Rock Harbor Search and Rescue

  “Naomi’s back.” Emily closed her math book and stood. “I do need to figure out why she hates me, but not by asking her.”

  “You know, Em, if she’s willing to steal to get you into trouble, there’s no telling what she’ll do to you next.”

  ELEVEN

  “You are not going to believe this.” Olivia grabbed Emily’s arm at the lockers after school on Friday. “Come on.” She dragged Emily out into the school’s courtyard, then around the corner to the vacant playground. She dropped her backpack on the ground, sat in one of the swings, and waited for Emily to do the same and sit in the swing beside her.

  “What? I have to get to the gym.” Emily looped her arms around the chains of the swing and noticed Josh and several other members of the surf team heading in that direction. She sat straighter and tucked her hair behind her ears.

  Olivia followed Emily’s line of focus. “Oh? Well, if doing laundry for Josh is more important than learning who the guy with Valerie was . . .”

  Heat flashed up Emily’s neck, but she ignored Olivia’s sarcasm and stared at her best friend. “You found out?”

  Olivia rolled her eyes and stretched her legs, letting the swing gently sway to the right and left. “If you have to go . . .”

  “Shut up.” Emily giggled and shoved Olivia, knocking her feet out from under her so she went into a swing. “Come on, Liv, tell me.”

  Olivia grinned and stopped the swing beside Emily. “Okay. The guy from my computer class, Charles, scanned the picture and tweaked it to make it clearer. Then he loaded it into some program he has that basically searches all graphic images on the Internet and spits back a list of web pages that the image and similar ones are on.”

  Interesting. “They have programs like that?”

  “Apparently.” Olivia leaned her swing closer to Emily’s as a group of kids walked by.

  Once they’d passed, Emily said, “I’ve seen that on TV, but I didn’t realize they were real. I mean, real and where anybody could use them.”

  “I don’t know. What I do know is Charles got several hits on Valerie’s friend. Excuse me, her business manager.”

  “He’s her business manager?”

  Olivia nodded. “After Charles found his name, which is Kenneth Lancaster, by the way, he did an Internet search to find out information about Mr. Lancaster.”

  “And? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be doing laundry or something?”

  Emily bumped her swing against Olivia’s. “Come on. Tell me.”

  “Well, it seems Mr. Lancaster doesn’t have the best reputation in the world.”

  “Really?”

  Olivia nodded. “We found a lot of tabloid reports where models fired him for mishandling their money.”

  She sucked in her breath. “He stole?” Her pulse sped up at the thought that maybe this whole nightmare would be over soon.

  “The articles didn’t exactly say that. Just guessed that he’d mishandled their money.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. But there were three different models who fired him using that exact phrase. Oh, and one who not only fired him but has stated she intends to sue him as well.”

  “For what?”

  Olivia shrugged. “We couldn’t find out exactly, but Charles said he’d continue to do research for me.” She blushed.

  Emily grinned. “Does someone have a crush on Charles?” It was fun to pay back a little.

  The red in Olivia’s face deepened. “No. I mean, he’s nice enough, but no. No.”

  Emily giggled lightheartedly. She so understood her friend’s fluster. She felt the same way whenever she talked about Josh. It was worse when she got around him. “I’m just teasing.”

  “I know.” Olivia smiled. “But all the info we found on Mr. Lancaster doesn’t explain what he’s doing here in Rock Harbor.”

  “I don’t guess agents go on important photo shoots with their clients, huh?”

  “No. Think how many clients most modeling agencies have—it’d be impossible for an agent to go on all the important jobs with all their clients.”

  Made sense. “So why is he here with Valerie for her big Surf’s Up shoot?”

  “Exactly.”

  Hmm. It seemed like every time they’d turned over a new lead, they were only hit with more questions. Too many questions, too few answers. And she was running out of time. Olivia’s parents would be home tomorrow.

  Olivia glanced at the gym. “You’d better get going. Laundry’s probably calling.” She grinned. “Charles said he’d call if he found out anything. He said he could search better at home anyway because the school has certain websites and search engines blocked.”

