Pelican Court (Cedar Cove #3)(108)

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.