Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series

  “A son,” Ian whispered. “A son.”

  Eleven

  This was moving day. Linnette’s brother had been a real help. He’d arrived at her Seattle apartment early Saturday morning with Lucky, his Australian Shepherd, and a couple of his friends who were volunteer firefighters with Mack. The only stuff left to move was her furniture and a few of the heavier boxes. Linnette had already taken over what she could, a little at a time, but the larger items required a truck, which she’d rented.

  “I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate this,” Linnette told her brother after he and his friends had loaded up the truck. Bryan and Drew were carrying down the dining room chairs. Her roommate had left a month earlier, and the place was now completely empty.

  “No problem,” Mack said. He’d stayed behind. Now he wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m glad I can help. I’m hoping the two of us will have a chance to talk later.”

  Before Linnette could reply, Bryan stepped back into the room. “You ready to head out?” he asked. He seemed eager to get going. Drew followed him inside, chanting, “Hey, hey, hey. We’re on our way.”

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” Mack told them.

  “We’ll find a chance to talk,” Linnette promised.

  “Good. Maybe after we’ve unloaded the big stuff, we can chat and then I’ll drive the truck back to the rental place.” It cost less to rent the vehicle if it was returned to the original location. Mack had graciously agreed to deliver it to Seattle for his sister.

  Just as efficiently as he and his friends had loaded the U-Haul, they unpacked it, carted everything up the one flight of outdoor stairs and set her sofa, chair, lamp, coffee table and television in her small living room. Her bed and mattress, dresser and nightstand went into the larger of the two bedrooms. Her desk, chair and computer, which she’d carefully boxed, were in the second room. Eventually Linnette planned to add a sleeper-sofa and maybe a small work table. She wanted to start doing crafts again, which was something she hadn’t had time for while she was in school. The dining room table was a Salvation Army find, but it was pretty battered and Linnette hoped to replace it soon. With a regular income she’d have a few more options.

  When Mack and his friends were finished, Linnette treated them to take-out hamburgers, fries and cold drinks. As soon as they’d wolfed those down, Drew and Bryan were on their way back to Seattle, with Linnette’s fervent thanks ringing in their ears.

  Mack sat on her sofa, leaned forward and set his wadded burger wrapper on her coffee table. Lucky, well-behaved dog that she was, had stayed obediently out of everyone’s way and now rested at his side. As if gathering his thoughts, her brother waited a moment, then looked at Linnette. “Do you know what’s going on with Mom and Dad?” he asked.

  Her brother was astute, she’d give him that. “What makes you think anything’s going on?” She was interested in how he’d picked up on this so quickly. As far as Linnette knew, he wasn’t in regular communication with their parents.

  “Mom’s been phoning me every Sunday afternoon. It’s gotten to be like clockwork. She hadn’t said anything outright, but just recently, I’d say in the last couple of weeks, she’s made some remarks that don’t add up.”

  “Like what?”

  Mack hesitated. “For one thing, she casually mentioned that if anything were to happen to Dad, I should never doubt his love for me. I asked her if Dad was sick or there was something I should know, but she claimed there wasn’t. I don’t think she’d lie to me, but I’m pretty sure she’s not telling me the whole truth.”

  “Go on,” Linnette encouraged. Her brother had good instincts and she wondered how much information he’d been able to glean.

  “Every time Mom phones, she assures me everything’s fine. So, after a while, I started to think I might be imagining things.”

  “You aren’t,” Linnette was quick to tell him, and then went on to describe the postcards her parents had received.

  “They aren’t threatening?” Mack asked, frowning.

  “I can’t say for sure,” Linnette said. “The only one I saw said, ‘Are you thinking yet?’”

  “About what?”

  “According to Mom, Dad assumes this has something to do with his work on the police force.”

  “Some criminal he put away?” Mack speculated.

  “Perhaps someone who has a vendetta against Dad. Whoever’s doing this seems intent on psychologically wearing him down.”

  “That won’t work,” Mack said with a slow grin. “If this person wants to torment our father, all he needs to do is grow his hair long, refuse to play football, drop out of college and take a job at the post office. That’s enough to send the mighty Roy McAfee over the edge.”

  Linnette laughed, noticing anew what an attractive man her brother was. His build was similar to their father’s, but as far as his looks went, he took after Grandpa Wilson, their mother’s father.

  “Do you think they’re in any real danger?” Mack asked seriously.

  “I don’t know. I’ve tried to get Mom to tell me how long this has been going on, but she doesn’t want to worry me. The fact that she won’t talk about it concerns me more. I told her that, and she got all teary and said Dad’s been completely unreasonable.”

  “That’s unusual?” Mack teased.

  Linnette shook her head, smiling. “Apparently there’s been more than the postcards.” She sat down on the sofa beside her brother and stroked Lucky’s head. “Mom said something about a fruit basket being delivered.”

  “They didn’t eat any of it, did they?”

  “I don’t know what they did with it. I assume they threw it away. That one really freaked Mom out.”

  “I can imagine. I wonder if it’s part of this person’s method. You know, kill them with kindness, confuse the enemy—and then move in with the real agenda.”

