"Redemption's Run": Chapter 7 continues

A Star Tribune serialized novel by Jane Fredericksen

Chapter 7

The story so far: Kacie readies for a solo voyage.

Voices drifted from inside the cabin. One he recognized as Pete's.

Kinney knew he was expected, but he also knew how he felt about surprises, personally. Best to sound an early warning.

He paused by the walkway. "Permission to come aboard, Captain," he called.

The voices stopped. Pete's head appeared near a cabin window. He scowled at Kinney. "You've got nerve, all right."

A smile eased over Pete's bearded face. "Making an old sailor wait, like I've got all the time in the world." He frowned again. "Good grief, Jack, don't just stand there. Permission granted. Come aboard, you know the way."

Kinney half-smiled and stepped onto the gangway.

* * *

The Mainlander cabin looked much as he'd remembered, with rows of pine-colored benches leading up to a small concession bar.

Pete leaned against the bar, drinking his usual: a bottle of lemon water. A dark-haired man, mid-40s, sat on the bench closest to the concession stand. He sipped a glass of brandy. Beside the man sat Ronnie, holding a bottle of beer. She jumped up as Kinney approached, smiling shyly. The man stayed seated, but watched them both intently.

"Ronnie said you might stop by. That's why we asked Mr. Treiland here." Pete turned to the man with the brandy. "Vince, meet Jack McKinney."

The man stood slowly. He was tall, impeccably dressed, with a salon-style haircut and neatly trimmed mustache. He smelled of expensive cologne.

Kinney suddenly became aware of his own worn sweater and scuffed deck shoes. He hoped he'd remembered to shower that morning. He couldn't recall.

Vince smiled broadly. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr. McKinney." He extended his hand.

Tentatively, Kinney took it. "I'm … never really sure how to react to that, you know."

"Pete's a gracious guy," Kinney answered cautiously.

"That he is," acknowledged Vince. "Most generous with his brandy, too. Please, join us."

Ronnie stepped forward. "Glad you could make it," she whispered. Before he could answer, she moved to the bar. Vince stepped in beside her.

It might have been Kinney's imagination, but he thought he saw her step away, ever so slightly.

He perked up. And stepped to her other side.

A glass suddenly slid down the counter. Kinney glanced up to meet Pete's gaze. There was a world of meaning in the old captain's expression.

Watch yourself, it read. Don't blow this.

Kinney's eyes traveled from Pete's water to Vince's brandy. Compromise, he decided. He pointed to Ronnie's beer. "Whatever you're having, thanks."

"I'll get it," Ronnie volunteered and darted behind the counter, leaving Kinney beside Vince.

As Ronnie bent over to rummage through the cooler, Kinney watched appreciatively. After a few seconds, he became aware that Vince was watching her in the same way. It was an uncomfortable discovery.

The news caught Kinney by surprise. He shifted his attention back to Pete. "The one Chewy Chalmers owned?"

Vince took a sip of brandy. "The same."

His tone was cool, but Kinney detected a faint hint of pride. He studied Vince. The guy had money, then. Freshlake was the biggest charter business on Lake Superior. The stakes were higher than he'd suspected.

He heard Ronnie set the bottle of beer in front of him and as she did, her hand casually brushed against Kinney's.

It was as if a jolt of current passed between them.