  “I’ll see if I can find out anything more about Malia Spencer. See you in a bit.” Emily jumped out of the swing, grabbed her backpack, and jogged toward the gym. She quickly went inside, turning down the dark hall to reach the team room just outside the locker room where the coach’s office sat.

  Seven guys and three girls made up the Gitchee Gumee Surfers. They were already dressed in their old wet suits. They all stopped talking and stared at her as she walked into the team room. Her face burned, and it was as if her feet took root right in the tile floor.

  Coach Larson stood and walked beside Emily. “Everyone, this is, uh—” He turned and whispered to her, “What’s your name again?”

  “Emily O’Reilly,” Brandon said.

  Emily shot him a quick glance, then looked away. Caycie, a senior who was really good, whispered something to her boyfriend and fellow surfer, Trevor. They both laughed.

  Coach glared at the two of them. “Emily has graciously volunteered to help out the team with equipment, water bottles, and stuff.”

  A couple of the sophomores nodded in her direction. Junior teammate Drake grinned and mock-punched Josh, whose face turned red as fast as Emily’s. She dropped her gaze to the floor.

  Coach tapped his clipboard. “We were just about to head to the surf. You ready to go?”

  That shocked the speech back into her. “Me? Why would I go?”

  He laughed. “Team, get in the van. Don’t forget your leashes this time.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “We are a surf team, Emily. Of course most of our practices are on the lake. Come on, grab those towels you put away yesterday and shove them in the bag hanging on my office door. Bring them along.” He checked his clipboard. “We’re the big white passenger van in the parking lot. Hurry. We only have an hour before practice is over.” He turned and exited the door to the hallway.

  She headed into the locker room with her pulse throbbing in her throat. It was stupid to get so riled up. Just because she was going to be on the beach didn’t mean she had to get even close to the waters of Lake Superior. She’d probably just hand out towels as the team members finished. Emily shoved towels into the bag the coach had mentioned, talking herself into feeling better. Yeah, she wouldn’t have to get near the water. She would probably stay near the van, if not inside it.

  Emily dragged the heavy bag out of the locker room, down the darkened hallway, and into the parking lot. She tried to lift the bag, carrying it over her shoulder, but with almost twenty towels in a heavy canvas bag, she found she could barely drag the thing.

  Brandon ran to meet her. He easily lifted the bag, tossing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Hey, thanks for volunteering to help out the team. We really appreciate it.”

  She nodded despite the heat burning her face and neck. “No problem.” She fell into step beside him as he made long strides toward the van.

  He smiled down at her, flashing a row of perfectly white and perfectly straight teeth in sharp contrast to his darker complexion. The smile reached his almost black eyes. His longish, black hair screamed of his Ojibwa heritage. “I didn’t tell you my name earlier. You know, in the laundry room. It’s Brandon.”

  “I know.” She could have bit off her tongue as soon as
the words were out of her mouth. “I mean, you’re the captain, right? The first one ever in middle school.” If only the ground would open up and swallow her whole right about now. This was the closest she’d ever been to him, and he was really cute. Maybe even cuter than Josh.

  “I am.” He swung the bag into the back of the van, then shut the door with a loud bang.

  “Come on, team. Time’s wasting.” Coach shoved himself behind the steering wheel. “Emily, why don’t you come sit in the front seat?”

  Where was Olivia when she needed her? She climbed into the front seat.

  “I have a surprise for you today,” Coach said as he pulled into the parking area for the beach.

  “Yeah, what’s that?” Brandon asked.

  Coach parked the van and killed the engine. “You’re going to get some pointers from a true pro.” He opened his door and stepped down.

  Emily opened her door and hopped out as the sliding door opened. The surf team spilled out and grabbed their boards, all talking at once.

  “Who’s the pro?”

  “Would I suffice?” a female voice said behind them.

  Everyone, including Emily, turned at the sound of her voice.

