8 Sandpiper Way (26 page)

Roy set his pen aside and exhaled slowly.

“You don’t need to tell me how bad this looks,” Dave muttered.

If news of his youthful arrest went public, no one would ever believe that he hadn’t stolen from Martha Evans. No one would ever believe him again, period. He’d lose all credibility.

He might as well give up now. The fact that the incident had happened almost twenty years ago didn’t matter. Nor did all the years he’d served God and this community. People would remember only one thing about him—what he’d done at eighteen.

Roy was suspiciously quiet.

“I suppose you’re going to advise me to turn myself in,” Dave said stiffly, his back straight and his voice hard.

“Did you steal Martha Evans’s jewelry?”

“I already told you I didn’t have anything to do with that!” he cried. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“On the contrary, I do.”

“But everyone will think—”

“You know the truth,” Roy said without emotion, “and since it is the truth, I don’t feel you have anything to worry about.”

Dave’s relief was so great that for a moment he thought he might break down.

“You believe I’m telling the truth even though all the evidence seems to point directly at me?”

Roy shrugged. “Sheriff Davis would be the first to tell you that while circumstantial evidence
can
solve a crime, it can be misleading, too. The person responsible for the crime isn’t always the most obvious. Everything you’ve told me amounts to circumstantial evidence. You claim you didn’t have anything to do with those missing jewels. I’ve known you for a number of years and I’ve never seen you do anything underhanded or dishonest. So…I believe you.”

It felt good to have at least one person on his side. “Why should you trust me? I mean, maybe I haven’t really changed. Maybe I’m still a thief.” He couldn’t resist pushing Roy. He needed all the reassurance he could get.

“Why should I trust you?” Again Roy shrugged. “Because I do. First, you wouldn’t wander around town flaunting that watch if you’d stolen it. For another thing, I feel I’m a good judge of character.”

“Thank you.”

“Last, and probably most important,” Roy said, leaning forward and scribbling a note on his pad, “Sheriff Davis has a fairly good idea who might be responsible.”

“He does?”

Roy met his gaze and nodded.

Dave continued to stare at him. “You aren’t going to tell me who you think it might be?”

Roy grinned. Then he said, “That’s not up to me. You’ve asked for my advice and I’ll give it to you. Go see Sheriff Davis and tell him everything you’ve just told me.”

T
roy Davis decided this was destined to be the worst Christmas of his life. He could see it happening already. Everywhere he turned people were in good spirits. Even the crime rate was down. Folks around town had taken a kinder, gentler approach to life. Instead of lifting his own mood, however, that only irritated him. In a word, he was depressed.

The reason, and he was obliged to admit the fault was of his own making, could be attributed to a number of unpleasant factors. First and foremost, the woman he loved wanted nothing to do with him.

They’d parted on relatively friendly terms. But he wondered if it would’ve been better if they’d simply blown up at each other, if they’d stopped hiding the pain and the anger. But oh, no, that wasn’t Faith’s way. She’d wanted to end their relationship on a civilized note. For all the well-wishing between them, he told himself peevishly, you’d think they’d gotten engaged.

It didn’t help his mood that Dave Flemming seemed to have involved the entire town in this ridiculous Nativity reenactment. The whole cast of characters, from Mary
and Joseph right down to the drummer boy, was made up of volunteers. They were displaying the tableau nightly for two weeks, until December twenty-third. People who came to see it were asked to bring a nonperishable item to feed the hungry or throw a dollar or two into a donation box. Word had spread to the surrounding communities and there were whole caravans of cars and trucks making their way to Cedar Cove. So that meant traffic snarls and chaos on the road, which required him to add a rotation of deputies to deal with it.

Troy had no idea how Dave had managed to borrow a camel for the program. From some petting zoo, maybe? But camels weren’t the friendliest or most tolerant of beasts, or so he’d heard. In addition, Dave had located a few head of sheep, a donkey and some cattle; all of them were required to stand in adoration for at least four hours every night. Nothing like this had ever taken place in Cedar Cove before and the event was an unqualified success. It was even more popular than the seagull calling contest, which was really saying something.

