They’d moved from the big city, and it hadn’t been as much of an adjustment as Corrie had feared. Folks in town were pleasant, and Roy and Corrie had made a few good friends—notably the Beldons—but kept mostly to themselves. They knew their neighbors’ names and exchanged greetings, but that was about it.
To Corrie’s disappointment, Roy had grown restless with retirement. His moods had reflected his boredom, and he was frequently cantankerous. Everything changed when he decided to rent office space and hang out his shingle as a private investigator. It was a decision Corrie had encouraged. Soon her husband was busy and looking forward to each day. He took on the cases that suited him and turned down those that didn’t. Corrie was proud of Roy’s skills, proud of his success and the way he cared about his clients. Never did it occur to her, or apparently to Roy, that one day he’d be solving his own mystery.
“You could be in danger,” Corrie murmured, letting her anxiety show. She refused to hide her feelings, refused to pretend all was well when it wasn’t.
Roy shrugged. “I doubt I’m in jeopardy. If anyone wanted to do me harm, they would’ve done so before now.”
“How can you say that?” she asked irritably. “Bob was followed, and we both know it wasn’t Bob they were interested in. He was driving your car. They thought they were following you.”
Bob Beldon, together with his wife, Peggy, was the owner of the local bed-and-breakfast, Thyme and Tide. Bob had borrowed Roy’s car and phoned in a near panic, sure he was being followed. Roy had advised him to drive immediately to the sheriff’s office. As soon as Bob had pulled in to the station, the tail had left him. Only later did Roy and Corrie figure it out. Whoever had shadowed Bob had assumed it was Roy driving.
“The letter said we’re in no danger,” her husband reminded her.
“Of course! That’s what they want us to think,” Corrie argued. “Whoever’s doing this wants us to lower our guard.”
“Now, Corrie—”
She cut him off, rejecting any further attempts to pacify her. “That basket was delivered to our front porch. This…stranger walked right up to our home and left it, and now you’re telling me we have nothing to worry about?” Her voice quavered, and she realized how close she was to losing control of her emotions. She was tired of being afraid, tired of waiting for the next message—or worse. Tired of waking up with her eyes burning from lack of sleep. Her first conscious thought every morning was fear of what might happen that day.
“The basket came over a week ago, and we’ve heard nothing since.” Roy said this as if this was supposed to comfort her. It didn’t.
“There was no postcard in the mail today, was there?” he asked, and she heard an unmistakable hint of tension in his voice.
“No.” Corrie had collected the mail, flipped through it and tossed the bundle of bills and circulars on her desk.
Roy nodded, as if to say Well, then?
“Roy,” she said with deceptive calm, “I can’t remember the last time I slept a night straight through. You’re not sleeping well, either.”
He didn’t agree or disagree.
“We can’t go on pretending everything’s all right.”
Roy’s handsome features tightened. “I’m doing everything I can,” he told her curtly.
“I know, but it isn’t enough.”
“It has to be.”
Corrie wasn’t an expert in the area of investigations, but she knew when it was time to seek help, and they were well past that point. “You need to talk to somebody.”
“Who?” he asked.
The only person she could suggest was the local sheriff. “Troy Davis…”
“Not a good idea,” Roy said. “Whatever this is about happened long before we moved to Cedar Cove.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Regrets. Every postcard mentions regrets. There isn’t a cop who doesn’t have regrets—about things we’ve done or haven’t done or should’ve done differently.”
She thought—but didn’t say—that every human being had regrets. It wasn’t restricted to cops.
“The last message said I JUST WANT YOU TO THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU DID. DON’T YOU HAVE A SINGLE REGRET? To me, that implies I did something—arrested someone, testified against someone—when I was a detective for Seattle.”
Her voice fell to a whisper. “You were on the force a lot of years. Surely there’s a case or two that stands out in your mind.”
Roy shook his head. “Do you think I haven’t thought about that? You’ve seen me read through my files and notes, going all the way back to my first year on the force, and there’s nothing.”
“I don’t know…You haven’t talked to me. You block me out.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“Don’t!” she cried with barely controlled anger. “I need to know—I have to know. Don’t you see what this is doing to me?”
Roy leaned forward then, bracing his elbows against the desk. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve wracked my brain and I can’t think of anyone who’d come after me like this.”
“But there must be some case…One you might’ve forgotten.”
Obviously at a loss, Roy shook his head again. “Clearly I have. I’ve put murderers away and received my share of threats over the years, but I can’t think of anyone who’d do this. Yet who else could it be?” he said, almost to himself.
“What do you mean?” She was more in control now. Clutching a wadded tissue in her hand, she inhaled a calming breath.
“The type of people I dealt with weren’t subtle. If they wanted revenge, they wouldn’t bother with postcards.”
“A relative of some criminal you sent to jail? Or…a victim?” That was a possibility she’d entertained more than once.
He raised his shoulders in a slight shrug. “Could be.”
“What are we supposed to do now?” It was this constantly being on guard, not knowing what to expect, that had driven Corrie to such an emotional extreme.