  Linnette hadn’t thought of it that way. “You and Dad might not get along, but you’re more alike than you realize.”

  Mack cringed. “Don’t tell me that. The last person in the world I want to be like is my father.”

  “He’s not so bad,” Linnette felt obliged to tell him. “And neither are you. One of these days, the two of you will come to an understanding.”

  “Maybe,” Mack said doubtfully. “I hope we do, but I’m not holding my breath.”

  A polite knock sounded at Linnette’s door. Lucky was suddenly alert; she gave one brief bark and stared intently.

  Brother and sister glanced at each other, and then Linnette went to the door. A woman, dressed in a brown sheriff’s uniform, stood on the other side, holding a small pot of bronze chrysanthemums.

  “Hello, I’m your neighbor, Gloria Ashton,” she said as she handed Linnette the plant.

  “Linnette McAfee,” she said, admiring the rich color of the chrysanthemums. “Mom told me everyone in Cedar Cove is friendly. This is just so nice. Please come in.” She stood aside so Gloria could step into her apartment. Linnette gestured toward her brother. “Gloria, this is my brother, Mack. Mack, this is my next-door neighbor, Gloria Ashton.”

  Mack released the dog’s collar, then stood and offered Gloria his hand. She took a step forward and extended her own. “This is Lucky,” he said. The dog waved her plumy tail, then returned to her place by the couch.

  “I’m two doors down in apartment 216. I saw your brother and a couple of other guys bringing in the furniture. I thought I’d stop by on my way to work and introduce myself. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I wasn’t sure when I’d get another opportunity.”

  “You’re with the sheriff’s office here?” Linnette asked. Gloria stood with her feet braced slightly apart, hands on her belt. She was short, petite, dark-haired; her uniform fit as if it’d been especially designed for her. The belt that held her weapon and other paraphernalia only emphasized her femininity.

  Gloria shook her head in response to Linnette’s question. “I’m with the Bremerton office. I’ve been in the area a li
ttle less than a year.”

  Mack stared at her and narrowed his eyes, as if he was trying to place her. “You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

  Gloria studied him, frowning, and then shook her head again. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Mack shrugged. “I guess not. I don’t visit often, but when I do I always drive the speed limit.”

  “Yeah, right.” Linnette snickered and her brother elbowed her in the ribs.

  “You don’t live in Cedar Cove?” Gloria asked.

  “Too close to family,” he muttered. “They cramp my style.” He laughed at his own weak joke and sat down.

  “Could you join us for a few minutes?” Linnette asked. “I apologize—I can’t offer you anything to drink. I haven’t been to the grocery store yet.”

  “I have to go, but thanks, anyway.” Gloria checked her watch. “I thought this would be a good time to welcome you to the complex. If you have any questions about the town, I’ll be happy to try and answer them.”

  “That would be great,” Linnette told her. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

  “I hope you do.” After a few parting words, Gloria was gone.

  Linnette waited until the door closed before she turned on her brother. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” Linnette mimicked. “Honestly, Mack, that’s the oldest pickup line in the world.”

  “I wasn’t trying to pick her up.”

  “Mack, you couldn’t have been more obvious.”

  “Well, she is cute.”

  “Oh, please. You’re so lame.”

  “Me? This is the thanks I get for giving up an entire Saturday to help my sister?”

  “Okay, you’re right. Sorry. If you’re interested in Gloria, let me know and I’ll see what I can do to set you up—since you’re currently footloose and fancy-free.”

  Mack raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Sure. But the truth is, she does look familiar.”

  Twelve

  Saturday night, Allison Cox was roused from a sound sleep by a tap on her bedroom window. Her clock told her it was almost three. She turned on the small light on her bed stand, tossed aside her down comforter and hurried to the window. Opening the blinds, she peered outside and gasped when Anson smiled at her.

  “Let me in,” he mouthed.

  She’d be in big trouble if her parents ever found out about this. Although the temptation was almost overpowering, she shook her head. “I can’t.”

  He nodded vigorously and rubbed his bare hands together. Then he hunched his shoulders, as if to ward off the wind. His eyes pleaded with her.

  “Anson, no.” She shook her head again, trying to convince herself.

  He paused, waited a moment and then turned around, not hiding his disappointment.

  His willingness to walk away was her undoing. He’d been so good to her, so gentle and sweet. The first time they’d kissed, his goatee had bothered her and the next time she saw him, he’d shaved it off. Allison had been moved by his thoughtfulness. He cared about her more than any other guy ever had. In fact, she liked him a lot—more than she should. Her parents had no idea how often they saw each other because she hid their relationship as much as she could. Even Cecilia had voiced her concern about Anson, and she hadn’t even met him. But Allison knew he wasn’t what he appeared to be. The clothes and attitude were all for show.

  Twice now he’d come over in the evenings, and he’d been respectful to her mother and father. That had earned him brownie points with her dad.

  “Oh, all right,” she acquiesced and grabbed her housecoat. She threw it over her pajamas, then slid open the window. Leaving him out in the cold was more than she could bear.

