Читать книгу Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 82

Twenty-Nine

Roy McAfee received the long-awaited phone call the second week of April, almost a month after Davis had sent the water bottle found in Maxwell Russell’s car to the county lab for testing. He asked Roy to stop by his office as soon as possible.

Within ten minutes of that call, Roy was headed out the front door of his office.

“Was that Sheriff Davis?” Corrie asked, glancing up from her desk as he breezed past his wife.

Roy nodded and reached for his coat. “Apparently the lab found something.” He’d known they would, and he felt vindicated. Now maybe they could get somewhere with this case.

“The sheriff isn’t exactly the most popular man in town at the moment,” Corrie said as she pointed to the latest edition of The Cedar Cove Chronicle.

Roy tried unsuccessfully to disguise a smile. The front page of The Chronicle had shown a photograph of a disgruntled Sheriff Davis and two deputies handcuffing a group of senior citizens. Roy would say one thing—this small and lively band of retirees had certainly gotten their message out.

“I can’t help feeling sorry for Davis,” Roy murmured.

“Of course your sympathies would lie with the lawman, but as far as I’m concerned, Mrs. Jefferson and her friends have a good point.”

“There are other ways of getting the city to provide a health clinic without violating the law.”

Roy should know better than to argue with Corrie; as usual, she had an immediate comeback. “The article said Mrs. Jefferson and Mr. Rhodes have done everything by the book and didn’t get anywhere because of the budget cuts. You and I both know what it’s like to ram our heads against City Hall.”

“Sheriff Davis was only doing his job.” Frankly, Roy wouldn’t have wanted to be the one responsible for escorting a group of old people to jail. From what he’d heard, it had been a madhouse, with several of the ladies demanding lawyers and going on about their constitutional rights. Apparently they’d viewed too many Law & Order reruns.

“I should’ve known you’d side with your friend,” Corrie said. “How would you feel, though, if that had been your mother or mine?”

He chuckled. “My mother’s been gone for a lot of years and as for yours—”

“Don’t even start, Roy McAfee,” she muttered.

But Roy saw that Corrie was trying not to laugh. On impulse, he walked around her desk and soundly kissed her.

Corrie looked up at him. “What was that for?”

“You’re nothing like your mother.”

“Roy!”

“Sweetheart,” he said, pleading innocence. “I love you.”

Laughing softly, she steered him toward the door.

Roy decided to walk the fifteen minutes to the sheriff’s office. His gut told him they were close to uncovering Russell’s secrets.

Troy Davis appeared to be waiting for him. He gestured to the chair and then shoved a file at him before Roy even had a chance to sit down.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The toxicology report.”

Roy reached for it and flipped it open. He scanned the first three pages before his eyes landed on flunitrazepam. He raised his eyes to the sheriff’s. “That drug—what is it?”

“Brand name is Rohypnol.”

That was a name Roy recognized. The date-rape drug, as it was commonly called. He’d seen the effects of it during his years on the force. It’d been referred to as “roofies” when it first hit the streets in the early nineties.

Very clever choice, Roy mused as he read over the report. Not the type of drug anyone would typically use to kill a man over fifty. “No wonder it took the lab a month to find it,” he murmured, thinking aloud.

“Whoever killed him dissolved it in the bottled water. It’s tasteless and odorless—and it’s a potent tranquilizer. When it’s given in large doses, the obvious happens.”

Roy knew that, too. A large enough dose would have lethal consequences.

Roy set the file on the sheriff’s desk. “All that confirms is what we’ve both suspected. Russell was murdered.” Unfortunately, the toxicology report didn’t reveal who’d poisoned him or why.

The sheriff relaxed in his chair and steepled his fingers as he rested his hands against his abdomen. He looked directly at Roy. “It could’ve been Beldon. He had opportunity.”

Years of police work and intuition said otherwise. At one point, Roy had had his suspicions. There’d still been a lot of missing facts, and he hadn’t wanted to cloud the issue with emotion. That was the reason he’d felt he couldn’t be Beldon’s friend. In the time since, Roy had come to like and trust the other man.

