Troy had kept the names of the two teenagers who’d discovered the body out of the Chronicle. However, that didn’t mean Sadler wouldn’t be able to track them down.
After they’d stumbled upon the remains, Troy had spoken to the teens twice. He was confident Philip “Shaw” Wilson and Tannith Bliss had told him everything they knew, which wasn’t much. The conversations had been straightforward. Although Tannith—Tanni—had done a good job of pretending to shrug off the incident, Troy could tell she’d been badly shaken. He was glad to turn the sixteen-year-old over to her mother.
The last thing Tanni needed was to be questioned by the Seattle press. Shaw was a bit older and Troy felt the young man would cope admirably with a barrage of questions. It might not hurt to give the two of them some warning.
His phone rang and Troy grabbed it, prepared to talk to the elusive Kathleen Sadler. “Sheriff Davis.”
“Uh, I hope I’m not disturbing you unnecessarily.” It was Cody Woodchase.
Troy caught the hesitation in his voice. “You’re not. What’s up?”
“I just got a call from the 9-1-1 dispatcher and apparently there’s been a break-and-enter at 204 Rosewood Lane.”
“Faith?” Troy’s reaction was immediate as he bolted to his feet. That was the address of the rental house where Faith had recently moved. She’d been there a little more than two months.
“I believe I heard she might be a…friend of yours.”
“Yes,” Troy said curtly, his throat muscles tight.
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“I do, Cody. Thank you.” Within seconds, Troy had thrown on his coat and reached for his hat. He charged out the office door, unable to think of anything but Faith. He needed to know she hadn’t been hurt, that she was safe from harm.
Two
The moment Faith Beckwith approached her home she recognized that something was wrong. A sense of foreboding stopped her even before she’d unlocked the kitchen door. She shivered but it wasn’t because of the damp chill of early January, although it’d been raining on and off all day, and the wind cut through her winter coat. Her indecision didn’t last long; she shook it off, turned the key and stepped into—chaos.
Her kitchen floor was strewn with garbage. Someone had upended the trash bin all over the linoleum. Coffee grounds, eggshells and an empty frozen orange-juice container left a trail of grime and filth. Footprints of coffee grounds led into the living room.
Without thinking, Faith reached for the phone. She managed to restrain herself from calling Troy Davis, pausing before she hit the first number, which she’d memorized long ago. Instead, she punched out her son’s home number, praying he was back from work.
The relief that cascaded through her at the sound of Scott’s voice nearly buckled her knees. “Scottie…someone broke into the house.”
“Mom? What do you mean?”
“Someone broke into the house,” she repeated, surprised that she was able to keep her voice level, although she’d begun to tremble with shock.
“You’re sure?”
“There’s garbage all over the kitchen floor!”
“Mom,” Scottie said calmly. “Put down the phone and dial 9-1-1, then call me back.”
“Oh, of course.” She should’ve thought of that. Normally she was a clear-thinking woman; however, stepping into this mess had completely unsettled her.
“Call me back as soon as you do.”
“Okay,” she promised Scottie, then pushed the disconnect button. Taking a deep breath she called emergency services and waited for the operator’s voice.
“This is 9-1-1. How may I assist you?”
“My house has been broken into,” Faith blurted. “I haven’t gone any farther than the kitchen. Whoever was here made a terrible mess.”
“Are you sure the intruder isn’t still in the house?”
That hadn’t even occurred to Faith. Oh, dear…
“No…” The chill she’d experienced earlier returned. It felt as if her feet were frozen to the floor. For all she knew, someone could be standing in the other room.
“Are you on a portable phone?” the operator asked, breaking into the frightening scenarios racing through her mind.
“Yes…”
“Go outside and remain on the line,” the operator continued.
Faith forced herself to hurry to the door, moving as quietly as she could, which was probably ridiculous since she’d been speaking in a normal tone earlier. Surely if the person responsible was in the house, he or she would’ve already overheard.
“I’m outside,” she whispered.
“Good,” the 9-1-1 operator told her in a reassuring voice. “I have a patrol car on the way.”
“Thank you.”
“Deputy Weaver’s estimated time of arrival is three minutes.”
“I’m a friend of Sheriff Troy Davis’s,” she said and instantly regretted it. Troy was out of her life. Yet he was the person she’d wanted to contact when she realized there’d been a break-in. “I was a friend,” she amended.
The phone beeped, indicating that there was another caller.
“I think that’s my son,” Faith told the operator. “He wanted me to phone him back as soon as I’d reported the…crime.” She wasn’t even sure how to refer to it.
“You can return the call in a moment,” the operator told her. “Deputy Weaver should be there soon.”
Faith sighed in relief when she saw the patrol car round the corner. “He’s here now.”
The phone beeped again. “I’ll need to take this, otherwise Scottie will be worried.” She thanked the operator and clicked off, then waited to connect with her son.
“Mom, is everything okay?”
“The deputy’s here,” she assured her son.
“All right. I’m leaving now.” Unfortunately, Scott’s house was some distance from Rosewood Lane, and it would be at least fifteen minutes before he arrived.
