Precarious Summer

by Lyn Cote

  Northern Shore Intrigue series

  Precarious Summer

  Book 1

  Lyn Cote

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Precarious Summer (Northerner Shore Intrigue, #1)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  EPILOGUE

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Originally published as Dangerous Season by Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense, 2007

  Epigraph

  Be angry and sin not. —Ephesians 4:15

  Speak the truth in love. —Ephesians 4:26

  Dedication in

  memory of my unofficial aunt,

  Audrey Dornbush Seipold, and her daughter,

  Mary Seipold, who left us much too soon

  Chapter One

  Driving down the two-lane highway into Winfield, Sheriff Carter Harding yawned in the bright early-morning light. Friday was the first day of the Memorial Day weekend and the kickoff of the summer tourist season. Each challenging summer Winfield’s population swelled at least ten times. And this was his first summer as sheriff. That must explain why he’d awakened this morning both tired and keyed up—as if toeing the starting line at a race, yet groggy. Coffee, I just need coffee to wake up.

  At this thought, the attractive image of a tall, slender blonde pouring fragrant coffee into a mug came to mind. But fortunately, a familiar red-and-white sign, shaped like a lighthouse, caught his eye. The unique sign marked Ollie’s, the local gas station convenience store. Now it almost flagged him down like a NASCAR pit crew. That’s right. I need gas, too. And I really don’t need her fancy coffee.

  “Yes, but her fancy coffee is so good,” a persuasive voice whispered inside him.

  Resolutely, he pulled into Ollie’s and up to a gas pump. The place looked deserted. Many tourists were still sleeping in after the long Thursday-night drive or flight north. Even more would be traveling north tonight. He got out of his Winfield County Sheriff Jeep. The air smelled fresh and its chill was invigorating. He reached for the gas pump, and heard a loud boom.

  Jerking back, he looked around the gas pumps. From the rear of the store, flames leaped high. He bounded inside the convenience store, past the empty counter and toward the rear. There, he found Beau, Ollie’s teenage grandson, incoherently shouting while unlocking a fire extinguisher cap. The back door stood open and he could see bright orange flames outside. Heat rolled through the door.

  “Are you okay?” Carter demanded. “Anyone else here?”

  “Nobody else!” Beau began advancing toward the doorway, competently spraying white foam at the flames.

  “Shut that door when you can!” Carter reversed himself, ran out and around to the back. When he got there, Beau had moved outside and was spraying foam onto wooden pallets stacked around the door. The contents of the nearby dark green dumpster were ablaze, too. But the fire had nowhere else to spread in the asphalt alley. Black smoke roiled skyward.

  Heat buffeted Carter. Ash and sparks danced overhead. Rather than waste time waiting for the volunteer fire company, he located the outside faucet and hose. Picking up the spray nozzle, he turned the water on full force. He sprayed the pallets and, while advancing, sprayed inside the dumpster. When he got close enough, he slammed down its blasted, twisted, and warped plastic lid. From the side, he funneled more water inside the dumpster. Within minutes, he and Beau had the fire out. The soggy, still-warm remains hissed with steam.

  “Wow,” Beau said, lowering the now-empty fire extinguisher. “Am I ever glad Gramps replaced the old extinguisher last week!”

  “What happened?” Carter kept wetting down the smoldering remains of the charred pallets, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “How did this start?”

  “It was really weird. I just opened the back door and bang-whoosh!” Beau turned back toward the door. “I gotta call my grandpa. He’s gonna be really ticked.”

  “Don’t give him another heart attack,” Carter ordered. “Tell him the fire’s out. And that I’m here already investigating.”

  “Right!”

  Cold water splashing his shoes, Carter kept the hose in his hand as he edged around the scorched area. He eyed the paint-blistered metal rear door. After twisting the hose nozzle off, he squatted down to examine something lying on the ground below the door’s threshold. A very thin wire—a trip wire. Someone had strung a length of wire across the back entrance.

  Carter’s stomach tightened. He rose and followed the wire, picking his way through the blackened debris. With the hose nozzle, he nudged back the damaged plastic lid of the dumpster. On the inside were the remains of what looked like an incendiary pack. The flames had hidden it from view. Carter nudged the remains of the explosive, which seemed composed of soggy duct tape and the rim of an exploded quart jar.

  He wrinkled his nose. He hated the acrid smell of smoke and he detected the odor of gasoline. The pallets must have been soaked with gasoline to ignite and flame up that quickly and completely.

  The presence of an accelerant and a trip wire made it certain. This fire had been no accident. Someone had designed and executed a simple but very effective booby trap. Who? Why?

  The name Chad Keski instantly popped into his mind. Over a year ago, Chad had been removed from his abusive father’s custody and had gone to live with Shirley Johnson as her foster son. Before that, he’d been known for setting fires. But why would Chad start up again, and why at Ollie’s? Carter slid out his cell phone and notified the fire chief about the fire.

  Beau appeared. “Grandpa’s on his way. You think Chad did this?”

