Pelican Court (Cedar Cove #3)(78)

Cecilia smiled. “I know. Teenagers have their own way of expressing things, don’t they?”

“That they do.” It was important Rosie leave before her daughter arrived for work. She got up, ready to head back to the front office, when Mary Lou approached her.

“Mr. Cox said he’d like to see you,” she said, sounding apologetic as she stepped aside and allowed Rosie to pass.

Zach’s door was open. When Rosie walked into his office, she immediately noticed that the family photograph was no longer on the credenza, but he’d displayed one of Allison and Eddie. He stood when she entered, frowning darkly. Without a word, he moved from behind his desk and shut the door, a little harder than he needed to.

Ah, so that was how it was going to be. Rosie tried not to let him intimidate her, but that was difficult.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

She didn’t understand his anger and suppressed the urge to respond in kind. “I came to talk to Cecilia. I wanted to thank her—”

“That’s a convenient excuse and we both know it.” He was back on the other side of his desk, his expression furious.

“Excuse for what?” she asked, equally angry.

“Finding out about Janice.”

Now she understood. Zach didn’t want her to know that his “girlfriend” had left the company. From the little Allison had said, she knew Janice’s departure hadn’t been amicable.

“My visit had nothing to do with Janice and everything to do with our daughter,” Rosie insisted.

“So you say.”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I’m sorry if my being here is an embarrassment. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Eager to escape, she turned to leave.

Zach crossed his arms over his chest and slowly exhaled. “Did you learn what you wanted to know?” he asked.

Rosie turned back from the door. “What I wanted to know?” she repeated. Then she realized her ex-husband was worried that she’d find out what great pains he’d taken to hide the truth from her all these weeks. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

Zach’s jaw went white. “What happened between Janice and me—”

“I learned that Cecilia Randall is a warm, generous woman who has been a wonderful friend to our daughter,” she said, interrupting him. “And I also learned that my exhusband can be a real jerk.” She offered him a quavering smile, which under the circumstances was the best she could do. “No surprise there, however.”

She walked out the door.

Twenty-One

Bob Beldon was puttering around in his wood shop in the garage, cleaning tools and putting them away, when he noticed the sheriff’s vehicle in the distance. The green car was making its way along Cranberry Point; Bob wondered if Sheriff Davis was headed in his direction and what it meant if he was.

It’d been a year since the John Doe had checked into Thyme and Tide and promptly gone to meet his Maker. So much of that night remained a blur in Bob’s mind. Of one thing he was sure: the man, whoever he was, had evoked the recurring nightmare. As the years passed, the dream had come less and less frequently. But it had returned that night. When he woke, he’d had the same sensation he always felt following the nightmare. He’d been badly shaken; discovering their guest dead in the downstairs bedroom had heightened his anxiety beyond anything he’d experienced in years.

Considering the number of times Sheriff Davis had stopped by since that fateful morning, Bob couldn’t help feeling he was somehow a suspect. It was Davis’s last visit that had led him to contact Roy McAfee. He’d half expected an arrest warrant. He needed to talk to someone he trusted, someone who could help him, so—at Pastor Flemming’s suggestion—he’d gone to Roy.

Retelling the story of that day in a Vietnam jungle hadn’t been easy. Peggy was the only one he’d ever told. Bob didn’t know what would’ve happened to him if not for his wife, who’d held him and wept with him as he relived those terrible memories. Since then—until now—they’d never spoken of the incident again.

He peered out at the road again. Sure enough, the sheriff’s car drove through the wrought-iron gate that marked the driveway to Thyme and Tide. He recognized Troy Davis at the wheel. Bob reached in his rear pocket for a clean rag and wiped his hands free of sawdust and grime.

Davis parked in back and climbed out, nodding in Bob’s direction.

“Sheriff,” Bob said, coming out to meet him. He extended his hand, which Troy Davis shook, all the while looking him full in the face. That was encouraging. If Davis planned to arrest him, he figured there’d be some sign. Thus far, he hadn’t seen any.

“How’s it going, Bob?” Troy asked.

“All right.”

“Peggy around?”

“She’s inside baking. She’s probably almost done. Cookies, I think. Do you want to come in the house?”

Sheriff Davis nodded. “I’d like to talk to you both.”

Bob led the way through the back door off the kitchen. As he’d predicted, Peggy’s cookies were cooling on wire racks and the lingering scent of oatmeal and raisins filled the room. She must’ve seen Troy pull into the driveway because she’d already placed three mugs on the table and had the coffee poured. She’d set aside a plate of cookies, too.