Successful as it was, though, the Nativity scene put a lot of pressure on Pastor Flemming. And things would only get worse because Troy was obliged to call him in for questioning. Martha Evans’s relatives were on him like white on rice. Those two women wanted their mother’s jewelry, and they weren’t going to let up until Troy made an arrest. Circumstantially, everything pointed to Dave Flemming. But after all these years in police work, Troy knew he could rely on his instincts and he didn’t believe for a minute that Dave was involved. Still, there were a few unanswered questions he needed to ask—not that Dave was the only “person of interest” here. Unfortunately the likely culprit had been
cagey and Troy didn’t have a legitimate reason to order a visit to the station—not yet, anyway.

The phone rang and he grabbed it, grateful for the interruption. “Sheriff Davis.”

“Hi, Daddy.” His daughter’s sweet voice instantly made him feel better. “Merry Christmas.”

“Same to you, sweetheart.”

“I saw Faith this morning.”

Troy gritted his teeth. Megan didn’t realize she was rubbing salt in an open wound. “That’s nice,” was the best he could manage.

“She said to tell you hello.”

Troy straightened. This might be a sign. Perhaps Faith was signaling that she’d be receptive to hearing from him. His mood lightened a little more. “Did she now?” Perhaps Faith had experienced a change of heart and was using his daughter as a messenger.

“I told you she’s helping me with my knitting, didn’t I?”

“I think you said something about it.” He was afraid to reveal how desperate he was for every detail his daughter could give him.

“We’re going to meet for lunch every week.”

“That’s nice.” Again, he kept his voice even so as not to indicate any undue interest.

“It is. We talk about my pregnancy and she’s been really helpful. She’s a lot like Mom, you know. She listens and reassures me. I like her so much.”

Troy let the comment slide, eager to hear anything Faith might have said, but not so eager that he’d ask his daughter outright.

“I asked her why the two of you didn’t get together. You used to like each other, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but that was eons ago.”

Megan sighed. “That’s what Faith said, too.”

Troy knew she’d never say anything openly critical of him, especially to Megan. He was astonished that the two of them had become friends without his knowing it. Who would’ve guessed? Now Megan was practically begging him to date the very woman she’d once feared would come between them.

“She had lots of nice things to say about you.”

He resisted asking his daughter to list those things one by one.

“Something happened, didn’t it?”

Before he could form a reply, Megan said, “Something you don’t want to tell me because Faith doesn’t want to talk about it, either.”

Troy exhaled. “Sometimes it’s best to leave the past in the past.”

“Is there anything I can do, Daddy?”

“Do?”

“To make things right between you and Faith.”

He considered the offer and could think of nothing. “No, but thanks for asking.”

Troy glanced up and saw Roy McAfee in the doorway. “Let me call you back,” he told his daughter.

“Do you have a visitor?”

“I do.”

Megan sounded disappointed. “I wish it was Faith.”

So did Troy. If Santa was up to granting requests this year, Troy would ask for another chance with her. Unfortunately, all the evidence said there was no Santa.

“Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye for now.”

As soon as he’d replaced the receiver, Roy stepped into
his office. Troy motioned for him to take a seat. “What can I do for you?” he asked. It went without saying that his friend wasn’t making a social call. If Roy came to the office, it was on official business.

“Do you have any new leads on the Martha Evans case?” Roy began. He claimed the chair across from Troy, leaned back and ostentatiously made himself comfortable. It was an unspoken way of conveying that he had information to share.

“What makes you ask?” This was a routine they sometimes played out, dodging and feinting until the information was exchanged. Troy liked the private detective and trusted his judgment, but
he
was the lawman and he made sure Roy understood that.

“I had a visitor yesterday,” Roy said.

“Was this in regard to the missing jewelry?”

A regal nod from Roy.

“Anyone I know?”

Roy hesitated, then inclined his head again.

“As it happens, I had a visitor myself regarding this matter. On Monday as well.”

McAfee lifted his eyebrows. “Anyone I know?” he said, echoing Troy’s own question.

But Troy could be as evasive as his friend. He inclined his head, too.

“
My
visitor was Dave Flemming,” Roy told him.

“Geoff Duncan came to see
me.
“

“Did he now?” McAfee went on to tell him everything Dave had said, which was quite a bit.

Troy then revealed that Dave had phoned and asked to speak to him but wanted to wait until after Christmas. After that, Troy was more convinced than ever that his theory was correct.

“Geoff came to tell me he was in a quandary,” he said casually. “Apparently he’s been wrestling with what to do and decided that even if he did lose his job, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.”

