92 Pacific Boulevard

“No!” He said the word aloud. Megan was right; he had to talk to Faith, convince her that leaving Cedar Cove would be wrong. He didn’t know if he’d be able to talk her out of this—or if he even had the right to try. The thing was, he couldn’t idly stand by because Faith meant too much to him. She belonged here.



He reached for the phone just as his chili was done. Ignoring it, he punched out her number. The phone rang four times before the answering machine informed him that no one was home. Rather than leave a message, he hung up.



More depressed than ever, Troy paced the kitchen, gulping down spoonfuls of chili as he considered his options.



Perhaps it was just as well that he hadn’t spoken to Faith, he told himself. If she felt she had to escape Cedar Cove, then maybe he should simply let her go.



That conviction stayed with him for five whole days—until late Wednesday afternoon. On his drive home, Troy saw Faith’s car in the Safeway parking lot. He needed bread, anyway, he reasoned, and pulled into a space as far from hers as he could find. He didn’t want Faith to assume he was seeking her out—although, in truth, he was.



The weather, overcast and gloomy, matched his mood. Ever since Megan’s phone call, his appetite had vanished and he wasn’t sleeping well. Although he longed to talk to Faith, he realized he couldn’t ask her to remain in Cedar Cove, and yet…he had to. If she left, he’d always regret it.



After their last meeting, he’d felt hopeful that at some point they’d be able to put their differences behind them. He didn’t know anymore. Although he’d developed good instincts about people and situations in his years of police work, he couldn’t read Faith or understand her feelings.



Two weeks ago, when she’d called him about the intruder outside her bedroom window, reconciliation had actually seemed possible. He’d been depressed after seeing her with Will Jefferson, but that night he’d let her know how much he loved and needed her. He hadn’t used those precise words but he couldn’t have made his feelings any more obvious.



The way he figured it, the next move was hers. He hadn’t pressured her, assuming his patience would eventually be rewarded. Apparently he’d been wrong.



By the time Troy had walked across the Safeway parking lot and grabbed a cart, his coat was damp. Once inside, he did a wide sweep of the perimeter, hurrying past the deli, the fresh fruits and vegetables and then the frozen-food section. Finally he spotted Faith halfway down one of the center aisles. She appeared to be reading the back of a box of pasta.



Attempting to look casual, he entered that aisle and slowed down as he drew close. Faith glanced up and her eyes widened when she saw him.



“Hello, Troy.”



He inclined his head in acknowledgment and maneuvered his empty cart next to hers. He wished he’d had the foresight to toss in a few items to give her the impression that he’d been in the store a while.



“Faith,” he murmured.



They stared at each other a long moment, and Troy decided to wait her out, let her speak first. Silence was a common investigative technique; most people felt uncomfortable with a gap in the conversation and rushed to fill it. They often revealed more than they intended.



“How are you?” she asked awkwardly after half a minute of silence.



When he was speaking to a suspect, Troy generally answered a question with one of his own. He did that now. “Did you have that security system installed like I suggested?”



“I did and it was worth every penny,” she told him. “It’s given me peace of mind.”



He reached for a bag of spaghetti noodles and dropped it into his cart, as if that was the sole reason he’d come grocery shopping. Her reaction to his next question would tell him everything he needed to know.



“When’s moving day?”



She blanched. “Oh, so Megan told you.”



“Wasn’t that what you wanted?”



Frowning, she looked down at her cart as though she’d forgotten something on her list and couldn’t remember what it might be.



“Wasn’t it?” he repeated, unwilling to let her sidestep the question.



Her shoulders sagged. “I suppose I did,” she mumbled.



“You couldn’t have phoned me yourself?”



“I…1…” She shifted her weight and stared down at the floor; he could tell his questions unsettled her. “Every time I see you lately, you’re angry.” She looked up and met his gaze.



“I’m not angry,” he said. “You’re welcome to live wherever you wish. If you want to move away from Cedar Cove, then be my guest.” He snapped his mouth shut before he could say another word.



Faith’s head flew back. Her eyes narrowed and he could see the anger welling up inside her. Biting her lip, she placed both hands on her cart and began to walk away.



He started after her, shoving his cart ahead of him. “Faith! Hold on a minute.”



She disregarded him, rounding the corner with long strides. He was catching up, feeling like a participant in a stock-car race, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.



“Sheriff Davis!”



Troy reluctantly came to a halt, and glanced over his shoulder to find Louie Benson wheeling his grocery cart toward him. Not now, Troy thought. But he was trapped. Much as he wanted to hurry after Faith, he dared not ignore the mayor.



“I’m glad I caught you,” Louie said.



Troy offered him a weak smile. “What can I do for you?”



“I read the coroner’s final report but haven’t had a chance to discuss the details with you. I assume you’ve read it?”