Bob claimed not to recognize his old army friend, which left motive in question. But even if he had recognized him, that wasn’t cause enough to murder him, in Roy’s opinion. “Frankly, I doubt it.”

Sheriff Davis gave him a hint of a smile. “I don’t see it falling that way myself.”

“Don’t forget, the bottle was in the car.”

“Right.”

That didn’t automatically clear Beldon, but it suggested Russell had brought the water with him.

“Do you think it could’ve been a random killing?” Roy asked. There seemed to be more of them these days.

He could tell that Davis had considered the same idea. “Perhaps, but I think it’s unlikely.”

Roy nodded. Too many factors in this case, including the method used, led him to believe the murder hadn’t been a random anything. Whoever they were dealing with was smart. And vicious.

“I don’t think this was the first attempt on Russell’s life, either,” Roy murmured.

“My thoughts exactly,” the sheriff said. He straightened, leaning toward his desk. “The car accident that killed his wife sounds mighty convenient to me. I read the report, but there’s nothing I can put my finger on. No real evidence.”

The crash had been attributed to driver error. In light of recent events, he wondered. Two of the men who’d been together in the jungle that day were dead and both had died under peculiar circumstances.

“What about Dan Sherman?” Roy asked. “Are you convinced it was suicide?”

The sheriff didn’t hesitate. “No doubt. He left that letter, too.”

Roy didn’t like the route his mind was taking him. Two men were dead, one of them murdered. If Bob wasn’t involved—and both Troy Davis and Roy were sure he wasn’t—then that led Roy to one conclusion.

“Bob Beldon’s in danger,” he said.

Davis sat back. “Funny you should say that.”

“Why?”

“I had the same feeling myself. I went out to talk to him yesterday afternoon.”

A chill went up Roy’s spine.

“I suggested he might want to take an extended vacation while we check this theory out,” the sheriff continued.

“What did he say?”

Troy Davis frowned. “He’s a stubborn man. Bob said he’d done all the running he intended to do. Said anyone who wants to kill him is welcome to try.”

Roy guessed Peggy hadn’t been around for that conversation.

Troy shook his head. “Not only that, he says he can’t leave. Jack Griffin asked Bob to be his best man, and Bob intends to do it.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“First week of May.”

Roy mulled that over and nodded. “It’s been over a year since Russell died,” he said. “If nothing’s happened in all this time, then perhaps nothing will.”

“Perhaps,” Troy Davis returned.

But his tone of voice convinced Roy the sheriff didn’t believe it. For that matter, neither did he.

Over the last few months, he’d come to like Bob and Peggy. He’d consider it a personal affront if his friend turned up dead.

* * *

Rosie waited anxiously until she heard the rat-a-tat-tat on the apartment door. Leaping up from the sofa, she hurried to answer it. She was halfway across the living room when the door opened and Zach stepped inside.

As if it’d been weeks since she’d last seen him, Rosie flew into his embrace. Zach wrapped his arms around her waist, half lifting her from the floor. Not a second passed before his mouth found hers. Their kisses were deep and urgent, reminiscent of their college days. The spark that had been missing during the last few years of their marriage was back—and bright enough to start a fire.

When Zach set her feet on the carpet again, Rosie’s head was spinning with desire. Forgotten was her intent to discuss so many of the pressing issues that clamored for attention. Instead, all she could think about was the warmth of his touch and the need he created within her.

“Don’t you think meeting like this is a little ridiculous?” she murmured.

“Do you?”

“No.” She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him.

Zach kissed her back and all too soon they were in the bedroom—his bedroom. Two days earlier, they’d ended up in hers, and the time before that they hadn’t even made it to a bed.

“We’re supposed to talk,” Rosie reminded him in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Her head rested against his naked shoulder. They were sprawled on top of the bedcovers, with her arm draped across his waist.

“I know, but when I see you the last thing I feel like doing is talking.”

Rosie understood perfectly. She was as hungry for Zach as he was for her.

“Did you tell the kids where you were going?” she asked, a little embarrassed that their children might have guessed they’d turned the apartment into a love nest. Even the old-fashioned term made her wince.