  Carter’s empty stomach constricted a notch tighter. He faced Beau. If both of them had immediately suspected Chad, wouldn’t most of Winfield? “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. Just because in the past Chad set fires doesn’t mean he set this one. When was the last time you went out that door before the explosion?”

  Beau took a moment before replying, his face screwed up with concentration. “I stocked shelves around three this morning, and I tossed some cardboard boxes out here.”

  Carter frowned. “That was the last time before the explosion?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you smell gasoline or kerosene then?”

  “Yeah, this is a gas station. I always smell gasoline.”

  “Is there any bad blood between you and Chad?”

  “No.” Beau stuck his hands in his back jeans pockets. “I’m two years older than him. We don’t have friends in common or anything. We’ve never even argued about anything.”

  “Then let’s not start up any gossip. Okay?”

  “Fine by me. But you know how this little burg is. I cough, and everyone knows it ten minutes later.”

  The kid’s apt observation forced a dry chuckle from Carter, even though the truth of the statement wasn’t funny. “I’ll get my kit and start inve
stigating.” He dropped the hose back by the faucet and headed for his Jeep, his mind buzzing.

  Where had Chad been in the early hours before dawn today? He dismissed the idea of questioning Chad or Shirley directly. Carter knew from personal experience what it felt like to be the first one everyone suspected when something went wrong. By the time he was fourteen years old, he’d been the first suspect for every misdeed in Winfield and the surrounding county. And some people in town still looked at him as not worthy of being sheriff. Maybe a person never lived down their mistakes. Carter shook this off, focusing on the present. He wouldn’t reinforce Chad’s questionable reputation if he could avoid it. But could he?

  Who could he ask about Chad’s whereabouts without stirring up rumors?

  The answer came quickly. The same image from a few minutes ago of a tall, slender blonde flashed through his mind—Audra. She might know where Chad had been just before dawn this morning. He suspected she’d been up, probably leaving for work at the critical early-morning hour. Almost family to Shirley, she lived in Shirley’s house along with Chad.

  He reached his Jeep and dug out a crime scene kit. What could be more natural than for Carter to stop at Audra’s Place for morning coffee? No one—not even her uncle—could make anything out of it other than what it appeared. Then Carter’s conscience demanded to know if questioning her about Chad was his real motive. Or was he just looking for an excuse to talk to her?

  But, more to the point, this year’s tourist season had started with a bang. And if Chad hadn’t set the fire, who had—and why?

  JUST AFTER SEVEN A.m. Audra Blair stepped into the cool clear air. Anticipation and jittery nerves made it hard for her to breathe. Can I make this work, Lord? She placed a tray of brand-new brown china mugs on the counter inside the foyer of her newly renovated Victorian house turned café. She’d positioned the wheeled counter just inside the open front door so she could serve customers, sheltered from wind, rain, and hot sun. She gazed out through the white gingerbread and pillared front porch to the small green lawn. A glossy dark green wrought-iron fence separated her property from the busy sidewalk.

  Small wrought-iron café tables and chairs dotted the wraparound porch and front yard. Those two areas plus the foyer—where she had coffee machines, a beverage steamer, and the glass-cased counter for baked goods—comprised her alfresco café, simply named Audra’s Place. Along Winfield’s wharf, which was across the street from her, were eager but sweatered tourists lined up to buy tickets for the Lake Superior lighthouse and island cruises. Soon they’d begin boarding the double-decker boats for the first Apostle Islands cruises of the day. She thought she glimpsed the red hair of her cousin who was working the cruises this year. White gulls screeched overhead. And tethered to the adjoining marina, sailboats and large power crafts danced on the lapping waves.

  Under her white cotton Audra’s Place apron, she wore a thick Fair Isle sweater and chinos to ward off the chill. But an errant shiver of excitement zipped up her spine. Though she’d been open for a few weeks, this was the true beginning of the year’s tourist season—this Friday morning launched her bid for security in earnest for her and Evie. Today she’d begin to make it or break it.

  Suddenly an errant thought intruded. Would he stop in for coffee today? She gave herself a little shake and forced it out of her mind.

  The first tourists of this important day began streaming through her open gate and up the flagstone path to form a line at her counter. They eagerly ordered her coffee and baked goods. Grinning, she rang up sale after sale. Her hopes for a busy and profitable day gleamed brighter. Yes.

  While Audra counted out change, she watched her hardworking little daughter with her long dark braids spray disinfectant and then scrub one of the small glass-topped tables. Kindergarten was over for the year, so this was Evie’s first day at the café. She had insisted on helping. So Audra had finally given in and agreed to let her wipe tables. When Evie tired of this, Audra had coloring books and crayons ready for her in the foyer. Now Audra treasured the sight of Evie’s pretty face, twisted with such concentration as she worked.

  Behind the counter Audra started yet another pot of coffee. Then she turned to help the final customer of the first rush and saw Carter Harding striding through her open gate. He was a raven-haired man with the imposing build of a lumberjack.

