92 Pacific Boulevard

by Debbie Macomber

  He arrived at the office, his mood still optimistic. It wasn’t long before reality struck its first blow.

  Troy hadn’t been at his desk more than ten minutes when he received a visit from his most recently hired deputy, Gloria Ashton. Gloria was the daughter of private detective Roy McAfee and his wife, although they’d met her only four years ago. Apparently, Roy and Corrie had broken up for a while in college, not knowing Corrie was pregnant. She’d relinquished the baby for adoption.

  Years later, Gloria, now an adult, had sought them out. Troy was astonished by how similar father and daughter were, in personality and in interests. They’d both gone into law enforcement, although Roy had retired from the Seattle police.

  “Morning, Sheriff.” Gloria entered his office, hands clasped in front of her.

  “Sit down,” he said, gesturing toward one of the visitor chairs.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather stand.”

  “Whatever you prefer.” She seemed uncomfortable and he wondered why.

  Her shoulders were squared, her back straight and her eyes just managed to avoid his. “I thought I should give you a heads-up about an arrest I made last night.”

  “All right.” It was obvious that this hadn’t been a routine matter. “Tell me about it.”

  Again she avoided eye contact. “I saw a car with a burned-out headlight. When I turned around and followed the vehicle, the driver made an effort to evade me.”

  “You pulled the car over?”

  “I did.” She paused. “I quickly assessed that the driver was intoxicated. I asked him to get out of his car and step away from it, which he did without hesitation. After performing the routine checks, I gave him a Breathalyzer test and it showed an alcohol level exceeding .08. I immediately placed him under arrest.”

  So far, this was nothing out of the ordinary and didn’t warrant Troy’s attention. “Is there a reason you’ve come to tell me this personally?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She nodded curtly.

  At that moment it was easy to see that Gloria was Roy McAfee’s daughter. The set of her jaw, the unyielding line of her mouth, was all Roy.

  “The driver was Mayor Louie Benson.”

  Troy felt like groaning out loud. Well, so be it. The law was the law. “I see.“

  “He lawyered up right away,” Gloria went on to tell him.

  Troy wouldn’t have expected any less. “His brother Otto’s an attorney. I imagine Louie has him on speed dial.“

  She nodded again. “His attorney met us at the jail.“

  This was awkward, but he’d handled awkward situations before. “I appreciate the advance warning.”

  Her gaze found his and he read the doubt in her eyes. “I wanted you to know…”

  “Did Mayor Benson point out that he was an elected official or did you recognize him?“

  “Both,” she said. “I knew who he was as soon as he stepped out of the car and then he told me. The thing is—” She hesitated and then looked away. “He was belligerent when I first pulled him over.“

  “I…see.” Troy had known Benson for years on a casual basis, although they’d never been close friends. The mayor had been kind when Sandy died and insisted Troy take all the time he needed. To the best of his knowledge, Troy couldn’t remember seeing him with a drink in his hand, not even at the social functions they’d both attended. This behavior seemed completely out of character.

  Gloria appeared to be waiting for Troy to comment. “I came to discuss this with you because I wanted to be sure I’d done the right thing, taking Benson into custody.“

  “You did.” Awkward situation or not, Gloria wasn’t to blame because a local politician hadn’t had the good sense to know when enough was enough. Sometimes people in the public eye felt they’d been awarded some form of entitlement that placed their actions above the law.

  “Mayor Benson asked me to cut him some slack.” Gloria clasped and unclasped her hands. “I checked his driving record, and it’s clean. He doesn’t have so much as a parking violation.”

  Troy nodded. Still, that didn’t give him a clear picture. It could mean that in the past Mayor Benson had been granted a free ride or some deputy had conveniently looked the other way.

  Gloria stared down at the floor. “He said if I issued him a DUI, he’d see to it that I was fired from my job.”