“He told you about Emily Flemming’s visit to the law office.”

“Yes.”

“I thought he might do that.” Roy stood, reached inside his pants pocket and produced the gold watch and a pair of diamond earrings.

Troy immediately recognized both as part of the Evans estate. “You got those from Dave?”

Roy nodded. “He claims the watch was a gift from Martha.”

“And the paperwork was supposed to be in the file, only it wasn’t. Right?”

“Exactly,” Roy said. Then he added, “Dave says he doesn’t know where the diamond earrings came from. He told me he’d never laid eyes on them until his wife showed them to him. She found them in his suit jacket.”

Troy said nothing.

McAfee studied him closely. “I believe him.”

“I do, too.” The sheriff relaxed in his chair and leaned back. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

“Sure thing, Sheriff—if you’re willing to share your thoughts, too.”

Troy chuckled. “I have a feeling we’ve reached the same conclusion.”

“If I were a betting man, I’d lay odds on it.”

“Cards on the table, then?”

“Cards on the table,” Roy said.

R
achel carried a box of clothes into the living room and stacked it on top of the others. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed Bruce to talk her into an early wedding at this time of year. Christmas!

It was insane.

It was wonderful.

She was eager to wake up in the morning with the man she loved by her side. She’d given notice on her small rental house but had until New Year’s Eve to move everything out.

Jolene burst back into the house. “Anything else?” she asked.

“Take the box on top. It isn’t heavy.” Rachel bent to rearrange the dishes in one carton.

“Okay, got it.” She grabbed it and headed outside to Bruce’s truck.

Bruce, who was entering the house as Jolene went out, held the door for his daughter.

Rachel straightened and rubbed the small of her back. She was astonished by the amount of stuff she’d managed to accumulate during her seven years in this rental. Most
of the furniture was second-hand and she intended to donate it to charity, but that still left a lot to pack.

“You’re exhausted,” Bruce said. “Maybe we should all take a break.”

Rachel shook her head, despite the fact that she’d started work at eight that morning and been on her feet nine hours before rushing home to pack.

Walking over to her, Bruce drew her into the circle of his arms. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For loving me and Jolene. For agreeing to marry me now and not making me wait until February.”

“Trust me, Bruce, I’m not complaining.”

“Didn’t I tell you we should have our wedding over the holidays?”

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “I can see you’re going to be the kind of husband who says ‘I told you so.’”

“Was I right, or was I right?” he asked, leaning back enough to look her in the eyes, then kiss the tip of her nose.

The screen door slammed shut and Jolene bounded into the house. She came to an abrupt halt, sighing loudly. “Are you two going to get all kissy-face again?”

“Probably,” Bruce said.

“Do you want me to leave?” It might have sounded like a joke but Rachel knew it wasn’t.

“Not at all.” She reluctantly broke away. Jolene wasn’t comfortable with even the lightest of kisses between her father and Rachel. Bruce didn’t seem to notice, but Rachel certainly had.

“I’m hungry,” Jolene announced.

Bruce glanced at his watch. “Well, no wonder! It’s after eight.”

They’d started loading Bruce’s truck as soon as Rachel got off work at six. She’d packed as much as she could the night before, but the salon was extra-busy so close to the holidays. Trying to adjust her schedule, pack and move in with Bruce and Jolene, get ready for Christmas
and
her wedding, all within a few days, plus get the rental house clean, was too much—and yet Rachel wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“Let me drive this load to the house,” Bruce suggested next. “On the way back I’ll pick up something for dinner. What would you like?”

“Chicken!” Jolene shouted.

Bruce looked at Rachel. “Chicken sounds good to me, too,” she said.

“Should I come with you or stay with Rachel?” Jolene asked.

“I could use some more help packing up my bedroom,” Rachel told her.

“Okay. Bye, Dad.” Jolene hugged Bruce, then started to gather up empty cartons.

“Do I get a kiss goodbye?” Bruce asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Remembering Jolene’s response to the last kiss, Rachel said, “No.”

Bruce pouted. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be stingy.”

“I’m going to be sensible. We both have things to do.”

“Anything we can do together?” he teased.

“Bruce,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder to confirm that Jolene had left the room. “As much as I’d like to spend the rest of the night cuddled up on that sofa with you, I can’t.”

