Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (36 page)

“Wanna bet?”

Grace shook her head. “Maybe not.”

At that they both smiled and lapsed into a companionable silence.

The year before, Grace had been terribly afraid she'd lose Olivia to cancer. She hadn't, and Olivia's prognosis was good. Her bout with cancer had taught both of them many lessons, but none as profound as the knowledge that nothing would ever stand between them. Their friendship was for life, in every sense of those words.

Thirty-Three

M
egan was beginning to look pregnant, Troy thought. He'd stopped by the house after work on Wednesday afternoon because he had an important favor to ask.

“It won't be much longer before you'll need to wear maternity tops,” he said when she let him into the house.

A sweet smile lit up her face. “Do you think so, Daddy?”

“I do.” He felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of his first grandchild's birth.

“I noticed this morning that it's getting difficult to zip up my pants. Look.” She turned sideways and placed one hand beneath the barely discernible roundness of her belly.

“Yup, you're pregnant, all right.” How Troy wished Sandy had lived to hold this baby…

“I have a favor to ask you,” he said, all business now.

“Anything, Daddy, you know that.”

He followed Megan into the kitchen, where she'd just started dinner preparations. Craig, who worked as an engineer at the navy shipyard, wasn't home yet, but he would be soon. “I want Faith to spend the night with you.”

His daughter didn't hesitate. “Of course. I love Faith.” Then, frowning slightly, Megan said, “She can't stay with her son?”

“Scott's kids are on spring break and he took the family to Disneyland.”

“Oh, heavens, you know Faith's always welcome.”

This would be more than a simple visit. “Is the bed in your spare room made up?”

Megan nodded. “I hope you don't mind me asking why.”

“I want her safe.”

His daughter, who'd been stirring spaghetti sauce, instantly looked up. “Safe from what?”

Safe from
whom
was more accurate. “I'm going to spend the night at her house. I have cause to believe the intruder may come back tonight—if it's the person I think it is.” He'd been giving the pattern of the break-ins a lot of thought. The man he'd become convinced was the intruder had been spotted in town by one of his deputies that afternoon. On at least one other occasion—the day Faith's tires were slashed—he'd been sighted at the biker bar on the edge of town.

“It's a long story.”

“I've got time.” Her eyes, so like Sandy's, sparkled with interest.

“Unfortunately, I don't. I'll explain everything later, okay?”

From the way she compressed her lips, Troy knew his daughter didn't like being kept in the dark, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“Dad, I know you mean well, but I'm pretty sure Faith will insist on staying at her own home. Like I said, she's welcome at our place, but maybe it makes more sense if you stay there. With her.”

Troy deliberated for a moment and decided Megan was probably right. “I haven't discussed this with Faith yet.”

“Oh, Daddy, you should know better. No woman likes a man making decisions for her. Faith has a mind of her own.” She shook her head. “I'm betting she won't agree to this. If I were her, I wouldn't.”

He nodded slowly. What his daughter said made sense.

As they headed back into the living room and toward the front door, Troy heard her mutter something else under her breath.

“What?” he asked impatiently.

“Daddy,” she said, “when are you going to ask Faith to marry you?”

“I—”

“You love her, don't you?”

“Well, yes, and I have every intention of—”

“What are you waiting for?”

Troy grinned. After all these months, his relationship with Faith was finally back on an even keel, and at last there was hope, real hope.

Once again, he acknowledged that Megan was right. He'd be a fool to squander this opportunity. Faith had been his first love, and while he'd loved Sandy with an intensity that couldn't be equaled, he'd never forgotten Faith. A man didn't forget his first love.

“Soon,” he said. “I'll ask her soon.”

“Good.” His daughter hugged him as he left.

Once he got to Faith's house, Troy suggested she spend the night with Megan, and as his daughter had predicted, she was having none of it.

“I'm not leaving my home, Troy, so save your breath.”

Troy shook his head wryly. “Megan told me as much.
But the truth is, you're more of a distraction than a help.”

“Am I now?” The information appeared to please her.

“I don't want to put you in danger's way,” he explained.

“Any more danger than I've already been in?”

Troy could only shrug.

“You can spend the night here,” Faith said.

“The two of us, alone together?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Don't worry about being distracted. I'm not inviting you into my bed.”

He chuckled. “That's a shame.”

She smiled and looked away. “I can't say I'm not tempted, though.”

“You're going to make this impossible,” Troy groaned.

“I won't, I promise,” she said in a serious voice.

“More's the pity.”

“You won't even know I'm here,” Faith told him. “You can settle in and make yourself at home. I'll go about my nightly routine, which is probably what this…person will be watching for. Agreed?”

Troy nodded. “Agreed.”

“Good.”

Troy leaned forward and kissed her with all the hunger and pent-up frustration that had plagued him since she'd moved back to Cedar Cove.

He couldn't speak for Faith, but Troy felt that kiss in every single cell. When they broke apart, she pressed her hand over her heart, gasping. “Oh, Troy…”

He brought her back into his arms. “Shall we do that again?”

Faith cleared her throat. “We'd better not.”

“Maybe you're right. I need to concentrate. I've got
people to phone.” His first call went to a couple of his best deputies.

“We're on,” he said. Weaver and Johnson had parked a dark unmarked vehicle farther down Rosewood Lane and awaited Troy's instructions. His next phone call was to Megan.

“You were right. Faith will remain here with me.”

“I hate to say I told you so.”

“No, you don't,” Troy said. “You love it.” His daughter laughed.

After moving his own vehicle to the next street, Troy walked back to Faith's. With his deputies in place, Troy made himself comfortable, prepared to sit up all night, if necessary. He reclined in the chair in front of the television, while Faith sat across from him, knitting. It was a cozy domestic scene, one he hoped would be repeated many times once they were married.