  “In other words, he threatened you.” Troy had to believe Louie didn’t know what he was saying. He could charge the mayor with a further offense, but he didn’t want to do that, as much for Gloria’s sake as Louie’s.

  Gloria frowned slightly as though she’d never intended to admit this. “I…think he was too drunk to remember everything he said. The thing is, Sheriff, I enjoy working in Cedar Cove and I’d hate this incident to tarnish my career in law enforcement—or worse, end it.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. Not on Troy’s watch, anyway. “You have nothing to worry about, Ashton. You did your job. If there’s any political flack over this, I’ll deal with it.”

  He felt, more than saw, his deputy relax.

  “I thought later that I should’ve contacted you at the time of the arrest.”

  “Don’t second-guess yourself. You made the right decision.” Although in retrospect, Troy wished she had called him. It wouldn’t have made any difference to the outcome, however. Benson would’ve ended up in jail regardless. But it might have eased Gloria’s mind. Instead, she’d spent a restless night, worrying about Troy’s reaction to the news.

  “Like I said, you did your job.” He glanced at his watch. “Aren’t you off duty?”

  “I am.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  Her mouth twitched with a half smile.

  “Again, I appreciate that you brought this to my attention. I’ll handle it from this point forward.”

  “Thank you.” The relief in her voice was evident.

  When Gloria had left his office, Troy decided he’d better talk to the mayor immediately; otherwise, this whole affair could blow up in his face. Briefly he wondered if Louie was a secret drinker. In any case, Troy was not the kind of lawman who’d bow to influence or intimidation.

  But the reasons for the mayor’s behavior, whatever they might be, were irrelevant. Louie was in the wrong, no question about it.

  When he called the jail, he discovered that Mayor Benson had been released on his own recognizance.

  Their confrontation wasn’t going to be pleasant. Lately he seemed to be at odds with the mayor over a number of issues. This certainly wouldn’t improve their relationship.

  Troy found Benson in his office at city hall. The mayor glanced up when Troy was announced, then glanced away. He looked dreadful—pale and disheveled with bloodshot eyes. From his appearance, Troy suspected Benson hadn’t had much sleep.

  “Your department seems to enjoy embarrassing me,” Louie said, taking the defensive even before Troy had opened his mouth.

  “I’d say you’re doing a mighty fine job of that all by yourself,” he countered.

  Louie got up to close his office door. When he turned to face Troy, his mouth was set in a grim line. “I’d like this matter to disappear. I trust you can make that happen.”

  Nope, he couldn’t. “Unfortunately, the outcome is out of my control.“

  It was as if the other man hadn’t heard him. “Your deputy’s overzealous. She targeted me because of my position as mayor.“

  “That’s simply not true. Ashton is a good officer. She—“

  “I was only fractionally over the legal limit, Sheriff. The officer refused to listen to reason. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be put in handcuffs and escorted to jail?“

  “You broke the law.“

  “By a fraction of a point,” he said, tapping his desk.

  “You’re the one who decided you were sober enough to drive. Don’t cast blame other than where it belongs.” After a meaningful pause, he added, “If you want to make a fuss, perhaps I shou
ld mention that not only did you break the law, you threatened one of my officers.“

  The mayor ignored Troy’s comment as he paced, his steps agitated and angry. He seemed to be weighing his options. Finally he sighed, shaking his head. “Okay, whatever. You’re right—I shouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel. I accept full responsibility. Still, once word of this gets out, it could ruin me.”

  “Possibly.” Troy wasn’t going to downplay the situation.

  “But that isn’t your problem, is it?” The question was tossed at him flippantly.

  “How you cope with the political fallout is up to you.”

  The mayor walked back to his desk and braced his hands against the edge. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I…I don’t drink and drive.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Benson was quiet for a moment, then looked up at Troy. “Do you have any suggestions on how to deal with this?”

  Troy didn’t wait for an invitation; he sat down and met the other man’s eyes without flinching. “I believe honesty really is the best policy. Admit that you made a mistake and that you’ll take responsibility for your actions.”