  Audra expected his usual routine with her—hurry to the counter and grab a quick coffee to go. But then he did something unexpected. He paused to talk to her daughter, even squatting down on his heels to look her right in the eye. But what could he be saying to Evie?

  As Audra rang up the remaining customer’s sale, she saw Evie beam at Carter, nodding an enthusiastic yes to him. After touching the little girl’s shoulder, the sheriff, in his brown and khaki uniform, headed toward the counter and Audra. “Coffee smells good,” he said, his face a mask.

  Audra glanced up into Carter’s hunter-green eyes. Her hands rested on the cool glass counter. His long face, all planes and angles, had always come across to her as austere. In this small community, they couldn’t help but meet each other outside of work. And Audra had admitted to herself just yesterday that whenever he appeared in the same vicinity as she, her eyes repeatedly strayed to him. He always stood straight and tall. Now, something in his eyes, their intensity perhaps, alerted her. She gazed at him, looking for clues to his thoughts. Did it have something to do with Evie? What did you say to my daughter?

  “A large black Breakfast Blend to go.” His voice was as dark and rich as the sharp-scented espresso she’d just brewed. He dug out his wallet and laid dollar bills on the counter.

  “Coming right up.” She turned to fill a tall cardboard cup, feeling his intense gaze on her back. Facing him again, she couldn’t stop herself. “What were you and Evie discussing?” she asked.

  Through the open door, the brisk wind blew the sheriff’s dark bangs around, revealing a small scar over one eyebrow. “I was telling Evie,” he confided, resting one elbow on the counter, “that she’s a good girl to help her mother.”

  Audra grinned and grimaced at the same time. “I tried to tell her she was too young and she didn’t need to help me out.”

  He made a rough sound like half a chuckle. “Bet she didn’t like that.”

  “No, she didn’t. She planted her hands on her hips like she sees Shirley do sometimes”—Audra demonstrated—“and said, ‘I am too big enough to help. I’m seven now, ’member?’”

  “She’s a good kid.” He nodded as if emphasizing his words. “And Shirley seems like a good person for a little girl to imitate. I’ve been teasing Tom about Shirley.” His face lightened for just a moment like a single ray of sunlight slipping between lingering storm clouds.

  Audra tried to fight a grin. So she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Carter’s stepfather Tom’s pursuit of Shirley? She was glad Carter sounded in favor of Shirley and Tom being a couple. The only problem with their romance in Audra’s opinion was that by Tom getting closer to Shirley it drew Carter and Audra in closer proximity with each other. And the sheriff was coming to mind way too often as it was.

  Still, something else other than the older couple’s budding romance hovered in his sober eyes now. She rushed to fill up the silence that had expanded between them. “You know more about that than I do. I’ve been so busy getting ready for business over the past few weeks that I get home to Shirley’s late. I just nibble on some leftovers before going to sleep.” She capped his hot coffee and handed it to him. Would he tell her what he was holding back?

  “You must get up pretty early in the morning.”

  Her radar tingled. Just an idle comment? No. A man like Carter didn’t make idle comments. What was he fishing for? Did it have something to do with her or her daughter? But how could that be?

  Carter looked pained and then leaned closer. His next words betrayed no emotion but much caution. “I want to ask you a question and I want you to keep it in confidence. Will you?”

&n
bsp; Her sense of something being wrong heightened. She automatically lowered her voice, too. “What’s this about?”

  Hunching casually over the counter, he took a cautious sip of steaming coffee. “Had to investigate a fire already this morning. Back of Ollie’s convenience store.”

  The unwelcome news tightened her nerves another notch. “I didn’t hear the siren.”

  He shrugged.

  In the continued lull between customers, she wiped the counter, thinking. She lifted her eyes to his. “If it’s important, I’ll keep mum. What do you want to ask me?”

  Their gazes connected. “Was Chad at home when you left early to come here?”

  She froze. Chad? “You think Chad might have set the fire?”

  “I don’t know. The main part of my job is asking questions. I have to ask a lot of innocent questions and question a lot of innocents.” He said no more, but pinned her with his intense eyes.

  Suddenly breathless, she said, “I don’t know if Chad was at home or not. I passed his door on my way downstairs, but it was closed.”

  He nodded.

  Avoiding eye contact, she polished away another set of fingerprints from her glass counter. “How serious was the fire?”

  “Not much damage. No one was hurt.”

  “I’m glad.” She paused. “I don’t think Chad’s who you’re looking for. A year ago I wouldn’t have said that, but he’s come a long way.”

  Unwillingly, her mind brought up Carter’s past. If this were twenty years ago, Carter would have been in Chad’s position. She met his eyes again and got the feeling that the stern man before her knew what she was thinking.

  He straightened up. “That was my thought, too. But setting fires can be a compulsive behavior. Listen. I don’t want to trouble Shirley or accuse Chad. At this point, it would be exactly the wrong thing to do. I don’t want to trigger him into rebellion and more trouble.”

  Respect for this man’s astute analysis rushed through Audra. She reached into the pastry case, tucked a brioche into a white sack and handed it to him.