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that no good bait-for-brains. I should have known he’d sell me bad part. Cripes, he probably sold it to me on purpose.”
    Jamie stepped out of the engine housing and stood up, shaking off the crick in his back. His leg ached from being crouched in the small compartment, but he chose to ignore it. The last thing he needed was for his perspective employer to notice his injury. Any sign of weakness could be a reason for him not to hire him.
    Jamie edged his way to the side of the boat and levered himself up, over and onto the dock. The other man followed along behind, scratching his head.
    “I appreciate you finding it. I guess I missed it when I was down there.”
    Jamie shook his head. “You’d have gotten it sooner or later.”
    He held out his hand to him. “Name’s John Case.”
    Jamie looked at John’s hands. His long callused fingers were cracked and thick. One fingernail was almost gone.
    John Case. Shelby's uncle and the man who topped the suspect list.
    Case had dropped into his lap and he hadn’t even known. Now, all he had to do was figure out what an Irishman with no past to speak of was doing in Chandler, Maine and acting as though he’d been here all of his life.
    Jamie reached out for the offered hand. “Does this mean you’re going to hire me?”
    John looked out past the boat, toward the water, weighing his options, keeping his cards close to his chest. “You’re hired. I just have one question.”
    “What’s that?” He was ready for anything. If he had to, he’d give a skill demonstration. Hell, he’d work a week for free if it meant he could get close to Case.
    John nodded at Jamie's feet. “Are you gonna work in those fancy boots or are you gonna get yourself some real ones like mine?”
    Jamie looked down at his worn, cowboy boots, with their smooth soles and raised heel. They were out of place with John’s black rubber boots. “I guess I’ll just be buying myself some of them fancy ones like yours.”
    John laughed, clamping a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “And I know just the place you can get some. We start on Monday, bright and early. Be here at five, or I leave without you.”

CHAPTER THREE
     
    By the time Shelby finished putting the kettle on the stove for her after-dinner tea, the afternoon light outside her kitchen window was turning to evening dusk.
    There was no sign of her uncle. He’d gone down to the wharf to make sure everything was set for the night, leaving her to bear the quietness of the vacant house. She hated it. It was much too quiet.
    She’d given in to the lingering, Indian summer warmth and donned a pair of cut off jeans, the edges frayed with washing. Her sleeveless top left her arms bare to the cooling breeze.
    It had been quite a day.
    All afternoon she’d been distracted by the image of Jamie Rivard on his motorcycle. It sounded trite, like a reference to a country song, but she couldn’t get his slow, easy smile out of her mind. Or the way he’d been relaxed, even polite, as she’d given him a dressing down.
    Her cheeks flared with embarrassment. She was rude to him, more than he deserved. But there was something about him that made her uneasy. More than anyone else in a very long time.
    She piled the dishes into the sink and started running the water into one side, adding the dish soap as her mind wandered.
    Josh wasn’t in yet and it was getting late.
    And because he was late, she couldn’t help thinking about that night almost a year ago when she’d waited for Tommy to come back. The hours had gotten later and later, with no sign or word of him or his boat. And she’d been left waiting and hoping for the best and somehow knowing the worst was yet to come.
    Tommy had been late before. He was a hard worker, always pushing himself to pull in one more string of traps or set out one more line. But that night she’d spent hours standing at the window looking out over the water, watching for him as the other boats had come in for the night. And