  Slowly the mayor sank into his leather chair. “That’s harder than you think,” he muttered.

  “It would be helpful for the public to know how easily something like this can happen.” Troy frequently dealt with similar cases. A couple of after-work beers or glasses of wine in quick succession, and then people would drive home, unaware of how much the alcohol had affected them. Mayor Benson wasn’t alone.

  Apparently he didn’t like Troy’s advice. Frowning, he said, “So now you want me to turn this into a public service announcement.”

  Troy didn’t feel that was worthy of a response. “However you approach it with your constituents is up to you,” he said dispassionately.

  Louie’s face seemed to pale even more. “You’re right…it’s just that…” He left the rest unsaid. Sighing again, he hung his head. “I guess the best way to deal with this fiasco is to face it head-on. I’ll contact Jack Griffin at the paper and give him the story before he prints it on his own.”

  “Smart idea.” Jack, the Chronicle’s editor, was a good person for the mayor to talk to, for more than the obvious reason. Jack was a recovering alcoholic with quite a few years of sobriety. If the mayor had a drinking problem, there was no one better than Jack Griffin to confide in.

  The two men parted amicably enough. The arrest was acutely embarrassing for Louie and at the same time it might be the wake-up call he needed. What happened now was entirely up to Louie Benson.

  After that bumpy start to the day, Troy was hoping his afternoon would run smoothly. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be.

  Faith’s call came in at close to one o’clock. Troy couldn’t disguise his pleasure in hearing from her. “Faith! This is a nice surprise.”

  “I apologize,” she said and hardly sounded like herself, “but I’m going to have to cancel our dinner date.”

  Troy’s spirits did an automatic nosedive. “Oh?” He did his best to seem nonchalant, as though this was a minor disappointment. It wasn’t.

  “Someone slashed my tires last night.”

  “What?” Troy gritted his teeth as anger surged through him. “Did you report it?”

  “What good will that do?” she cried. “I’ve reported the vandalism before and nothing seems to help.”

  Troy was too agitated to discuss this over the phone. “I’m on my way over to your place.”

  “Troy—”

  “Ten minutes.” He hung up, grabbed his hat and coat and was out the door. Although this wasn’t technically an emergency, he turned on his lights but not the siren. He wished he could determine why Faith had been targeted—and how to stop it. But whatever it took, he was determined to put an end to this.

  When Faith opened the door, she looked pale and drawn, with dark shadows beneath her eyes. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her but reminded himself that he was there as a professional, not as her friend—or would-be lover.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said in his most authoritative voice.

  Faith led him to her living room and slumped down on the couch. “I was supposed to go to work this morning, but when I went out to the car, I saw that…that my tires were slashed.”

  “All four?”

  She nodded.

  This was no small expense.

  “I called the clinic and told them I couldn’t come in today. Then I contacted the auto service. They had to tow my car to the tire place…I won’t have it back until tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry, Faith.” As the town’s sheriff, Troy felt responsible. “Did the neighbors see anything?”

  Faith shook her head. “I already asked. It must’ve happened after midnight, which is when the McCormicks next door went to bed. No one saw or heard a thing.”

  Troy closed his eyes in frustration.

  “I was so upset, I phoned my daughter, and Jay Lynn insisted I spend the weekend with her. Frankly, Troy, I need to get away. I’m at the end of my rope. Someone doesn’t want me here and after today…after this morning, all I can say is I don’t want to be here, either.”

  “You don’t mean it,” he said.

  “I do. I made a huge mistake the day I moved to Cedar Cove.”

  His hand tightened on his hat brim, crushing the felt. “It was exactly the opposite for me. It was one of the best days of my life.”

  “Apparently you have a short memory,” she chided, then smiled weakly in his direction. “I was shocked when the Seattle house sold so quickly—but even more shocked when you said we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

  If Troy could take back those words, if he could unsay them, he would. Breaking off the relationship with Faith had been one of the biggest blunders of his adult life, and he’d paid for it every day since.

