She looked up at him. “How on earth did you come to that conclusion?”
“It only makes sense,” he argued. “Look, he’s a scuba diver, right?”
She nodded. “Right.”
“And he knows these waters pretty damned well.”
“Like the back of his hand.”
“Let’s say, just for argument’s sake, that while he’s out diving one day, he runs across a sunken wreck.”
“One with treasure on it,” Lani said, warming to the idea.
“Exactly. So he concocts a plan to get the loot off the boat without anyone knowing.”
“But Taylor finds out and turns him in to the FBI?” she asked skeptically. “I’ll admit she appears to be lying about what she knows about all this, but a woman can tell when another woman’s in love. And Taylor is definitely in love with Ford. She’d never do anything that would risk getting him arrested. No matter what he’d done.”
Lani shook her head firmly. “I’m sorry, but that piece just doesn’t fit at all, Donovan.”
“Sure it does.” As his eyes gleamed with enthusiasm, Lani decided that she loved watching Donovan’s detective mind work. “Let’s assume that Britton told Taylor about the ship,” he continued patiently. “Or that she got suspicious enough about all his absences to break things off.”
“She told me she’d considered calling off the wedding,” Lani allowed.
“Which underscores my point. So, taking the matter one step further, let’s also suppose that the cargo, whatever it is, belongs to the U.S. government.”
“All right. So far I’m with you, but…”
Lani’s voice trailed off as comprehension suddenly dawned. This must be like how Nate felt when he was plotting a book. “Next chapter…
“Since Taylor loves Ford, she doesn’t want him to go to prison. So, without telling him what she’s doing, she goes to Oahu to talk to the FBI, and without giving any details, tries to find out if they’d be willing to pay a reward.”
“A finder’s fee,” Donovan agreed. “That way—”
“Ford gets more money than he’d make in several lifetimes with that diving business of his, he stays out of jail, he and Taylor get married, and both of them live happily ever after,” Lani said.
“That’s a workable scenario. It would also explain why she never contacted the local police yesterday,” Donovan agreed. “She’s obviously trying to protect him and figured the Feds pull more weight.”
That last was certainly unwelcome news to Lani. “Taylor didn’t contact the police?”
“Nope. Chief Kanualu didn’t know anything about the vandalism.”
“Yet another piece of the puzzle pointing to Taylor knowing what’s going on,” Lani admitted reluctantly. “But I still don’t believe she knows what’s happened to Ford. Otherwise, why would she involve you? And go to the FBI?”
“Good question.” He reluctantly pushed aside the top sheet that was barely covering her tan body. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re wasting time. Let’s go check the harbor records.”
“For sunken ships?”
He ruffled her hair with an easy familiarity. “You are not only one drop-dead sexy wahine, you plenny primo detective, Lani Breslin.”
* * *
“Where did I ever get the idea that police work was exciting?” Lani complained on their second day of searching through the stacks of leather-bound journals, seeking some record of the Wainani . Unfortunately, Orchid Island hadn’t yet digitized all their records, which dated back to the 1700s.
“Despite what you’ve seen on television, most of it is painstaking detail work,” Donovan said. “Like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack.”
“Well, we couldn’t have found a dustier haystack if we’d tried,” she complained, wiping at a smudge on her pink T-shirt. “Whatever happened to the computer age?”
“You’re the one who pointed out that things are a little slower here,” he reminded her as he skimmed through yet another thick journal.
“I know.” Lani sighed. “But it seems so hopeless, Donovan. What if it turns out that the Wainani isn’t a boat, after all? We will have wasted two valuable days of your vacation.”
“It’s a boat,” he reassured her confidently. “And as for my vacation, I’d never consider any time spent with you wasted.”
She managed a weak smile. “Sometimes you can say the nicest things. Thank you. I needed that right now.”
She sounded tired and uncharacteristically discouraged. Reminding himself that Lani was not used to spending her days in dingy basement storage rooms, searching for the single key that might unlock an entire case, Donovan put the heavy book aside and went over to her.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you look terrific with dirt on your cheeks?” he asked as he ran his knuckles over her cheekbone.
“You’re just prejudiced.”
“Probably so,” he agreed easily. “But you still look gorgeous in dirt.”