“We do nothing.”
“Nothing?” This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “How can we?”
“We have to, for now, until they make a mistake. That’ll happen, sweetheart, I promise you, and once it does, this nightmare will be over.”
“You promise?” she repeated.
Roy’s expression softened and he nodded. Offering her further reassurance, he extended his arm across the desk. Corrie reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. Her husband gazed deep into her eyes. She felt his love, his comfort, and for now it was enough. For today, for this morning at least, she would be fine. Her problem, Corrie decided, was that she was just so tired. Everything would seem less frightening if she could get even one decent night’s sleep.
The front door to the office opened, and Roy abruptly released her and stood. From his years of police work he was always on the alert, never more so than now.
“Mom, Dad?” Their daughter’s voice rang from the outer office where Corrie’s desk was situated.
“Linnette,” Corrie cried eagerly, although her enthusiasm might have seemed a little strained. “We’re in here.”
Their daughter came into the room, then paused, an uncertain expression on her face. She was petite like Corrie, with dark hair and eyes. Also like Corrie, Linnette had excelled in school, and because she was the daughter of a policeman, she’d always been sheltered. Her studies had kept her from pursuing much of a social life, but Corrie hoped that would change now. Linnette had never had a serious boyfriend.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Linnette glanced suspiciously from Corrie to Roy and back again. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine,” Corrie assured her in a rush. “Why shouldn’t it be?”
Their daughter was far too intuitive to be easily fooled, but thankfully she let it pass. “I’ve found an apartment,” Linnette announced and did a small jig around the office.
“Where?” Corrie asked, hoping it was in town. Linne
tte had been hired by the new Cedar Cove Medical Clinic as a Physician’s Assistant, and Corrie was thrilled to have her closer.
“It’s on the cove, just down from the Waterfront Park,” Linnette explained. “The complex next to the Holiday Inn Express.”
Corrie knew the apartment building, since she passed it nearly every day when she went for her afternoon walk. The building was close to the marina and a short distance from the library. The two-story complex had a fabulous water view of the cove and lighthouse, with the Bremerton shipyard in the distance. As far as Corrie was concerned, this was perfect.
“I hope they aren’t charging you an arm and a leg,” Roy cautioned, but Corrie could tell he was pleased.
“The rent, compared to what I was paying in Seattle, is a bargain.”
“Good.”
Roy was still protective of his little girl. Unfortunately, he had a difficult time expressing his feelings for his children—especially their son. Mack and his father were constantly at odds. In Corrie’s opinion, they were too much alike. Mack seemed to know exactly what to say to irritate Roy. And Roy wasn’t blameless, either; he seemed to go out of his way to find fault with their son. Because of the tension between them, they generally avoided each other. Corrie didn’t like it. Most of the time, she felt trapped in the middle. Thankfully that wasn’t the case with Linnette, who was two years older than her brother.
Linnette was talking about the apartment and the move-in date and her job at the clinic. Corrie nodded at the appropriate moments but only listened with half an ear. Roy returned to his work while Corrie walked back to her desk, Linnette following her.
“Mom,” Linnette said as soon as they were in the other room. She lowered her voice, and her face was thoughtful. Concerned. “Are you sure everything’s all right between you and Dad?”
“Of course! What makes you ask?”
Her daughter hesitated. “Just now, when I came into the office, it looked like you were ready to cry, and Dad…he—his eyes were so…hard. I’ve never seen him that intense. I didn’t know what to think.”
“You’re imagining things,” Corrie insisted.
“No, I’m not.”
“It’s nothing. We’ll talk about it later.” Her daughter could be obstinate, definitely a trait she’d inherited from Roy. The last person Corrie intended to share her worries with was Linnette. Eventually, perhaps, once this was all settled, they could laugh about it over lunch. But for now, these postcards were no laughing matter.
“You dropped a piece of mail,” Linnette said, gesturing toward the desk.
Corrie froze. “I did?”
“Yes, there was a postcard on the floor when I came in. I put it on your desk.”
Roy must have heard because he came out of the other office. His eyes met Corrie’s. “Give it to me,” he instructed.
A small protest rose from her throat as she walked over to retrieve the card. Carefully she turned it over and read the message before handing it to Roy.
It said in large block letters: ARE YOU THINKING YET?
“Mom,” Linnette demanded. “You’d better tell me what’s going on.”
Two
Charlotte Jefferson Rhodes worked cheerfully in her kitchen, baking a large batch of cinnamon rolls, Ben’s favorite. After nearly sixty years as Charlotte Jefferson, she had to think twice to remember that she and Ben were actually married. A woman her age didn’t expect to find love this late in life. Like so much else in the past few years, romance had come as a very nice surprise.
“It sure smells good in there,” Ben called out from the living room where he sat, feet propped up on the ottoman. The Bremerton morning newspaper was folded over as he completed the New York Times crossword puzzle. Charlotte was impressed by his skill with words and his wide general knowledge. She also liked his lack of arrogance—he used a pencil to fill it in.
