Rock Harbor Search and Rescue (15 page)

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 you 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.