Zach chuckled. “You’re joking, right?”

Rosie sighed and rubbed her cheek against his chest, loving the warm feel of his skin. Closing her eyes, she inhaled Zach’s scent—distinctively his and almost enough to arouse her all over again. “I think it’s important that we talk, though.”

“I do, too,” Zach agreed, “but unfortunately I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

Rosie had to admit she liked this resurgence of their love life—liked it a lot. As for wasting their precious time at the apartment in bed, well, she didn’t have any complaints.

“The kids aren’t blind, you know,” Zach said as his hand made slow, lazy circles on the small of her back. “They have a fairly good idea who I’m sneaking out to see.”

“Allison said as much,” Rosie told him.

“Okay, so the kids are in favor of our reconciliation,” Zach said, sounding serious, “but are we?”

“How do you mean?”

“Are we ready to get back together? Should we? I love you, Rosie, and you love me. I’ve always loved you, but even now I don’t understand how two people who genuinely love each other could let themselves get divorced.”

Rosie nodded. “I made a lot of mistakes,” she said soberly.

“So did I,” Zach was quick to admit. “I don’t want to rehash everything we did wrong, but on the other hand, I’m not willing to ignore what happened and then repeat our mistakes.”

“I feel the same way.” The thought of going through that terrible tension again was intolerable. She couldn’t live like that, and she knew Zach couldn’t, either. Nor could they inflict this nightmare on their children a second time.

“I’d like to continue teaching,” Rosie said. Her contribution to their problems had to do with the fact that she’d volunteered for absolutely every committee, group, field day and task force that came up. She’d developed a reputation as the consummate volunteer, the woman who couldn’t say no.

Before the divorce, she had commitments and obligations that took her away from the house most days and every night of the week. It had started when Zach was so busy preparing tax returns. She was lonely and looking for a social outlet, a way to be part of the community. Her volunteering had grown into a time-consuming monster that had threatened to destroy her and her family.

“I always wanted to be the perfect wife and mother,” she whispered, saddened by the memory of her failings.

Zach kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

“Then I got so caught up in everything, I wasn’t any kind of mother at all.”

“Hey, I’m not going to listen to you beat yourself up,” Zach said. “Especially when I was doing plenty wrong myself.”

His hold on her tightened slightly. “You didn’t wreck our marriage single-handedly, Rosie. I let my ego replace common sense. You were right about Janice Lamond, but I was too blind to see what she was doing.”

“I was so jealous,” Rosie confessed.

“So was I, especially when you started dating that widower.”

She didn’t know Zach had been jealous. The warm glow it gave her was childish, but she basked in the feeling, anyway. “Like I told you, we only went out that once.”

“I thought it was much more, and it confused the hell out of me.” He laughed softly and continued to stroke her back. “We were supposed to be divorced, and yet the thought of you going out with another man had me seeing red.”

Rosie loved it. “Well, you can imagine how I felt when we were married and I thought you were involved with another woman. Jealous doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

“It’s not going to happen again,” he promised her.

“I won’t get caught up in volunteering again, either,” she said. “Maybe the occasional short-term thing, but that’s it. I know how to set boundaries now.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve also discovered that I like teaching—I’d forgotten how much. The hours are great with the kids’ schedules, and when I return at the end of the day, I appreciate my home and family.”

“I’ll help around the house more,” he vowed.

“Good.” That had been another of their problems. Because she was supposed to be a stay-at-home mother, Zach—and the children, too—had come to rely on her to do everything, to fulfill every need, to be the perfect housekeeper, cook, fixer, scheduler, chauffeur and hostess. To be responsible for everything on the domestic front, in other words.

“I can make dinner two nights a week,” Zach told her. “I’ve learned a lot from the cooking channel.”

“I can handle getting dinner ready another three,” she said. Now that Rosie had more time, she’d found out she actually enjoyed cooking.

“Allison’s learned a thing or two about helping out in the kitchen,” Zach said. “I think she’d like being in charge of one dinner a week.”

“That leaves us with only one night open,” she said, thinking that perhaps they could trade off on it.

“One night a week for you and me to go on a date,” Zach said firmly.