“I did,” Troy replied crisply, trying to defer this. He wanted to apologize to Faith, make amends if it wasn’t already too late.



The mayor hesitated. “Did you see the statement that, judging by the skull, the young man had Down syndrome?”



“I did.”



“This opens up an entirely new front in your investigation, doesn’t it?”



“I—”



“I just hope the media doesn’t pick up on it,” he murmured.



“So do I,” Troy said. He was off duty and wanted out of this conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to talk to.”



“Of course. Sorry if I interrupted you.”



“It’s okay,” Troy said, rushing down the aisle, abandoning his cart. If he was lucky, he might still be able to catch up with Faith and apologize.



Luck was with him, and he saw her at the checkout stand. He waited outside until she’d finished paying for her groceries.



As soon as she stepped through the doors into the gloomy afternoon, he approached her. “I’d like to apologize, Faith.”



“What for?” she asked, moving past him.



Troy had seen that expression before and knew it wasn’t a good sign.



“I came at you like…like an angry bear.”



“Not at all,” she countered, walking purposefully toward the parking lot.



Troy followed her.



“You were right,” she said. “I was foolish to mention my plans to Megan. It was the coward’s way out and I was immediately sorry I’d done it.” Her pace clipped, she headed for her vehicle.



“You wanted me to know.” She’d admitted to using Megan to inform him of her plans. He couldn’t help feeling encouraged by that.



Perhaps Faith had done this, spoken to Megan, because she secretly—or not so secretly—hoped he’d talk her out of it. Maybe this was her way of telling him she’d prefer not to leave, that she wanted him back in her life. Instead, Troy had gone on the attack. He felt like kicking himself for being so insensitive.



“Like I said, it was wrong of me to tell Megan, knowing she’d pass the word along,” Faith said stiffly. “You see, I didn’t want to phone you directly, because I was trying to avoid unnecessary contact. The less we see of each other, the better. I’m sure you agree.”



Troy’s jaw tightened.



Faith opened the car door and shoved her shopping bags inside.



Not giving him a chance to respond, she climbed into the front seat and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life and she pulled out of her parking space before Troy could say another word.



Well, that was that.



His prospects with Faith couldn’t look any worse.



Sixteen



With property values lower than he’d ever seen them, Mack McAfee figured there was no better time to purchase a house. He’d been looking on and off for an investment ever since he’d moved to Cedar Cove. When the real estate agent had shown him the duplex on Evergreen Place, he’d made his decision.



A few years earlier, Mack had bought a home in north Seattle that was badly in need of repair. He’d managed to get it cheap and spent most weekends putting on a new roof, replacing the kitchen countertops, installing new carpeting and doing whatever else was needed to update the house. He’d put a lot of effort into the improvements, most of which he’d done himself. Over the years he’d picked up various skills doing odd jobs. When he’d finished the house, right down to the landscaping, he’d planned to move in, but someone had driven past one afternoon, stopped and made him an offer on the spot. A healthy six-figure profit had been sitting in the bank ever since, collecting interest.



The duplex was the perfect house to invest that money in. It was an older place, one story, with two doors on either side of a shared walkway. The building was in decent shape, but there was room for improvement. With a substantial down payment, he could live in one half and rent out the other. He put in an offer, which was accepted the next day. He’d just signed the papers and was driving home when his cell phone jingled, indicating that he had a text message.



He waited until he’d pulled into the apartment parking lot before checking his cell. When he saw Mary Jo’s name on call display, he reacted immediately, his heart speeding up with excitement. They communicated quite a bit, usually by texting. She sent him regular updates on baby Noelle, often including photographs. He was careful not to overdo it with Mary Jo, since she was still emotionally fragile after her experience with David Rhodes. He’d been tempted to send her flowers for Valentine’s Day, but felt that was too much, too soon. Mack was willing to bide his time. He knew he wanted to pursue a relationship with Mary Jo; meanwhile, he enjoyed their “conversations” and occasional visits.



Today it wasn’t a picture of Noelle that she’d sent. Instead, it was a request. Can U meet me this afternoon?



He typed his response, eager to see her and the baby. Tell me when & where. Fortuitously this was one of his days off. He pushed the send button and sat in his truck, awaiting her response. It wasn’t long in coming.



I’ll take Bremerton ferry. Gets in 2:30.



I’ll pick U up. He punched out the letters as fast as his fingers could type.



It was now quarter after one. Mack bolted down a sandwich, then showered and changed his clothes. He’d started cleaning the apartment but caught sight of the time and rushed out the door.



When the Bremerton ferry slid into the dock, Mack was standing outside the terminal. The walk-on passengers disembarked first, and he saw Mary Jo with the baby almost right away. She smiled and waved, and he returned the gesture.