6 Rainier Drive

“Good for you.” Grinning, Rachel patted her on the shoulder. “Let me know what happens, okay?”



“I will,” Teri promised, practically running out the door to her car.



No sooner had Teri left than Bruce and Jolene arrived. Rachel was still waving Teri off when the nine-year-old dashed up the sidewalk toward her, hugging Rachel around the waist. Bruce followed at a much slower pace. “What time should I pick her up?” he asked.



“I’ll drop her off at home,” Rachel told him. He didn’t live far out of her way and it wasn’t as if she had other plans.



“I’ve got a better idea,” Bruce said. “Why don’t I meet you somewhere and the three of us can have dinner together?”



“Can we, Rachel?” Jolene asked, pigtails bouncing as she leaped up and down. “Can we? Can we?”



“That sounds like fun.”



Three hours later, Rachel and Jolene pulled into the parking lot at the Pancake Palace, where they’d agreed to meet for dinner. The food was cheap and plentiful, and this was Jolene’s favorite place in Cedar Cove to dine. She liked to dip her French fries in her cream-topped hot chocolate, a culinary activity that made Rachel wince.



Bruce was waiting for them in a booth near the front. The moment they walked in the door, he gestured to them. Jolene ran to his side as if it’d been weeks since she’d last seen her father. Rachel joined them a few seconds later.



“How’d it go?” Bruce asked, sliding over so his daughter could slip in beside him.



Rachel hid a smile when Jolene chose to sit beside her, instead.



“Daddy, we had so much fun. Shopping is great! We bought me a pink dress on sale, so we had money left over for tights and a purse.”



“Men don’t generally appreciate fifty-percent-off sales unless it involves hardware,” Rachel told the little girl. She reached for the menu and scanned it, deciding on a ham-and-cheese omelet.



The waitress came for their order and disappeared with quiet efficiency. Jolene chattered for a while, then selected a crayon from the juice glass filled with them and started to color the paper place mat, which had a connect-the-dots outline of a bunny.



Rachel and Bruce picked up the conversation. They always seemed to have plenty to talk about, although she saw Bruce infrequently. Over the years they’d become comfortable with each other. They’d shared a kiss now and then, but they had no romantic illusions. In any case, Bruce still loved his wife, and Rachel was seeing Nate. In fact, Bruce was someone she’d confided in when she’d first learned Nate’s father was a U.S. congressman.



“I didn’t think you ever had a free Saturday night,” Bruce said in an offhand way. “Don’t you and Nate usually go out?”



“I wish. The navy comes first, and he’s working on some hush-hush project that’s kept him tied up for a few weeks now.” She didn’t point out that although they did manage to talk every day, it was almost always late at night when they were both exhausted.



She and Bruce lingered over coffee, while Jolene had a second hot chocolate. It was after eight by the time Rachel returned home. She’d enjoyed dinner as much as she had the shopping—which had netted her two new sweaters. Afterward, they’d all gone down to the Cedar Cove waterfront for a walk and an ice-cream cone. She’d described her odd meeting with Teri, and Bruce had laughed.



“If anyone can get past security to see Bobby Polgar, it’ll be Teri,” Bruce said.



“You think so?”



“I know so.” Bruce nodded confidently. “She isn’t one to let a little thing like security guards or TV cameras stop her.”



Rachel suspected he was right. If anyone could talk her way into meeting the top-ranked American chess champion, it’d be Teri.



She’d just unlocked her front door when the phone rang. Running to answer it, she threw down her shopping bags. As she’d hoped, it was Nate.



He told her he was calling from the stag, and she could hear shouts and laughter in the background. He didn’t seem to be enjoying himself.



“Where were you?” he demanded, sounding tired and argumentative.



“I told you I took Jolene shopping.”



“Until after eight? You said you’d be back by six.”



“Yes, but…” But he hadn’t suggested anything after that, since he’d had his own plans. “We finished up around six and then met Bruce for dinner at the Pancake Palace.”



Nate went quiet for a long moment. “You didn’t say anything about you and Brucie having dinner,” he muttered sarcastically.



“Well, no,” she agreed, “that didn’t come up until later. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”



“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly, “I am. I haven’t seen you all week.”



“I know, and I’ve missed you like crazy. This dinner thing didn’t mean anything, Nate. You know that. It was Bruce’s way of thanking me for taking Jolene shopping.”



“Okay,” he said in a grudging voice.



“Dinner meant nothing, I promise you.”



“Okay,” he said again. “Look, I’ve got tomorrow afternoon free. Do you think you could squeeze me into your busy social calendar?”



“I’ll see what I can do.”



“Good.”



