Rock Harbor Search and Rescue (13 page)

Emily struggled to get the cold, wet, heavy towels into the industrial-sized washing machine.

“Need some help?” a male voice said.

She turned to see Brandon in the doorway. “I think I can get it.”

He stepped to the basket of towels. “They look heavy.”

She got out of the way so he could throw the last of the towels into the washer. “Thanks.”

She hadn’t been around him much, but he sure was cute. Dark hair and eyes and a nice smile.

He paused. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t believe you took that necklace.”

Her face flamed, and she looked at the floor. The whole school was talking. About her. All because of Rachel’s lies. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Sorry.”

Her stupid blushes. Emily wanted to melt through the floor. His footsteps moved away, and she peeked up as he disappeared through the doorway. She gulped and looked around for the soap
and bleach to load into the washer. Naomi would love one this big—she could wash the family’s clothes for an entire week in one load. Thinking about Naomi made Emily frown.

After everyone left last night, Dad and Naomi had brought her into the living room alone to talk. They’d lectured her about grilling Valerie. It wasn’t like she was doing it just to be nosy. She was trying to prove her innocence. Not that they cared. Dad was so mad he’d almost refused to sign the permission slip, but Naomi had advised it might give her something to do.

Translation: it might keep her out of trouble.

She would prove them all wrong when she found out what really happened to Mrs. Dancer’s necklace.

She added the detergent and bleach, just like Coach had instructed her, then set the washing machine to the longest cycle. After loading the rolling hamper with the towels from the dryer, she moved them to the row between the lockers where she could sit down to fold. This would take some time.

The door creaked open.

“We really appreciate everything you’ve already given us,” Coach said to someone. “The team was on the verge of having to forfeit because of our lack of backup equipment.”

Emily held her breath, squeezing a towel to her chest. She couldn’t see the coach, but the sounds of two sets of footsteps bounced off the locker room walls.

“I’m just happy to be able to help.” A woman’s voice, but Emily didn’t recognize it.

“We’re grateful.”

“And I appreciate you keeping the donations anonymous. I’m sure you can understand the delicate position I’m in.”

“Of course.”

Their footsteps stopped near the coach’s office. Emily eased to standing, then crept toward the end of the row of lockers. If she could just get a glimpse . . .

“I hope you understand what your generosity means to the Gitchee Gumee Surfers,” Coach said.

Emily leaned a little farther. The light was dimmer in the locker room. Coach flipped on the light in his office, but all she could see was the silhouette of a woman.

“I’m happy knowing I can help. Besides, I don’t feel right using this money on me. I want to give back.”

So she felt guilty and wanted to use the money to help? Sounded like Emily had a new suspect—if she could just see the woman’s face.

Emily inched her way around the end of the lockers, then tiptoed to the next row.

“Those suits and bags were more than enough, but this . . . well, these additional four boards will make all the difference to the team.” Coach sounded truly grateful.

“Just go out there and win the championship. Know that while I can’t publicly show my preference, I’m rooting for the Gitchee Gumees!” The woman chuckled, but not girly giggly. More husky. “It’d be nice for someone from the mainland to win instead of the Hawaiian teams for once.”

Was it Malia? Emily rounded the last row between her and the office. If she could just get a peek . . .

“I agree, but the team mainly wants to ensure they’ll beat their archrivals, the Keweenaw Bombers from Houghton. They’ve beaten up on us for the past five competitions. The team is pumped to beat them this year.”

“I hope they do.” The woman turned, her back solid to
Emily. “It’s a good boost to win. Especially after working so hard for it.”

Emily was almost sure it was Malia. She back-stepped to the bench, still holding the towel to her chest. If the woman would only turn around so she could tell for sure.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to write you a receipt for all these items? You could at least take them off your taxes,” Coach said. His chair scraped against the cracked tile floor behind his desk as he stood.

“No. I didn’t want to be a part of this to begin with, but now I have no choice. I’d rather just do what I can for the future surfing stars. It makes me feel better for selling out.” No mistaking the down tone of the woman’s voice.

Selling out? What did that mean? The whole thing sounded fishy to Emily. Like someone had gotten into something they didn’t want people to know about. Something they wanted to keep secret. Maybe even something illegal.

Like stealing a necklace and getting money for it.

“Well, we appreciate it.” Coach’s office light clicked off. “We aren’t too proud to take whatever we can get.”

“I’m happy something good can come out of all this.”

Footsteps shuffled against the floor.

Emily pressed herself against the cold metal lockers. She sucked in air and held her breath as the woman and Coach passed right in front of her.

They pushed open the door leading to the outside track. Afternoon sun spilled in from the outside, bathing them both in light.

As she’d thought, the anonymous donor was none other than Malia Spencer.

TEN

“I can’t wait to tell Olivia.” Emily talked aloud to herself as she finished folding the towels, giving Malia Spencer and Coach plenty of time to clear the area before she exited. After stacking the towels as instructed, she rushed from the locker room and rammed right into Rachel Zinn.

Slammed against the concrete wall, Rachel shoved Emily off her. Hard. “Ugh. Watch where you’re going, klutz.”

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“You weren’t even looking.” Rachel shook her head and twisted her face into a frown. “You are so annoying, Emily!”