He sighed, kissed her cheek, then sauntered out, closing the door behind him.

“Dad gone already?” Jolene asked, dragging a cardboard box into the living room.

“Yes, but he won’t be long.”

Jolene set down the box and threw herself on the sofa. “It’s kind of weird.”

“What is?”

Jolene shrugged. “You marrying my dad.”

“You’re happy about it, though, aren’t you?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

The lack of enthusiasm caught Rachel unawares. Dropping the tablecloth she was folding, she sat beside Jolene. “Maybe we should talk about this.”

Jolene hung her head. “Okay.”

“Are you worried things will change?”

“They will,” she said, then added, “They already have.”

Rachel had to admit she was right. Everything
had
changed—between her and Bruce, and between her and Jolene, too. Rachel was grateful for the girl’s honesty.

“You and Dad will probably have a baby,” Jolene muttered next.

Rachel and Bruce had discussed that very subject more than once. Because she was thirty-three, Rachel wanted to get pregnant within the first year. Bruce was in full agreement.

“I thought you
wanted
a brother or sister,” Rachel commented.

“I do…sort of,” Jolene said. “I used to think I did, but now that it might really happen, I know everyone will pay attention to the baby and—”

“And not you,” Rachel finished for her. She placed her arm around Jolene’s shoulders and brought her close. From the time Jolene was six, Rachel had been a constant
in her life. She knew this child, loved her—couldn’t imagine loving her more than she already did.

Jolene shrugged again.

“Your father loves you, Jolene.”

“I know.”

“Baby or no baby, that isn’t going to change.”

The girl sighed, staring down at her hands.

“It isn’t going to change with me, either,” Rachel told her.

After a short pause, Jolene asked, “Will I have to call you Mom?”

“What would you like to call me?”

Jolene looked at her uncertainly. “I think of you as Rachel.”

“Then call me Rachel.”

“I want you to be my mother!”

“Jolene, call me whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

“But I
had
a mom,” she cried suddenly, startling Rachel.

“Of course you did, and Stephanie will always be with you and part of you.”

Jolene’s face was anxious. “I don’t want to forget her and I’m afraid I will.”

The anguish in her voice was heartbreaking, and Rachel knew she had to respond carefully.

“Oh, Jolene, you aren’t going to forget her. I can promise you that. Remember, I lost my mother, too.”

When her own mother died, Rachel had gone to live with her aunt—her mother’s older sister. Her father, unlike Bruce, didn’t want a youngster underfoot. He was a busy man with a job that often took him out of town. He’d died of a heart attack when she was in her early twenties. She first came to live with her aunt at the age of ten and was supposed to stay in Cedar Cove just until
school was over. Her father had intended to make other arrangements, which in retrospect probably meant a boarding school.

Her aunt was a levelheaded woman, strict and orderly, but not without affection. She’d never married. After the school year she’d suggested Rachel continue living with her. Her father was only too willing to agree.

“When you and Dad get married, will I have to take down my mother’s picture?” Jolene asked.

“Of course not!” Jolene kept it on the dresser in her bedroom.

“I need it to remember.”

“I know you do.” Rachel smoothed the hair away from Jolene’s brow. “This has all come at you pretty quickly, hasn’t it? Your dad and me getting married, I mean.”

“I…I thought you were marrying Nate and moving away, and then all of a sudden Dad tells me
he
loves you and now you two are getting married. That was supposed to happen on Valentine’s Day and now it’s Christmas and you’re moving in with us.”

Hearing it from Jolene’s perspective, it did seem rushed. “Would you rather we waited until February?” Rachel asked. If that was the case she’d delay the wedding.

“I…I’m not sure.”

“We didn’t give you time to adjust to the idea,” Rachel murmured, feeling she’d failed Jolene.

“I want you to marry my dad. And I want you to move in with us…”

“Just not yet.”

“I…I don’t know.”

Rachel acknowledged the girl’s indecision. “I understand you’re feeling confused,” she said. “Things really have changed too fast for you, haven’t they?”

“Yeah,” Jolene agreed, and Rachel sensed her relief.

How foolish she and Bruce had been. Without meaning to, they’d excluded his daughter. They’d been so focused on their own emotions, Jolene had taken second place.

“Shall we think about this for a minute? What would you like to see happen?”

