Page 35 of Wrecked
“Okay, sure, but someone had to go all the way back to his birth to wipe his history.”
Midnight tapped, stopped, tapped, then quieted. “Me thinks Leclair started out as a Benson. Most o’ ’is school records are gone. The rest be electronic files marked as Leclair. E-files probably would not ’ave been used in a small school back then. That would mean someone with juice went back and recreated ’is history after Leclair disappeared in the Army. The school administration would likely not o’ noticed once he was gone.”
Leclair had lost everything, even his history.
She winced in hurt for someone she didn’t even know but felt as if she sort of did know him. At least she knew him better than some stranger walking down the street.
He was an operative. That’s all she needed to know.
When she shook off her weird reaction, her gut started talking to her big time to key on how he could be found. “This sounds like it fits the profile of the man I’m hunting. I don’t know who set up that Nigerian cover, but I think we’re on this guy’s trail. Unfortunately, this is a dead end without any way to research his life after his name change.”
“Let’s not be rushin’ to conclusions yet, Hellion,” Midnight said, sounding tired for him to call her that. “I ’ave more. Found a black and white o’ Leclair next to an eighteen-foot sailboat on blocks in a yard. Boat was in sorry shape but looked to be o’ more value than the house behind it.”
She bit her tongue to keep from interrupting because Midnight had a knack for finding stray crumbs leading to a whole loaf of bread. He was also methodical about it and needed the space to work through his thoughts.
She had to sit tight and give him some room to run.
“Usin’ that image, a search turned up a photo in ’is school newspaper of ’im standin’ on the boat. The caption saidSinking Treasure, clearly a dig at ’im. He didn’t look none too pleased. The paper didn’t identify ’im, but sure looks to be your bloke.”
“I’m with you, Midnight, but not sure how this helps.”
“Some knob painted the boat name. Hard to read. Looked to be a girl’s name. La Jolie Clare or La Julie Clark.” Couple taps followed. “I searched boat registration and records for anythin’ close. I found similar ones, but then I stubbed me toe on one calledLe Jolly Clerc. I enlarged the image and played with the resolution. I was dumbstruck. That name matched better than me first guesses.”
Her heart jumped. She could feel when Midnight was over the target. “Who is the boat registered to?”
“Woman named Angela Dougherty with a Cape Neddick, Maine address.”
The unenthusiastic way he’d said that had her rubbing her forehead where a headache kept building. “Is the boat atherhome?”
“No. The address belongs to a highly respectable law firm. The kind wot protects wealthy clients from pryin’ eyes.”
Wealthy?Nothing about this intel pointed to Leclair being wealthy. “If she owns the boat, that doesn’t help us find Leclair.”
“Patience, Hellie.”
The word patience was not in her active vocabulary right now. “Sorry. Go ahead, but can you give me the bullet points?”
He didn’t answer at first.
Midnight liked to show all the avenues he traveled to reach a conclusion. “Fine. ’Ere be the bottom line. I searched ever’where for a boat with that name. Hunted rented slips. I mean ever’where. None. Then I searched for an image with that boat name. I come upon a grand openin’ announcement from this year where someone rebuilt a marina in northern Maine. ’Tis in a cove settled by a pirate descendant, by the way.”
Not pirates.
She’d lose Midnight if he got sidetracked by his obsession. “Please tell me you found the boat.”
Midnight grumbled, “’Tis a good thing ya were my study partner in school, or I wouldn’t be so understandin’.”
As bad as she felt, she smiled. They’d been an odd couple with him five-foot-eight and her a head taller next to him. He’d been her friend more than a study partner. “Waiting on you to tell me what you’ve found is almost as exciting as us pulling a B in Latin.”
He cursed in an oddball language.
“That’s still not Latin,” she teased.
Ignoring her, he continued. “’Tis believed the pirate hid some of his treasure in that area, but no one has found it.”
“I don’t have time for a treasure hunt.”
“Yar bloody crabby when yar tired. Okay, Hellion, ’ere’s wot ya want. The cove be named after the pirate known as SauvilleLe Clerc. The small community is now called Clercville.”