“The first batch will be out of the oven soon,” she promised. She enjoyed baking, especially when there was someone who appreciated her homemade treats. Ben certainly did, but he preferred his cinnamon rolls without raisins. She liked the raisins and Jack, her rascal of a son-in-law, did too. The solution was easy enough; she simply split the batch in half.
Her husband of little more than a month was a handsome man, a Cesar Romero look alike and a few years younger than Charlotte. Their age difference of four years didn’t bother him and it didn’t bother her, either. Charlotte was a young seventy-seven. While still in her teens, she’d married Clyde Jefferson; that was toward the end of the Second World War. Women married much younger back in those days, she reflected. Together Clyde and Charlotte had raised their children in Cedar Cove. Olivia, her daughter, was a family court judge and still lived here. Her son, Will, had moved to Atlanta.
Cedar Cove, where she’d lived for most of her life, was situated on the Kitsap Peninsula across Puget Sound from Seattle, and it was a thriving community. With a population of little over seven thousand, the town was small enough to be friendly, but large enough to have its own medical facility.
The new Cedar Cove Medical Clinic was due to officially open in the middle of November. Charlotte beamed with pride, knowing that without her and Ben and her friends from the Senior Center, there wouldn’t be a clinic.
Even Olivia, her own daughter, hadn’t seen the need for one, since the hospital in Bremerton was less than half an hour away, and there were good doctors in town. All of that was true, but Charlotte felt Cedar Cove should have a more complete medical facility, where emergencies could be handled. Half an hour was a long time to wait if you were having a heart attack! It could make the difference between life and death. Ben had felt the same way, and the cause had bonded them, especially when they were arrested for their peaceful demonstration. That rankled even now, but nearly the entire town had showed up to support her, Ben and their comrades in court. Just remembering how her friends had gathered around them was enough to make Charlotte’s eyes fill with tears.
But, she reminded herself, that was neither here nor there; the clinic had been built and the staff hired, including the McAfees’ daughter, Linnette, a Physician’s Assistant.
The phone rang, and Charlotte glanced at the kitchen clock, slightly annoyed that anyone would be phoning so early on a Saturday morning. To her astonishment, it was nearly ten.
“I’ll get it.” As she reached for the telephone, she noticed that Harry, her black cat, was curled up in Ben’s lap. Now this was progress. Harry was Charlotte’s protector and he wasn’t fond of visitors. It had taken him half of this first month to get accustomed to Ben’s presence and that long again to have anything to do with him.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully into the receiver. Clyde used to say that Charlotte was born in a good mood. She had a natural inclination toward happiness; while some looked at the world as a place of gloom and sadness, she saw the positive things in life, even though she, too, had experienced great sorrows.
“Is my father there?” a rather pleasant male voice asked. Then, as if to clarify the point, he added, “Ben Rhodes.”
“Yes, of course. Is this Stephen?”
Her question was followed by an awkward laugh. “No, it’s David. I’m calling from California.”
“Hello, David,” Charlotte said warmly. “I’m so sorry you weren’t able to make it to our wedding. You were missed.”
Ben’s youngest son seemed taken aback by her friendliness. “I wish I could’ve been there, but I’m sure Dad explained that I got tied up with a work situation.”
Ben hadn’t said anything about either son’s absence, and Charlotte hadn’t pressured him with questions. She wasn’t sure what kind of relationship Ben had with his children. He rarely mentioned them and avoided the topic whenever she brought it up. And yet this young man seemed so likable and polite.
“I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to meeting you, David.”
“I’m eager to meet you, too, Charlotte. My father’s a sly old fox. First he mo
ves to Cedar Cove, when he could just as well have moved closer to either Stephen or me, and then he marries again. I don’t mind telling you that was a real surprise for the family. A most delightful surprise, of course.”
“I was thrilled when your father came into my life,” Charlotte said, charmed by David Rhodes. When neither David nor Stephen made it to the wedding, she feared there must be some problem between Ben and his sons—a fear reinforced by Ben’s apparent unwillingness to talk about them. Maybe there was no problem, after all. David certainly appeared to be an agreeable young man.
“Is my father there?” he asked again.
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, but I do tend to chatter. I’ll get him right away.” Charlotte set down the phone and discovered that Ben was watching her. “It’s your son. David.”
Ben carefully dislodged Harry, laid down the newspaper and stood. “Did he say what he wanted?”
Ben’s frown confused her. David had been gracious and warm in his manner and given no hint of any tension in the family.
Returning to the kitchen, Charlotte couldn’t help overhearing Ben once he’d picked up the phone. She didn’t mean to pry, but she did admit to being curious.
“Hello, David,” Ben said coolly.
It sounded as if Ben and his son were estranged, and that saddened her. She wondered what had happened. A misunderstanding? A long-held grudge? Or simply years of insufficient contact? And why wouldn’t Ben tell her? After his less-than-enthusiastic greeting, he was silent for some time. Unfortunately Charlotte was privy to only one side of the conversation.
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