennigar.” Lori's hands planted firmly on her hips.
The officer glanced at Rand. Recognizing he was not going to interfere, the constable straightened his shoulders to face her anger. “We were talking about your court case, Miss Wheeler. It looks like I have some explaining to do. I'd like to apologize for any bad notions I gave you about the RCMP."
"Save your breath."
His quick glance at Rand's grim mouth reconfirmed there would be no help from that source. “I carried out what I was trained to do, ma'am. Justice has to be doled out based on facts. The reality was there were no solid witnesses. Nothing the police did could change that. We searched the neighborhood and broadcast in the media for anyone who might have seen something to contact us. No one came forward."
He gentled his approach. “I'm really sorry you didn't get the ruling you wanted. I should have been more sensitive and less dogmatic. If it's any consolation, I'm working at being more considerate in my investigations now."
Rand watched Lori study the officer's eyes. Her lips pursed with indecision as she tried to reconcile his apology with the hurt and humiliation he'd caused her. The young man could be commended for learning from his mistakes, but it was her well being that concerned Rand. She had to appreciate the Mountie was one of those unique individuals who tackled life's challenges with enthusiastic compulsion. It was doubtful that trait would change no matter how experienced he became. Lori was given to rash action herself, and Rand thought he'd like to spend time getting her over it if he could.
"All right,” Lori said, nodding. “I guess you've made your point. I accept your apology.” The Mountie beamed his thanks. Her smile quickly faded when she looked at Rand. “I think you have some explaining to do yourself, Rand. Or is it Sergeant McCormick?"
After he looked at their expressions as they faced off, the constable grabbed his coffee and left. Rand broke the smoldering silence that followed the closing of the door. “You've seen through my little charade?"
"Completely,” Lori answered through clenched teeth. “The blinders are off. I don't know why I didn't catch on before. Why did you let me think you were involved in dealing drugs?"
He wondered where he should start. He had a lot to atone for. “Lori—"
She shook her head in denial of any excuses he might give. The shame of making love with an imposter was hard to bear. She liked him better when she thought he was a criminal. His honesty now stunk. “Did you have to go to the extent you did? You have far less compassion than the constable has. He had inexperience as an excuse, but I'd say it was immaturity, too. What's your excuse? You and George are both experienced and if not mature by now, you never will be. Tell me, Rand, is the way you've treated me how you get your kicks?"
Rand grabbed her shoulders, then dropped his hands when she jerked as though she couldn't stand for him to touch her. He stood back, his hands safely stowed in his pockets. “Lori, I want you to see that the RCMP is not your enemy. Unless you understand the Constable's position, I have no way to convince you."
She reached for one of the mugs of coffee, then set it aside without tasting it. He placed both hands on her forearms, waiting for her to look him in the eye. At last she looked up.
"My priority has always been my job, Lori, but I've never used sex as a way to get information. When I made love to you, I wanted to. There was no other reason."
"And the scheming and masquerading as Sergeant McCormick?"
"That was different and meant partly for your protection. I needed and wanted to keep track of you. Warner let on he was interested in you, but it was only for his own benefit. He thought he could get information about any number of things with your access to the Justice Department's files, and he could get information about me."
"In other words, you think it's too far-fetched that he could be interested in me, personally?"
"I didn't say that.” He threw his hands in the air. “Take a look at the bitterness in your heart. I knew you'd be too headstrong to listen to reason.” She had backed him into a corner. Although his temper brought out a strong urge to strangle her, his intelligence decreed his common sense should rule. “I wanted to change your opinion of the RCMP, but I also wanted to figure out the attraction I've felt for you ever since I first saw you.
"I'll be honest. I considered using you to find out from Warner how many of his gang are on the freighter, but I got worried about your safety. Since I'm going to this extent to tell you the truth, I have to face a humbling fact. You were a means to an end—a way of getting close to Warner. I had another reason, but you won't want to hear it. I—"
Disgusted with his flimsy excuse, Rand twisted on his heel and looked out at the Atlantic. “Go back to the city. Get on with your life."
He grabbed his coffee, took a gulp, and walked out, leaving her to ponder whatever the hell he had started to say.
* * * *
Lori sti
lled at his exit. A sudden gust of wind from the open door broke her trance. She looked to the shoreline beyond it. If the police force disgusted her, it followed that he should, too.
What she was feeling now couldn't be interpreted as disgust—it was a sense of being lost with no chance of ever being found. She sipped at the last dregs of her coffee, disregarding the bitter taste. The strain of his exasperation hung in the air; the memory of the previous night's intimacy rooted firmly in her mind. Maybe she'd drawn the wrong conclusions deliberately, wanting to condemn someone or something else for her misery besides herself. Maybe...
She'd not even thought of the anniversary when she awakened. Had she moved on? “Penny, I'm so sorry.” The words tumbled in an uncontrollable flow. “I've made the RCMP the scapegoat.” She clamped her mouth shut, letting her thoughts continue her agony. You wouldn't be pleased. Maybe there's something I can do to rectify my mistake. Then I truly can get on with my life.
Lori headed for the galley. When she stepped on the stairs, the male voices came to a halt. She ignored the questioning glances and turned to George. “When will we be going back to the mainland?"
"The high winds are supposed to pass quickly. I'll call in and check out the pattern. As soon as the waves calm down a bit, we'll be on our way."
"I have a terrible headache. I think I'll go rest.” She wanted to be out of their sight so she wouldn't imagine their fingers pointing to a deranged woman—her. “If there's anything I can help with, call me."
"Will do.” George glanced over at Rand, who sat like a toad on a log—blending into the background as if he weren't there.
Lori sensed the agitation radiating from Rand; it tore at her insides. She wondered why he'd closed off their conversation so abruptly. She couldn't let his misgivings weaken her determination to do what she could do—her objective called for a sharp mind. If she rested, the throbbing in her head might leave and she could form a plan to help see Malcolm and his sorry crew brought to justice—that end would damn well justify her means!