“I want you to be my friend again.”

Rachel hadn’t considered it that way. “I’ll always be your friend, Jolene.”

“I want you to be. Except…”

“Except what?” Rachel pressed.

“Except…I don’t like it when you and Dad kiss and stuff. It’s like I’m not even in the room, but I am and I see everything. It’s
embarrassing.
None of my friends’ parents kiss like that.”

Rachel figured the newness of the attraction between her and Bruce would wear off in time. But in the meanwhile, Jolene’s discomfort had to be taken into account. Rachel’s heart sank as she thought about this. It was all more complicated than she’d realized.

Rachel spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes listening to Jolene, encouraging her to express her concerns, trying to reassure her. When the front door opened and Bruce strolled in carrying a large white bag containing their dinner, he seemed to sense that something was wrong.

“Hey, you two, what’s up?”

Rachel looked at Jolene, whose eyes seemed to plead with her not to say anything.

“We’re just talking,” Rachel said.

Jolene squeezed her hand in thanks.

“Anyone hungry?” Bruce asked.

“I am,” Rachel announced with feigned cheerfulness.

“Me, too,” Jolene chimed in.

Bruce brought the takeout meal to the kitchen. The moment he’d left the living room, Rachel turned to Jolene again. “Let me talk to your father,” she said.

“He’ll be mad at me.”

“No, he won’t,” Rachel told her. “Leave everything to me.”

Jolene folded her arms, her expression downcast. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“About what?” Bruce stood in the doorway.

Rachel glanced at Jolene and then at Bruce. “Our lives are changing so quickly that Jolene’s having a hard time keeping up.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

Rachel had hoped he’d understand. “I’m thinking she’s probably right, and we may have let this whole marriage thing get ahead of us.”

Bruce stepped into the room. “What are you saying? Don’t forget, I’m a guy. You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

“Well,” Rachel said, reaching for Jolene’s hand, “maybe we should wait until Valentine’s Day. That was the original plan and now we’re—”

“Delay the wedding?” he broke in. “No way!” Bruce shook his head vigorously. “I want us married, and the sooner the better.”

“There’s Jolene to consider,” Rachel reminded him.

Bruce regarded his daughter for a moment and then knelt down in front of her. “Are you upset about Rachel and me getting married?” he asked.

Jolene refused to meet his gaze. “A little,” she said in a small voice.

“I thought you liked Rachel.”

“I do! A lot.”

“So what’s the problem?”

The girl shrugged, as if unable to voice her feelings.

“I love Rachel,” Bruce told her gently. “And I love you, too.”

Rachel was proud of him for being so sensitive to his daughter. Jolene needed to know that she was still as important to Bruce as ever. She and Bruce shared an unusually close bond because it had been just the two of them for more than six years; Rachel’s constant presence in their lives would disrupt that, change it. And at twelve, a girl needed her father’s approval, his pride in her. Rachel was very conscious of not having received that and she refused to let the same thing happen to Jolene.

The phone rang in the distance. Unwilling to answer it and risk breaking the mood, Rachel let the answering machine pick up.

“Ms. Pendergast, this is Cedar Cove Realty,” a man’s voice said. “Could you return this call at your earliest convenience? We have a renter for the house and need the exact date you plan to vacate.”

Jolene stared at Rachel, eyes wide. “The house has already been rented?”

“Sounds like it,” Bruce responded, looking far more pleased than he should.

“If Rachel doesn’t marry you now, she won’t have anyplace to live.” Jolene’s voice was horrified.

“That’s not true—” Rachel started to say, before Bruce cut her off.

“Guess so.”

“Bruce!” Rachel wanted to jab him in the ribs and would have if he’d been sitting beside her instead of
Jolene. “I can stay with friends.” She could bunk down in Teri’s huge house for a couple of months. It would be an imposition, but Teri was the kind of friend who wouldn’t have any objections—who’d insist on it, for that matter.

“Then…you and Rachel should get married this week,” Jolene said after a moment.

“I say we wait,” Rachel returned decisively. She needed to let her soon-to-be stepdaughter know that she heard her concerns and took them seriously.

Bruce glared at her. “I want to marry you
now.
You want Rachel with us, too, right, Jolene?”

Jolene met Rachel’s eyes. After a long pause she slowly nodded. “Right, Dad.”