  Malia Spencer stood in her designer wet suit, holding her championship board and smiling at Coach. “Let’s see what this team of yours can do.”

  “Ms. Spencer!” one of the girls squealed.

  The other team members wore excited expressions, and they surrounded her in a loud circle.

  Coach nodded. “Do your warm-ups, then hit the water, team.”

  Ten students raced toward the lake with boards under their arms, sand kicking up behind them. Emily stood awkwardly to the side. “Um, Coach, would you like me to wait at the van?”

  “Not at all. Grab the bag of towels and come on down.” He turned and walked with Malia behind the surfers.

  Grab the bag. Great. Brandon wasn’t here to help her get it out of the back of the van. With a sigh, Emily opened the back door and reached for the heavy duffel. It fell on top of her, nearly knocking her off balance. As it was, her arm jammed against the unforgiving metal door.

  “Ouch.” That was going to leave a bruise for sure. She grabbed the pull strap of the duffel and dredged it across the gritty sand. Maybe she should have thought this volunteering thing through just a little more. She’d rather be doing the laundry than hanging out this close to the lake, dragging a heavy bag.

  If she and Olivia could just figure out who took Mary Dancer’s necklace and get it back, she could stop this charade of volunteering.

  Emily hugged herself, wishing she’d grabbed the jacket from her locker. She got the shivers just thinking about getting in the water, and the air held a hint of moisture that promised rain.

  The surf team did their stretches and lined up in a row across the beach. Coach Larson and Malia stood off to the side, whispering. Emily left the heavy bag of towels by the stack of board bags, then crept behind Coach and Malia.

  “Is it getting any better?” Coach asked Malia.

  “No, but I don’t have any choice. I signed the contract.”

  What contract? Emily inched closer and started braiding her hair, pretending not to even notice them a few feet in front of her.

  “Being a spokesperson isn’t all bad, Malia. They’re paying you well. Very well. And I have to say, we’re benefiting from that.”

  Spokesperson. Ah, that would explain her donations.

  “I just feel like I sold out the sport. Once I won the championship, everything changed.” Malia’s head bent. “It’s not about surfing anymore, it’s all about selling a product or endorsing something. I hate it.”

  “It’ll be okay. You only have what—until April for the next championship? Then your contract will expire, and you can stop all of it.”

  Malia’s head popped up. “Are you implying I won’t win the women’s world championship next year?”

  Coach chuckled. “Nope. I’m just saying you’ll know better than to sign any spokesperson or endorsement contracts again.”

  Malia laughed and faced Coach. Emily ducked her head as she reached the end of her braid and secured it with the hair tie from around her wrist. She turned away from the two, wanting to ensure if Malia saw her, she wouldn’t think Emily had been eavesdropping.

  She slowly walked back toward the pile of bags, her mind racing. Malia had nothing to do with Mrs. Dancer’s missing necklace. Olivia had been right—the large amount of money Malia had been using to donate items to the school’s swim team had nothing to do with the necklace and everything to do with contracts and junk.

  Emily plopped down on the sand and sat cross-legged, looking out over the surf. Maybe she’d get lucky and Olivia’s friend would find out something about Kenneth Lancaster.

  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head and spied Gretchen walking her dog along the edge of the beach.

  Jumping to her feet, Emily brushed the sand from her jeans as she raced toward her. “Gretchen! Gretchen!”

  Holding the leash tight, Gretchen faced her. “Hi, Emily.” Her voice sounded a bit . . . odd.

  “Hey.” Emily stopped, bending to pet the tail-wagging chocolate Labrador. “What’s his name?”

  “Hershey.”

  Emily straightened and stared at Gretchen. “Listen, I wanted to ask you about what you told the sheriff. About me and Mrs. Dancer’s necklace.”

  Gretchen frowned. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble, but I had to tell him what I overheard you say to Olivia when Rachel told him I was there and heard you.”

  “I never said I planned to steal her necklace.” Looking Gretchen in the eye, Emily didn’t believe she was lying to get her into trouble.