Still, once she knew Scott was coming, she felt as though she might collapse. As though she didn’t have the strength to remain upright.
The deputy parked his vehicle at the curb and after she’d spoken with him, he stalked into the house with his weapon drawn.
Clutching her purse, Faith stood in the driveway that led to the garage. Not more than a minute passed, although it seemed much longer before Deputy Weaver reappeared.
“All clear,” he told her.
Nodding, Faith started for the house, but Deputy Weaver placed a restraining hand on her arm. “Do you have family in the area?” he asked.
Faith nodded again. “My son, Scott, is on his way.”
“Then I’d recommend you wait until he can accompany you inside,” the deputy said.
She didn’t understand. “But why? You said whoever did this isn’t in the house anymore.”
The deputy paused. “I don’t believe this is something you’d want to see by yourself,” he said. “I can go in with you, too….”
Faith had trouble taking in his words. “You mean…the damage is extensive?”
“You’ll need to judge that for yourself.”
“Oh.” Faith didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against you?” the deputy asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, taken aback by his question. “I’ve only been living in the area for a couple of months. This is a rental. I…I didn’t want to inconvenience my son and his family by living with them while I searched for a house to buy.”
Deputy Weaver nodded thoughtfully.
“Why?” she asked anxiously.
His gaze was sympathetic. “I’m sorry to say it, but this looks personal.”
“Personal? My goodness, it can’t be! I lived in Cedar Cove years and years ago, but I don’t know many people here these days. I’m working at the medical clinic and, well…” Faith stopped in midsentence when she saw Troy Davis’s vehicle.
He pulled up and parked beh
ind Deputy Weaver, then climbed out of his car. It took every bit of her self-control not to rush toward him.
Troy’s eyes immediately sought hers. Despite her best efforts, Faith started to tear up. She hadn’t seen him since before Christmas, and in that time she’d struggled hard to cast memories of him out of her mind. Her success had been limited. Whole days would pass when she hardly thought of him. That was progress, and yet the first person she’d wanted to turn to in this crisis had been Troy.
Deputy Weaver stepped forward; he and Troy spoke briefly. Then the deputy ambled over to the house next door and Troy started walking toward her.
“Are you all right?” Troy asked, quickly assessing her.
She lowered her eyes rather than reveal how glad she was to see him. “I…I don’t know yet.” Somehow she managed a feeble smile that probably didn’t fool him.
“Does Scott know?”
“I…I called him right away. He’s the one who told me to contact emergency services. He said he was leaving the office.”
“Good.”
“He won’t get here for another ten minutes, though.”
“Would you rather wait for him or would you like me to do a walk-through of the house with you now?”
It must be bad. “Would you come with me?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
He clasped her elbow and together they headed toward the door off the kitchen. “I guess it’s a terrible mess.” The deputy’s reaction had implied as much.
As if touching her was a painful reminder that they’d severed their relationship, Troy dropped his hand. Trying to hide the bereft feeling that came over her, Faith opened the narrow closet next to the laundry and reached for the broom.
“I suggest we take a look at the damage before you attempt any cleanup.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
He walked into the living room, and when she followed him in, Faith gasped. It was as though a cyclone had gone through, leaving its devastation behind. The furniture was toppled and yellow spray paint had been blasted across her piano and bookcase.
Most distressing of all was what they’d done to the family photos displayed along the fireplace mantel. Shocked, Faith covered her mouth with both hands.
“This has to be personal,” Troy muttered. He reached for the picture of Scott and his wife and children. Each face had an X through it, drawn in bright red ink. The photo of Faith’s daughter, Jay Lynn, and her family, had received the same treatment. But a photograph of her late husband, Carl, had come in for the most brutal destruction. His image had been utterly blotted out.
“Who would do such a thing?” Faith cried.
“Have you argued with anyone lately?” Troy asked.
That was basically the same question Deputy Weaver had asked and the answer hadn’t changed. “No…”
“Think, Faith,” Troy insisted. “Whoever’s responsible for this—and it could be more than one person—is trying to hurt you.”
“In that case,” she snapped, “they’ve succeeded.”
“I’m so sorry this happened.” Troy’s words were gentle, kind. For a moment it looked as if he wanted to take her in his arms.
Weak and vulnerable as she felt just then, Faith would gladly have slipped into his embrace. She would’ve welcomed the comfort he offered, the reassurance that, in his arms, she was safe and secure.
Thankfully he remembered that they weren’t a couple anymore, and that his touch was no longer appropriate. He dropped his arm and took a small step in retreat.
“What about the bedroom?” Faith asked in an effort to disguise the uncertainty of her resolve.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Troy asked.
Would anyone be? “I…I’ll need to face it sooner or later.”
“True.” Again he led the way.
They were forced to step over drawers that had been dragged into the hallway, over chair cushions and books and lamps—and what appeared to be every piece of clothing she owned. It seemed as though the contents of her entire home had been emptied in the hallway.