“A date?”

“Time for us to be together, Rosie. Just you and me. Do you realize we lived in the same house and barely spoke? We talked, but we were both too busy and too distracted to really listen to each other. You’re my best friend, and I’ve missed you and missed having you in my life. I believe that not spending time with each other is what got us into trouble.”

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps that was one of the reasons their marriage had fallen apart. With Zach spending long hours at the office and her filling every spare minute with charity projects and volunteer positions, they’d lost their focus. They’d forgotten about each other; everything else had come first.

Raising herself onto one elbow, she kissed his jaw. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“You have,” Zach whispered. “Oh, Rosie, Rosie, it feels so good to have you in my arms again.”

“The kids want us to remarry,” she said.

Until then, neither Zach nor Rosie had said it aloud.

“I know.” She heard the hesitation in his voice. “How do you feel about it?”

Rosie nestled closer to him. “Excited…and a little afraid.”

“Me, too,” he said quietly.

They’d both said and done things that burdened the future. Could they maintain this new resolve, continue to nurture their relationship and each other?

“We need to be very sure, Zach.”

“I agree. When we do remarry, and I believe we will,” he said, kissing her again, “it has to be forever, with one hundred percent total commitment from each of us.” Zach met her eyes, a look of intensity in his. “We’ve opened that door marked Divorce and walked through it once.”

She nodded.

“It could easily become a swinging door. With every argument, every disagreement, we can decide we made an even bigger mistake by remarrying. We can turn what seems so right and good now into a living nightmare.”

Rosie understood what he was saying. “In other words, if we decide to remarry, that’s it. There’s no going back again. Ever.”

“It’s all or nothing,” he said fervently.

Rosie didn’t hesitate. She knew what she wanted and that was this man, her husband and lover, back in her life forever. “All or nothing,” she repeated. “I want it all.”

“Then, will you marry me, Rosie? In sickness and in health, till death do us part?”

“I will,” she whispered. “What are we going to tell people?” she asked after a pause.

Zach chuckled. “We’ll tell them the truth.”

“Which is?”

“The divorce just didn’t work out.”

“You’re a beautiful bride.” Grace wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Olivia turned away from the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She wore a new peach-colored suit, tailored and elegant, and carried a bouquet of pink rosebuds.

Grace sat on the bed studying her. James and Justine would arrive soon and together they’d escort her to the waterfront park where Jack, his family and Charlotte waited.

“Will Jack think so?” Olivia asked, knowing how insecure she sounded. After all these years of living as a single woman, she’d never expected to fall in love again, in love to the point that she was willing to share her home and her life with another man. Until Jack Griffin had come along…

“I think it’s so touching that Jack asked Pastor Flemming to perform the ceremony,” Grace said, digging for a tissue in the bottom of her purse. “I just know I’m going to ruin everything and cry through the entire thing.”

“You won’t,” Olivia assured her, although she wasn’t nearly as confident about herself. Every time she thought of Jack and how much she loved him, she felt like weeping with joy.

“Oh, Mom!” Justine said, dashing into the bedroom. She brought her hands together in a gesture of reverence. “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

Olivia blushed, then kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Are you ready?” Justine asked. “The limo’s arrived.”

Olivia looked at Grace, and her best friend threw her a bright smile and a thumb’s-up. Exhaling unsteadily, Olivia whispered, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“James was over at Jack’s place, and he’s a nervous wreck,” Justine informed her as they walked out to the car.

“Jack?” A few hours earlier, he’d sounded completely under control.

“Eric, Shelly and the boys got here,” Justine went on to explain, “and pandemonium broke out. One of the babies spit up on Jack’s tuxedo. Eric came unglued, but then Shelly calmly cleaned it off.”

“So everything’s right with the world once more,” Olivia murmured. It’d been crazy at her house, too. Seth had picked up James, Selina and Isabella at the Seattle airport, and within an hour of their arrival, Selina had announced she was pregnant again. That was when the celebrating had begun.

“Your coach awaits you,” Justine said with a little bow as they reached the sidewalk.