  “But I heard you.”

  There had to be some logical explanation. “Let me think for a minute.”

  Hershey tugged on his leash. Gretchen clicked the button to allow the dog more slack. He pressed his nose in the sand and pawed, his tail wagging in the air.

  Emily had to figure this out. She wanted her own puppy!

  “Okay, when and where do you think you heard me say this?” All the good movie detectives always started at the beginning to solve a case.

  “About four weeks ago or so, in the girls’ bathroom. The one by the cafeteria. Right after lunch, before the bell rang.”

  Emily thought hard. That would’ve been right after she’d seen the news article on the necklace in the paper. “Who all was in the bathroom?”

  Gretchen wrinkled her nose as Hershey pawed another area of sand. “Well, me and Rachel were in our stalls because we’d had to wait in line.” She pressed a finger to her chin and squinted her eyes. “Sally had just finished washing her hands, I think, because I heard the sink turn off and paper towels pull out of the holder.”

  None of this sounded familiar to Emily, but it could’ve been any day of the school week. She and Olivia always went to the bathroom after lunch so Emily could floss. She couldn’t stand not to floss after eating.

  “I remember I heard the door open and then your voice. You were saying you couldn’t wait for the festival. Then I heard Olivia say she was almost finished with her costume.”

  Still didn’t ring any bells with Emily, but sounded like a conversation she and Olivia could’ve had.

  “Then I heard you tell Olivia you were working hard on the copy of Mrs. Dancer’s necklace and that you hoped to be finished by the festival so you could swap it and make a lot of money.” Gretchen swallowed hard as she tugged Hershey from the water. “I’m sorry, Emily, really I am, but that’s what I heard.”

  There was no way she heard that because Emily hadn’t said it. But she did have the normal routine after lunch. Go to her locker, get her floss, go to the bathroom, floss, rinse . . .

  “Did you hear the sink turn on when I was talking to Olivia?”

  Gretchen blinked several times. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  “When?”

  “Um, right after y
ou said you were working hard on the copy.”

  Hershey barked at the surf team paddling to the beach. “Shh, boy.” Gretchen gently tugged on his leash. He stuck his nose back into the sand, sniffing away.

  Emily’s heartbeat jumped into double time. “Was it on when you think I said I planned to swap the necklace?”

  Again, Gretchen blinked rapidly. “Yes. It stayed on until I came out of the stall. You turned it off and wiped your hands and face with a paper towel. I told you hi at the other sink.”

  Now it all made sense. “The water was on when you thought you heard me say I could swap the necklace and make a lot of money?”

  Gretchen nodded.

  “And you were in which stall?”

  “The one against the wall.”

  “The one where all the sounds are kinda muffled because of the concrete wall?”

  “I heard you, Emily.” Gretchen frowned.

  “Is it possible that you thought you heard me say ‘swap it’ when I really said ‘sell it’? Think . . . the water was on, you were in the back stall . . . Is it possible?” Emily held her breath.

  Gretchen’s eyes went wide. “I guess it would’ve been easy enough to think sell was swap. I guess.”

  Emily let out her breath in a whoosh. “What happened next? That you remember?”

  “You and Olivia told me bye and left, then Rachel came out of the first stall. She said she never could understand why you, or Mrs. Dancer for that matter, thought anyone would want homemade jewelry.”

  This was great! It had all been a misunderstanding.

  “I’m sorry, Emily. I never meant to get you in trouble. I really thought you’d said swap when Rachel told the sheriff that’s what you’d said.”

  Rachel. She’d probably heard Emily right but changed the word to tell the sheriff and convince Gretchen that’s what she’d heard—all to get Emily in trouble.

  “I know you didn’t mean to. Sounds like an honest mistake to me.” At least now she had an explanation for the sheriff.

  And for Dad.

  TWELVE

  Sheriff Kaleva looked stern as he sat across from Emily at the kitchen table. “I understand what you’re saying, but Gretchen saying she might’ve misheard a word isn’t exactly evidence of your innocence.”