“No! Give the phone number to me and I’ll take care of it.” When he saw the worry in her eyes, Troy wondered if he’d frightened her. “Will you do that?”
The stubborn look was back.
“If not for your own peace of mind, then for mine.”
“All right, if you insist,” she said with a resigned shrug.
“Ido.”
Once again she glanced at the door.
Troy started in that direction. “Have a good evening, Faith,” he said, touching the brim of his hat in farewell.
“You, too.”
She followed him to the front door and watched him walk away. Troy felt her eyes on his back and wondered if she had as many regrets as he did. He wondered if she missed him half as much as he missed her.
By the time he got back to his house on Pacific Boulevard, it was pitch-dark. Troy let himself in and, without thinking, picked up the television remote control. He didn’t actually watch many programs. Mostly he appreciated the noise.
The local Seattle news flashed across the screen as Troy hung up his coat. He was about to close the closet door when he saw a reporter with a microphone in a setting that was far too familiar.
Troy stared. It was the area outside the cave where the skeletal remains had been discovered.
“This is Jean Everson with a story that’s more suited to Halloween than January,” the young woman said, her voice low and intense. “I’m here in Cedar Cove to report that the unidentified remains of a young man have been found in this cave directly behind me. A youth. No one in Cedar Cove is talking. No one appears to know who this young man might be. The autopsy report indicates that he was sealed inside this cave for approximately thirty years. However, local law enforcement has apparently made no progress in resolving this tragic case.”
All Troy could hope was that Louie Benson hadn’t seen this news item. The woman’s voice droned on in the distance, and she finally ended with something about “…this sleepy town, where dark secrets might be buried along with those unidentified remains. This is Channel 7 Eyewitness News. Jean Everson reporting from Cedar Cove, Washington.”
After a day like the one he’d had, this wasn’t what Troy wanted to see on his TV.
No more than a minute later his phone rang. He didn’t need to check caller ID to figure out who it was. Louie Benson wanted to talk to him for the second time that day.
Nine
All week, Mack McAfee had been looking forward to seeing Mary Jo Wyse and her infant daughter. He’d delivered the baby on Christmas Eve at the Hardings’ ranch. Appropriately enough, Mary Jo had named her Noelle.
It had been Mack’s first delivery, the only time he’d ever witnessed, let alone participated in, a birth. Being with Mary Jo, being the very first person to hold Noelle, had been one of the most emotional experiences of his life. Later on Christmas Day, when he’d gone to visit his parents, he hadn’t been able to stop talking about it. He’d never felt anything like this before—this exhilaration, this sense of joy, of significance. Everything else he’d ever done paled in comparison. He’d been overwhelmed by the power of that moment.
Mack was a firefighter with EMT training. He’d worked at a number of jobs and trades through the years, but being part of the Cedar Cove fire department suited him best. He felt it was where he belonged, the kind of work he was meant to do.
He turned down the radio as he crossed the Narrows Bridge in Tacoma on the drive to Seattle. His thoughts were hectic and disorganized; he needed to settle down before seeing Mary Jo again. Noelle was two days shy of being a month old. A lot could have changed since his visit a couple of weeks earlier.
When they’d last spoken, Mary Jo had sounded pleased to hear from him, but she had bad news. The insurance company where she’d worked had downsized and she’d been given a severance package. The future felt uncertain and he could tell she was trying hard to be optimistic. Wanting to encourage her, Mack had phoned twice since his previous visit, and their conversations, although short, had gone well. Still, he wished there was some way he could help her. Frankly he couldn’t think of anything. She wouldn’t accept financial assistance from him; she didn’t even like taking it from her brothers.
He knew she’d rather not live with them but there really weren’t many options, especially now that she was unemployed. She tried to minimize her growing frustration, but Mack sensed how she felt.
Having lived in the Seattle area for most of his life, he had no problem navigating the route to Mary Jo’s address. As he’d already discovered, it was a nice house in a pleasant neighborhood. He knew she’d been raised in this very home, the youngest of four children. Her brothers considered themselves her guardians and had done so ever since their parents had died in an automobile accident.
Holding the huge teddy bear he’d bought, Mack walked up the pathway that led to the house. He stared at the front door for a long moment, his heart pounding, before he pressed the bell.
Mary Jo answered almost right away. She carried Noelle, supporting the baby against her shoulder. The baby cried, a steady, plaintive whimpering, her tiny head wobbling.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she returned, smiling up at him.
Mary Jo looked…dreadful. No other word for it. She was dressed and her hair was brushed, but her makeup didn’t disguise her paleness or the circles that darkened her eyes. Those tired eyes did light up when she saw him, though.
She moved aside so Mack could step into the house, which he noted was tidy. A white bassinet was set up in the living room close to the sofa, and there was a stack of disposable diapers on the coffee table.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I planned to have Noelle bathed and ready to receive company…but she had a bad morning.” She patted Noelle’s back. “And consequently, so have I.”
“No need to apologize,” Mack told her.