They arranged to meet at the waterfront, and after a protracted good-night, Rachel replaced the receiver. She took a long shower, then got into an old flannel nightgown and sat in front of the television, hoping the ten o’clock news would have a story on the chess tournament. She half expected to see an item about a disruption, with Teri being hauled away by armed guards.



As the news began, her mind wandered back to the dinner with Bruce. She felt that their relationship had subtly changed in the last few months. She wasn’t sure how it’d happened or what it meant. She hadn’t lied or misled Nate; dinner tonight wasn’t a romantic tryst. Far from it. Yet something seemed different. Rachel could only wonder why that was.



When the news anchor spoke about the chess championship, she mentioned only a few of the details—the most prominent being that after his stunning first-match defeat, Bobby Polgar had taken the second match and then the third, winning the championship.



Eight



After pacing the hallway outside the sheriff’s office, Seth Gunderson sat restlessly on a nearby bench. Apparently Troy Davis had some news about the fire. Even after nearly a month, Seth had trouble adjusting to the reality of his and Justine’s loss. It felt as if he were in the middle of Leif’s toy kaleidoscope, the pieces of his life tossed about willy-nilly, forming random patterns that made no sense to him.



Despite his best efforts, Seth discovered himself lashing out at those around him. He felt guilty about the way he’d behaved and was thankful for Justine’s patience, although they’d had a spat just that morning.



Her comment a couple of weeks earlier that she might not want to rebuild had come as a shock. In his opinion, she wasn’t thinking clearly. He refused to let some unknown arsonist make his decisions for him. And the more his wife tried to convince him to consider options other than rebuilding, the more he shut her out. One thing was certain: Seth couldn’t sit around the house like this much longer. He was going stir-crazy, with nothing to do but fret and fume. Since Justine’s announcement, he hadn’t even found any pleasure in considering new designs for the restaurant.



The office door opened, and Troy stepped into the hallway. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” the sheriff said, extending his hand.



Seth stood and the two exchanged handshakes. Troy gestured toward his office, then went back inside and sat at his desk. Seth took the chair across from him.



“I was on the phone with the fire marshal when you arrived,” Troy explained.



Anxious to hear the latest update, Seth leaned forward. “So what’s the news?”



Troy tipped his chair back and locked his fingers behind his head. “There’s one detail that might be significant, but I’ll get to that later. The inspector hired by the insurance company confirmed what we already knew—that the fire was purposely set. An accelerant was used, probably gasoline. It started near the kitchen, then spread to your office and quickly engulfed the main dining room.”



“Suspects?”



“As you know, I’ve interviewed the employees,” Troy told him, dropping his arms and picking up a folder on his desk. “Plus former employees,” he added.



Seth frowned. “Tony Philpott?”



Davis nodded slowly. “He’d recently been laid off, correct?”



Seth pressed his hands against the side of his chair. “I was forced to lay off both Tony and Anson Butler because of the money missing from my office. Both had access and opportunity. Between you and me, I think Tony was the one who took it, but I can’t be sure. We never found it, and I don’t have any proof. It was an unfortunate situation, and I probably didn’t handle it as well as I should have.”



Seth wished now that he’d dealt with the whole mess some other way. In retrospect he could understand Anson’s anger. Yet he did have a bad track record and despite the boy’s attempt to prove himself, Seth wasn’t entirely satisfied that he could trust him.



“Philpott was out of town at the time of the arson,” Troy said. “His alibi checks out.”



Seth released a sigh. He didn’t want to think Anson had anything to do with the fire, and yet what else was he to believe? The boy was already responsible for one arson in town, and The Lighthouse had gone up in flames right after he was laid off. All the pieces seemed to fall together, and for once the pattern made a horrible kind of sense.



“Have you ever seen this?” Troy surprised him by asking. “It’s what I was referring to earlier.” He held out a photograph of a large pewter cross, then passed it to Seth.



Seth studied the photo and shook his head. He couldn’t remember seeing it before, but that wasn’t saying much. He never paid much attention to jewelry.



“Where did you find it?” The cross looked partially melted, so it must have been either in the fire or close to it.



“The fire inspectors came across it in the rubble, near the office. It might mean nothing, but then again…” He shrugged. “At this point we just don’t know. I’ll keep you updated on anything we learn.”



Seth stood up. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”



On his way out of the office, Seth checked his watch. Ten. The entire day stretched before him, about as empty as a discarded beer bottle. This past month was the first time since he’d bought the old Captain’s Galley restaurant and remodeled it that he’d had nothing to do.



Before this, there weren’t enough hours in a day. His schedule was full; he’d constantly had meetings and plans and new ideas. His lack of purpose was killing him. Of course, he could go back home, but his relationship with Justine was strained. He loved his wife, but he didn’t understand her anymore. Right now, he needed breathing room, a place where he could collect his thoughts, try to figure out what came next.