  Anson crawled into her bedroom, landing on his feet with a solid thump. Thank goodness for her plush carpet, which absorbed much of the sound. His face was red from the cold, and his lips were chapped. He wore his signature black coat, a knit cap pulled low over his ears. His hands were bare. Smiling at her in the dim room, he let his eyes soften and leaned toward her, his mouth shaping hers in a long, hungry kiss. His face felt chilled and his lips, too.

  Allison broke off the kiss and clutched her housecoat tighter around her. “What are you doing here?” she asked in an urgent whisper. “Do you know what time it is?”

  Anson sat on the carpet, his back against the side of the bed. Allison knelt beside him. “I shouldn’t have come,” he whispered. “It was wrong, I know, but…” He looked down, unable to meet her gaze.

  “No, it’s all right,” she said and reached for his hands, warming them between her own. His coat had a peculiar smell. It was as if he’d been standing next to a bonfire and the smoke had clung to him. “What are you doing out at this time of night?”

  He kept his head lowered. “I can’t involve you in this.”

  “In what, Anson? You can’t involve me in what?” She touched his face, pressing her warm palm to his cheek and was shocked again at how cold his skin was.

  Anson covered her hand with his own, then slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck and brought her mouth back to his. His kiss was demanding, desperate.

  “We can’t do this here…now,” she said, as quietly as she could. It would be easy to let him keep touching her, kissing her, but her father was a light sleeper and the risk was too great. Besides, something was terribly wrong. She felt it, saw it in Anson’s eyes, a wildness that frightened her—and yet she didn’t feel she could desert him.

  Once more Anson looked down, avoiding her gaze.

  “Tell me what happened,” she insisted. “Where have you been?”

  His voice was barely audible. “The park.”

  “I thought it was closed. How’d you get in?”

  His mouth twisted in a half smile. “All they have is a gate. It’s easy enough to jump over that.”

  “Who were you with?” She should’ve realized a gate across the entrance wasn’t going to lock anyone out, least of all Anson and his friends.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “Who?” she asked again.

  “I was alone, okay?”

  A siren pierced the night and Anson scrambled to his knees, crawled close to the window and peered out. “Anson?” Dread wormed its way into her stomach. “What’s going on?”

  Again he refused to answer as he crawled back to where she knelt.

  “There’s a fire?”

  He hesitated and then nodded.

  “Does it have anything to do with you?”

  He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice trembled. “Yes.”

  “Oh, my gosh.” She covered her mouth with both hands as she tried to take in what he was telling her.

  “I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident. My mother’s got some friend at the house,” he said scornfully, “and I can’t stand to be around when she has a sleepover.” He couldn’t seem to look at her. “The walls between our rooms are thin. I can hear everything.”

  He didn’t need to say any more for her to understand why he had to leave.

  He seemed to think Allison would be angry with him and when she wasn’t, he added, “I just had to get out.”

  “So you went to the park?”

  He nodded. “It’s cold and I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Everything began to add up. “You…started a fire?”

  “I was looking for a way to keep warm.” He rubbed his hand down his face. “I thought I’d make a campfire, you know, but I’m no Boy Scout. I must’ve done something wrong, because the wind picked up and before I knew it the flames caught—near the maintenance hut.”

  “Is that what’s on fire?”

  Anson bit his lower lip. “There must’ve been some gasoline on the ground or something, because it practically exploded. I tried to put it out, but I couldn’t. Then I got scared. The flames were too hot, so I ran. I should’ve stayed, should’ve found a pay phone and called the fire department. There isn’t one in the p
ark.”

  Allison’s heart pounded hard as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Anson had come to her; he needed her. They talked every day and hung out at school together. She was crazy about him, but her teachers, her friends, even Cecilia, thought he was wrong for her. Her parents were leery, too, but they’d let Anson come to the house for dinner twice. She and Anson even went to the library and studied together. Allison didn’t believe that caring about someone this much could be wrong.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  He hung his head. “I don’t know.”

  In that case, she did. “I’m going to wake up my dad.”

  “No!” His response was automatic.

  “My dad will know what to do,” she argued. “He won’t come down on you if you’re honest with him. He’s fair, Anson.”

  He still looked uncertain. “Maybe…maybe that fire wasn’t as much of an accident as I said.”

  Shocked, Allison sat back on her heels. “What?”

  He glanced away and she saw that his hands had started to tremble. “I didn’t mean for it to get out of control like that,” he whispered.

  “You set the shed on fire on purpose? You mean it wasn’t an accident?”

  His nod was barely perceptible. “Your dad will want to take me to the sheriff’s office. Allison, I can’t. I’m almost eighteen. The prosecutor might decide to try me as an adult.”

  A sick feeling invaded the pit of her stomach, but she’d learned that the best way to attack a problem was head-on. She didn’t have any reassurances to give him. “They might, but I’ll be with you.”

  “Your dad won’t let you have anything to do with me if I tell him what I did.”

  Allison already knew this was a risk. “I know, but that’s a chance we have to take. My dad’s fair and he’ll respect you for being honest. He’ll do what he can to help you.”

  “Why would he?”

  Allison straightened her shoulders and brought her hand to his cheek. “Because his daughter cares what happens to you.”

  Anson’s eyes locked onto hers. “You do?”