Emily blocked her path. “Rachel, I want to know again what you thought I said to Olivia.”

“You know perfectly well what you said.”

“I sure do, and it wasn’t what you told the sheriff. So either you flat-out lied or you twisted something I said.”

Rachel put her hands on her hips. “I heard you tell her that you were making a copy of Mary Dancer’s necklace so you could switch it and make a lot of money. I don’t
think
I heard you say that. I
know
I did.”

“But I didn’t.” Emily popped her hands onto her hips and tried to remember anything she’d said that could have been twisted that way.

“This trying to make everyone think I’m lying is getting old. No one believes you. Gretchen heard you too. Ask her. She’ll tell you the same thing.” Rachel tossed her blond hair over her shoulder. “Another thing . . . you aren’t fooling anyone with this volunteering thing. Everybody knows you’re doing it just to get close to Josh.” Rachel smoothed her shiny blond hair. “Everybody’s laughing at you. Even Josh.” She snatched her backpack from the floor. “
Especially
Josh.” She turned and marched down the corridor in the direction of the parking lot.

Emily’s face burned hotter than a fire poker left in embers overnight. Was it true? Was everybody laughing behind her back? Did they all think she was a thief? Did they think she was just volunteering to get close to a boy? Did
Josh
? All of a sudden, she felt really sick to her stomach. She leaned against the cold concrete wall and closed her eyes. Was she a joke to everyone?

Emily took a breath and followed Rachel. She would
make
her tell the truth. Wasn’t there some kind of law against false testimony or something?

The late afternoon September sun blasted against her as soon as she opened the door. Emily blinked rapidly and shielded her eyes with her hand and let them adjust from the dimness of the locker room hallway. She looked around for Rachel but didn’t see her. It was as if she’d disappeared.

What was Rachel doing near the locker room, anyway? She should have been in cheerleading practice. The coach and Malia Spencer had left ten to fifteen minutes before, so there wasn’t a logical reason for Rachel to be in the hallway.

Unless she was up to no good.

Maybe Emily should focus on figuring out what Rachel would have done with the necklace if she took it. The more she thought about it, the more Emily realized Rachel had the best motive to take the necklace and put Emily’s copy in its place, then lie to the sheriff: to get Emily in trouble. She’d been there at both booths during the window of time the necklace went missing. Rachel loved watching Emily get in trouble. But what would she have done with the necklace after switching it? She wouldn’t have chanced anyone finding it. Had she hidden it? Gotten rid of it?

The only thing that didn’t make sense was Gretchen. Unless Rachel somehow convinced her to back her up. Or made her.

Determined to figure things out, Emily hurried toward her house. She needed to talk to Olivia. Maybe the two of them could find a way to get to Gretchen—to get to the truth.

As she walked home, the gong of the fog bell out in Lake Superior washed over the town. The wind had picked up, and the crash of the waves was oddly soothing.

She’d barely made it inside when Olivia rushed her into the bedroom and shut the door behind them. “How was it? What did you have to do? Did you find out anything? Did you see Josh?”

Emily laughed. “Hang on. Give me a second.” She set down her backpack and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “It was boring. I washed, dried, and folded laundry.”

“Laundry? You did laundry?”

“The towels from the team’s practice in last period, I guess.” She shrugged as she sat cross-legged on her bed. “But I did overhear something interesting. From Malia Spencer.”

Olivia’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

Emily relayed the conversation she’d overheard, careful not
to leave out any details. When she was done, Olivia plopped on the bed across from her. “What do you think she meant by
selling
out,
and what didn’t she want to be a part of?”

“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s making money. Enough that she’s giving away plenty of it to the surf team. Wet suits, board bags, leashes, and now backup surfboards.”

Olivia wrinkled her nose. “You know, my cousin is a surfer out in California, and I hear my aunt tell my mom all the time that the stuff for surfing is expensive. I saw the catalog Aunt Nia left here one time because I actually thought about taking up surfing.”

“You’re kidding. Let’s see how much.” Emily rushed down the hall to the computer in the living room where she ran a search for surfing gear. “Wow, look at this, Olivia. Those wet suits average about seventy dollars each. One for each team member totals seven hundred. The surfboard bags run at least fifty each, so for the entire team, that’s another five hundred. Add in leashes for the whole team and that’s another two hundred.”

Olivia tapped the end of her nose with her pointer finger. “That brings the total donation up to about fourteen hundred dollars already. You said they mentioned four surfboards? Even the cheaper competition-grade ones are two hundred each, so that would be another eight hundred bucks, for a grand total of twenty-two hundred dollars. That’s over double what Mrs. Dancer’s necklace is worth.”

Emily hadn’t considered all that. It was a lot of money. She and Olivia went back to her bedroom, and she turned her CD player on.

“So you don’t think Malia had anything to do with Mrs. Dancer’s necklace.”

Olivia shook her head. “Not unless something else is missing,
and I haven’t heard anything like that. The numbers just don’t add up.” She let out a sigh and leaned back against the mountain of pillows Emily collected at the headboard. “Malia might be into something she doesn’t want anyone to know about and she’s not happy about being a part of, but it’s making too much money for it to be Mrs. Dancer’s necklace.”

Suspect number two scratched off the list.