  “Listen,” Faith said, “I don’t mean to rehash old arguments. I’m tired and upset and a weekend away will do me good.”

  Troy agreed, although he would’ve liked it a whole lot better if she’d decided to visit her son instead of Jay Lynn. Scott, at least, lived in town.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Troy asked.

  She gazed up at him, her bruised-looking eyes meeting his. “There’s nothing anyone can do. The best thing for me is to leave town.”

  “No!” he objected loudly.

  “For the weekend,” she amended. “What happens after that can wait. Now isn’t a good time for either of us to make a decision about…whether we have a future together.”

  Troy disagreed with her. He wanted Faith with him. He wanted to marry her. But first he had to convince her that they did have a future together. A future in Cedar Cove.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Linc Wyse was not in favor of this idea of Mary Jo’s. If his sister wanted to move out of the house, fine; she was free to do so whenever she wished. That said, in his opinion the timing didn’t make any sense.

  As a young mother, Mary Jo needed to be home with her baby. It went without saying that she resented his attitude—but then that was par for the course. He knew that by today’s standards it was perfectly normal for a mother to return to work three months after giving birth. Their own mother had been a stay-at-home mom and he had strong feelings on the subject. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a popular stance and it certainly wasn’t one his sister shared. When he became a husband and father—he instantly dismissed that thought. Marriage wasn’t likely to happen for someone like him, not with his old-fashioned views. That saddened him but he might as well accept reality.

  He’d found it more difficult than he would’ve believed to watch Mary Jo pack up and move across Puget Sound. Despite that, he rather liked Cedar Cove. He’d driven all around the area on Christmas Eve, searching for Mary Jo, and—for the most part—he’d had a good impression of it. His recent visits had confirmed that. It was a nice little town, welcoming and friendly. The only drawback was the dis
tance. In the past week alone, he’d made four trips to the Kitsap Peninsula to see his sister and the baby. To check up on both of them.

  According to Mary Jo, not a single one of those trips had been necessary. But Linc wouldn’t sleep at night if he hadn’t personally seen to his sister’s and niece’s well-being. He’d always taken family responsibility seriously.

  It only seemed right that he visit Noelle on her very first St. Patrick’s Day. Their family background—like that of so many Americans—was motley, with English, French and German that he knew of. He was sure there must be some Irish in there, too. Just in case, he’d bought her a plush leprechaun doll. But he had an even better excuse for this visit; he’d located a new sofa and chair in a closeout deal. He’d wanted to bring them himself, which saved delivery fees. The truth was, he looked forward to surprising his sister.

  Mary Jo had him pegged as some sort of ogre and that just wasn’t true. He hoped this peace offering would help.

  When he parked in front of the duplex, he saw Mack McAfee on a ladder, cleaning out the gutters. Linc hadn’t quite made up his mind about McAfee. Mack had been with Mary Jo during the most critical time of her life. Still, having him live right next door was a little too convenient. Linc wasn’t sure he approved.

  He’d made the mistake of voicing his concerns, and Mary Jo had nearly bitten his head off. He’d kept his trap shut ever since. Apparently, when it came to McAfee, his sister didn’t care for Linc’s advice. Fine. He’d keep his opinions to himself—and keep an eye on McAfee.

  “Hey, Linc,” Mack called out. He climbed down from the ladder and thrust out his hand, which Linc willingly shook.

  “I don’t suppose my sister’s home?” Linc already knew the answer. He asked because he wanted to know how closely the firefighter kept tabs on his little sister. This was one of those catch-22 situations. He wanted Mack to watch over her. At the same time, he wanted to be sure the guy wasn’t paying her more attention than warranted.

  It was a thin line, and Linc planned on being around often enough to see that Mack didn’t cross it.

  “Mary Jo’s home.”

  “Good.”