He remembered Megan's words and wondered if he should ask her right then and there. He opened his mouth, but just as quickly closed it. He should at least give her a ring. He had to do this properly, but he didn't want to wait much longer. This weekend, he told himself.

At ten o'clock Faith yawned.

“You don't need to stay up on my account,” he said.

“You're sure?”

“Positive. Go on to bed. Just promise me that if you hear a scuffle or any activity in this part of the house, you won't come rushing out of your bedroom.”

“But—”

“Faith, please! This is important.”

“All right,” she agreed, although he could tell how worried she was.

It wasn't until after midnight that Troy's hunch proved
to be correct. He was sitting in the pitch-dark living room when he heard a slight commotion near the garage. Not wasting a moment, he contacted his deputies and had them surround the area.

“Troy?” Faith whispered from the hallway. “Did you hear that?”

Apparently she was a light sleeper or hadn't been to sleep at all.

“Go back to your room and stay put,” he said, not hiding his annoyance. He enunciated each word as distinctly as he could, keeping his voice low.

She didn't respond.

“Did you hear me?” he asked more loudly.

“Fine, fine. I'm on my way,” she muttered. “I never knew you were so bossy.”

Maybe he was but Troy refused to take any chances with her safety. He was the one paid to take risks, not Faith.

A louder commotion broke out in the garage, and Deputy Weaver gave a shout. Troy ran for the back door and opened it just in time to see a man dressed completely in black dash across the side yard.

Troy was long past his physical prime, but, junk food aside, he kept in shape. Racing after the man, he tackled him, landing hard on the wet grass. Weaver, who was directly behind him, grabbed the intruder by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to his feet. Troy slapped on the handcuffs he'd kept attached to his belt.

Deputy Johnson shined a flashlight into their prisoner's face and Troy instantly recognized the man who'd been the source of all this trouble. He felt a sense of satisfaction.

“Take him to the station,” Troy said after Deputy Johnson had read the perpetrator his legal rights.

The two deputies led him away while Troy brushed off his uniform. He was getting way too old to be chasing felons, but he wasn't about to let this one escape.

He returned to the house, turning on the kitchen light. “It's safe for you to come out now,” he called.

Faith hurried in, wearing her housecoat. “Troy—oh, my goodness, what happened?” Without waiting for him to answer, she opened a drawer, retrieved a towel and dampened one corner. Standing close, she dabbed at his mouth.

“What?” He was surprised to realize he was bleeding. He hadn't felt a thing.

“You got him?” she asked.

Troy nodded. “Sure did.”

Faith pulled out a chair and they both sat down. Her hands were trembling, and he reached for them, chafing warmth back into her cold skin.

“Did you recognize him?”

“I did.”

“Who is it?” she asked. “And why does this person hate me so much?”

“His name is Mark Schaffer.”

A puzzled look appeared on her face. “Who? I've never heard of him before. What could I possibly have done to make him target me?”

“This isn't about you, Faith. I should've seen that much sooner. This has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

Faith stared at him in confusion. “I don't understand.”

“I haven't got all the answers myself, but I'll tell you what I think happened and why.”

“Please.” Her eyes implored him to make sense of it all.

“Schaffer was a friend of Dale and Pam Smith, who were the tenants before you. While they were living here,
my office received a number of complaints about them. I spoke to Schaffer personally on several occasions. He's involved with drugs and hangs out with a rough crowd.”

“But…he eventually moved away.”

“I don't think it was by choice. I can't say for sure exactly how they did it, but I believe Cliff Harding and Jack Griffin persuaded the Smiths and their gang, including Mark, to leave. They hadn't paid rent in months and they were bringing undesirables into the neighborhood. Grace was afraid that if she evicted them, they'd trash the house.”

“And you figure Cliff and Jack convinced them to move?”

“True. But I don't know how.” He gave her a half smile. “You'll have to ask Grace about that and, when you find out, don't tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“My guess is that Mark, or one of his cronies, left a stash of drugs behind in their rush to vacate the premises. He's been coming back looking for that. Most likely drugs, but it could be money or something else of value. I assume it's hidden somewhere in the garage, seeing he's targeted that area.”

“But he broke into the house first.”

“Either he doesn't remember exactly where he hid his stash or whatever it is—or he was hoping to get you to move so he'd have time to search after you left. When you didn't turn tail and run, he had to take his chances, which is why he returned to the house. Then you got the alarm system and he was limited to the garage.”

“It's over, then.” The relief in her voice was evident.

“I believe so. Ironically, I think there's a good possibility that whatever was hidden inadvertently got tossed out when Grace and Cliff had the house cleaned and repainted.”

Troy stood up to leave. The cut on his mouth had started to throb and he needed to get to the station to deal with Schaffer.

She walked him to the front door, but stopped him before he could open it.

“You're safe now,” he assured her.

“I know,” she whispered, then gently caressed his face.

He caught her hand and held it to his cheek. Every instinct he had told him to stay.

She smiled at him. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, careful not to touch the injury. He could feel the swelling in his lip but it didn't impede their kiss.

Troy stepped back to keep himself from pulling her into his arms and kissing her the way he had earlier.

He released her, reluctant to let her go. “We need to talk. Soon.”

“I agree.” There was a warmth in her eyes, an openness in her expression.

As he walked away, he noticed that the pain he'd felt just moments earlier had disappeared.

Thirty-Four

G
loria Ashton sat in her patrol car with the radar gun in her hand. This spot on Harbor Street was notorious for speeders. Writing tickets was the least favorite aspect of her job, but a necessary one. As the most recently hired deputy, she had her dues to pay. She hoped it wouldn't be long before she had the opportunity to work directly with Sheriff Davis, the way Weaver and Johnson had on Wednesday night.