When she saw her bedroom and the chaos there, tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t stand to look at any more. With a sob, she turned and hurried out of the room.
Anger surged through her. She couldn’t imagine who’d done this. Whoever it was wanted to disrupt the peace and serenity she’d worked so hard to achieve since moving to Cedar Cove.
“Can you tell if anything’s been taken?” Troy asked. She suspected he was trying to distract her from all the wreckage.
She walked into the living room and took several deep breaths. “No…not yet.” The knowledge that this might be more than vandalism upset her all over again. Whoever had broken in had probably taken whatever valuables they could find.
Why target her? Faith didn’t own more than a few pieces of expensive jewelry, some of which she was wearing. The other pieces—her wedding band and the pearls that had been her mother’s—were tucked away in a safety-deposit box at the bank.
“Is anything obvious missing?” he continued.
She shook her head.
“First thing I want you to do is get a new lock,” Troy said, examining the front door. “Make it a dead bolt. Consider an alarm system, too.”
“I’ll look into it.” His suggestion kept her from dwelling on what had happened, but not for long.
“My family,” she whispered. She stared at the photographs of her children and grandchildren. “Are they safe?”
Troy shrugged uncomfortably. “My guess is this is a scare tactic.”
“But why?”
Troy’s face creased in a dark frown. “I can’t answer that. I wish I could tell you, but I can’t.”
“I want to know why…”
“I do, too,” he said, “and I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to find whoever’s responsible.”
That was fine, but Faith’s biggest concern remained her family. “Why would anyone cross out their faces? I won’t be able to sleep at night if there’s any chance my grandchildren might be at risk…. It’s all because of me,” she said in a rush. “What could I have possibly done to deserve this?”
Troy took her by the shoulders and his hold was all that kept her from collapsing.
“Faith, listen,” he said, sounding stern and official. “Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll schedule patrol cars to drive past your place and Scott’s, too. I don’t want you to worry, understand?”
It was almost more than she could do to nod in simple acknowledgment.
“Mom!” She heard Scott’s voice coming from the front porch.
When she didn’t immediately answer, Troy spoke on her behalf. “We’re inside the house,” he called out. Releasing her, he moved toward the door and opened it.
Scott charged into the house and did a double take. He was struck silent, his eyes wide with shock and dismay. Once he’d recovered, he turned to Troy to supply answers, the same way Faith had moments earlier.
Faith reached out to her son. She was close to both her children and her grandchildren, too, but refused to be a burden to them. Her independence meant everything, and she was determined to preserve it. After Carl’s death, she’d adjusted to being a widow, rambling around that large Seattle house on her own. Now she’d come back to Cedar Cove, but as much as possible, she still took care of whatever needed attention without calling her children for assistance.
So far she’d managed well, but this…this monster who’d invaded her home had overturned more than her furniture, he’d unsettled her entire world and destroyed her peace of mind.
“Deputy Weaver’s talking to the neighbors,” Troy said. “I’ll check with him and see if he has any information.”
“Whoever did this came through the front door?” Scott asked incredulously. He slid one arm around Faith’s shoulders. She was grateful for his support.
“It appears that way,” Troy answered.
“In broad daylight? Wasn’t anyone on the street hom
e?”
Faith looked up. “The Vesseys are in Arizona for the winter and…and—” she faltered a bit “—everyone else on the block is either at work or at school.”
“Will you be okay?” Troy asked, his eyes revealing his reluctance to leave. But now that Scott had arrived, there was no reason for him to stay. He’d done his duty. No, he’d gone above and beyond anything duty required.
Calling on all her strength—and an acting ability she hadn’t known she possessed—Faith reassured him with a smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Troy. It…it meant a great deal that you came yourself.”
He touched the brim of his hat and, with a nod in Scott’s direction, turned and walked out the door.
Three
Olivia Griffin spooned up the last of her soup and set the empty bowl in the kitchen sink. The homemade tomato basil was one of her favorites and her mother made sure she had an abundant supply every week. Jack would be pleased that she’d finished her lunch. She’d received her first chemotherapy treatment the previous week and it had gone better than she’d expected.
But then her expectations hadn’t been optimistic. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer a few months before, Olivia had been afraid her life was almost over. To say the news had shocked her was putting it mildly. She’d always eaten properly, exercised regularly and taken all the recommended vitamins.
The important lesson she’d learned about cancer was that the disease wasn’t fair; for that matter, life wasn’t fair. And at her age, that was something she certainly should’ve known. Did know. Losing one of her children at thirteen, the failure of her first marriage… But somehow, she’d foolishly come to believe she could control her body, her health, if she did the right things. That loss of control was difficult to accept, yet she had no choice. She was a woman who rigorously managed her environment—no clutter in her house. She realized she’d become more that way after Jordan’s death.
She’d taken a leave from her position as a family court judge and was gearing up, both emotionally and physically, for the treatments scheduled during the next three months. She knew some people worked through their chemo, but everyone had urged her not to. “Give yourself a break,” Jack said, and so she had.