And she did feel a bit like Cinderella going to the ball. Today marked one of the most significant changes in her life. It was only a matter of weeks since she and Jack had made the decision to marry, but neither was content to delay the wedding. They wanted to be together.

The liveried driver stood outside the limousine, ready to help everyone inside.

“I hope to do something like this for Maryellen and Jon,” Grace said as she stepped into the car with Olivia.

“Have they set the date yet?”

Grace nodded. “The first Saturday in June.”

“Wonderful,” Olivia said. Weddings seemed to be in the air. Grace’s daughter and Jon Bowman had decided to marry; Olivia knew Grace was both delighted and relieved that Katie’s mother and father would soon be united.

“Another Saturday you’ll have to give up your stint at the Humane Society,” Olivia teased, knowing how much Grace enjoyed her volunteer work with the agency.

Jon and Maryellen’s engagement wasn’t the only news of a wedding that had reached Olivia. The controversial divorce decree she’d made last year, which had caused such a stir at the courthouse, had turned out rather well. She’d heard from Otto Benson, one of the attorneys involved in the case, that the Coxes were planning to remarry. Olivia was pleased, and wished the couple well. Everything at 311 Pelican Court seemed to be in good shape—a refreshing change.

As the limousine made its way down Lighthouse Road, Olivia looked out the side window at the cove. She loved this beautiful place, this town that was home. She glanced at Grace and smiled. Her friend was adjusting to life as a widow. Maneuvering in unfamiliar territory was never easy; Grace was bound to take a few wrong steps, but Olivia felt confident that all was well at 204 Rosewood Lane, especially now that Grace had found a cause to support. Olivia still hoped Cliff would reappear in Grace’s life, but only time would tell.

The limo pulled into the parking lot at the waterfront park. The driver rushed around and opened the door for Olivia, then offered her his hand, helping her out.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect day for a wedding. A day of bright sun and fresh spring breezes. The sparkling blue water of the cove sent shafts of reflected sunlight toward the gazebo where Jack stood waiting. Roses, lilies, irises and a dozen other flowers filled huge white baskets, carefully arranged to create a border around the white-painted gazebo.

Her mother was with her friend Ben Rhodes. Ever since her arrest, Charlotte had been unusually quiet. Olivia was convinced this newfound respect for the law would be short-lived, however. When Charlotte wanted something badly enough, she generally found a way to get it.

Olivia blamed Ben Rhodes for the fact that she’d had to bail her own mother out of the county jail. She was determined to keep a careful eye on him. Olivia wasn’t sure the elderly gentleman was a good influence on her mother. Nor did she think it was such a good idea for the two of them to be spending so much time together. She intended to learn what she could about Ben Rhodes.

Jack stepped forward and took Olivia’s hand. “I don’t know what I ever did that persuaded you to marry me,” he said as he bent close to kiss her cheek, “but whatever it was, I can only say I’m grateful.”

“Oh, Jack, that’s so sweet.”

He grinned and glanced sheepishly at his best man, Bob Beldon. “Bob suggested I say that.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. She should have known. Jack was no romantic, but he made up for his lack of finesse in a dozen wonderful ways. She was pleased to see Bob and his wife, Peggy. She didn’t know them well, but since Bob was Jack’s best friend, she assumed they’d be seeing more of the couple who owned the local B and B.

There’d been some concern about Bob, she remembered, something to do with that dead guy. Jack had been rather vague about it, and for a time he’d seemed uncertain whether his friend would be available for the ceremony. Apparently whatever it was had been resolved, although from the barely restrained tension she felt in the other man, Olivia wondered. Things didn’t seem to be quite as they should at 44 Cranberry Point.

The guests gathered in a close circle around Olivia and Jack. Pastor Flemming opened his Bible and smiled up at the two of them.

“Dearly beloved,” he began.

Jack squeezed Olivia’s hand, and she returned the gesture. Jack Griffin, newsman and recovering alcoholic, was indeed her beloved, and she was his. Like so many before him, Jack had found new life and purpose in Cedar Cove. She smiled up at this man who would soon be her husband. They were the keepers of each other’s secrets…and of each other’s heart.