311 Pelican Court (21 page)

W
hat had seemed such a brilliant plan earlier was rapidly becoming a problem, Zach mused at his desk. School had resumed after Christmas vacation, and Allison had started working for Smith, Cox and Jefferson today. She seemed to take pride in dressing outrageously—in a manner guaranteed to embarrass him with his associates. Zach was somewhat horrified that she’d gone to school looking like she’d just climbed out of bed, complete with flannel pajama bottoms and bedroom slippers. In his day, no principal would’ve put up with it.

Allison arrived thirty minutes late with a chain of safety pins dangling from each ear. He’d had to fight to keep from dragging her into the parking lot and telling her the deal was off. If she wanted to work in his office, she was to show up on time and dress appropriately. He would’ve done it, too, but he hated to fire his own daughter her first day on the job.

Zach decided he shouldn’t get directly involved. When he’d offered Allison employment, he’d told her she was to be an assistant to Cecilia Randall, and he was standing by that.

As soon as he had a free moment, Zach called Cecilia and Allison into his office.

Allison stood there, wearing an old sweater three sizes too big over the pajamas. He could only imagine where she’d gotten it. Cecilia and all the other women employed in the office wore proper business attire.

“Allison, this is Ms. Randall. You’ll be working with her.”

Allison glared defiantly in Cecilia’s direction.

Cecilia ignored the dirty look and smiled warmly at his daughter.

“I’ve offered Allison the job as your assistant, Ms. Randall,” he said, doing his best to ignore his daughter’s attitude. “I want you to treat her exactly as you would any other part-time employee.”

“I don’t want any favors,” Allison announced.

Cecilia nodded. “That’s good because it wouldn’t be fair to the others if I treated you any differently.”

Zach didn’t know if handing his problem child over to his assistant was going to work. Cecilia was a new employee herself. She’d fit in nicely with the staff and done an impressive job thus far. But he wasn’t sure she was up to dealing with his rebellious, angry teenager. No one could take Allison’s attitude for long, and he felt guilty about thrusting her on an unsuspecting employee.

“In other words, I have to do what
she
says,” Allison muttered with a disparaging glance at Cecilia.

“Only if you want to keep the job,” Zach returned, letting Cecilia know she had firing privileges. If Allison pulled any more stunts like the ones she had this afternoon, he wouldn’t be able to keep her around.

“Is that agreeable?” he asked Cecilia.

His assistant nodded.

“Allison?”

His daughter shrugged. “Whatever.”

The two left his office, and despite a vague sense of guilt, Zach was glad to shift the responsibility elsewhere. The door started to close but not before he heard Allison taunt his assistant.

“You can fire me if you want, Ms. Randall, but remember, my dad is the one who signs your paycheck.”

Zach shut his eyes and prayed for patience.

The first week was the worst. By the middle of the month, however, Zach noticed several small changes in Allison, beginning with her timely arrival at work. And while she wasn’t going to receive any fashion awards, she wore jeans and a respectable-looking sweatshirt. He was tempted to say something when he saw her, but knew it would be a mistake to call attention to the improvement in her attire.

“Would you like me to start making copies of the completed income tax forms?” Zach heard Allison ask Cecilia as he walked out of his office. His daughter completely ignored him, but he was accustomed to that.

“Please,” Cecilia told her. “I’ve got a stack halfway to the ceiling.”

“I’ll get on it right away.” Moving quickly and efficiently, Allison hauled the first stack of files to the copy machine.

If Zach didn’t know better, he’d think… Why, it sounded as though Allison was eager to work. She actually seemed enthusiastic about her job.

Rosie noticed a change in Allison, too, and mentioned it when he saw her one Sunday afternoon toward the end of January. “What happened?” she asked, astonished.

“I wish I knew,” Zach murmured. Allison continued to display plenty of attitude at home, but some of the more pressing problems seemed to have abated. Her boyfriend, Ryan Wilson, had apparently vanished. Zach hadn’t seen
the boy in weeks, for which he was profoundly grateful. Allison’s questionable new friends hadn’t been around all month, either. To top everything off, her geometry teacher phoned and commented on a noticeable improvement in her grades and attitude.

“I guess earning the money to buy her own computer is exactly what Allison needed.” Rosie relaxed, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You know what? I think what you did is absolutely inspired.”

His ex-wife’s praise felt good, especially after all the tension between them in recent months. However, Zach wasn’t comfortable accepting it. “I suspect we both have someone else to thank for the changes in Allison—someone at the office. Let me find out.”

“All right.” Rosie was just as eager to learn who or what had brought about the change in Allison.

Zach knew the person to ask. Early the next morning, he called Cecilia Randall into his office. Tax season was starting and soon he’d be overwhelmed.

“Can you sit down a moment?” Zach said, gesturing her in.

“Of course.” Cecilia slipped into the chair across from his desk.

“I’d like a progress report on Allison.”

Cecilia instantly brightened. “I’m delighted with her performance. She doesn’t have any problem doing whatever I ask and her attitude is great.”

That fact hadn’t escaped Zach’s notice. “How did all of this happen?” He hadn’t meant to be that blunt, but he didn’t have time to ask discreet questions; he needed to know.

“Happen?”

He nodded. “You saw her that first day. She was an inch short of belligerent.”

His assistant glanced down at the floor and Zach realized she was trying to hide a smile. “She’s a very nice girl,” Cecilia assured him. “I’m not having any trouble with her.”

“That was the way I used to think about Allison,” Zach said. “But everything changed after my wife and I divorced.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Allison mentioned the divorce?” As far as he knew, his daughter considered the whole matter “bogus”—one of her current favorite words—and refused to discuss it.

“Not exactly.” Cecilia let her hand rest on the tablet she held in her lap. “You see, my parents divorced when I was a kid. I know what it’s like when a family falls apart. Allison just needed someone to talk to.”

Zach yearned to explain that tearing his family apart had never been what
he
wanted. He blamed Rosie for being jealous and unreasonable. In retrospect, he was embarrassed that he’d been so caught up in the negative emotions that had precipitated the divorce and surrounded the whole subject for months. He found it difficult to believe that he and Rosie had haggled over every aspect of the property settlement and the parenting plan. They’d each been so determined to make sure the other didn’t get a “better” deal. That was just the beginning. They were both driven by their need to prove who was right. They’d allowed pride, ego and a sense of vindictiveness to destroy any chance of settling the divorce in a civil manner.

If he’d been able to look into the future, to witness the pain he’d brought his children—if Zach had so much as guessed how lonely and lost he’d feel without Rosie—he’d have done whatever was necessary to save his family and his marriage. Before he realized how far things had gone, it was too late.

Recently, he and Rosie had begun to communicate in a
more honest and more courteous manner. He knew she was dating that widower, although they never talked about it.

However, Zach’s own pride wouldn’t allow him to admit that Janice Lamond no longer worked for him. He’d led Rosie to believe she’d gotten a promotion within the firm. By now, Allison had probably told her mother that Janice wasn’t working there anymore. Rosie must’ve gloated at the news, although to her credit, she hadn’t said anything.

“Will that be all, Mr. Cox?” Cecilia Randall asked.

For a moment he’d forgotten she was in the room.

“Yes, thank you.”

Later that night, Zach drove Allison home. Rosie was spending the night with the children, and the thought of walking into his dark apartment and making dinner held little appeal. Allison sat quietly beside him.

They hardly ever talked these days, and Zach missed their conversations. She’d spurned his attempts so often that after a while he’d given up trying.

“Did you know Cecilia had a baby who died?” his daughter suddenly asked him.

This was news to Zach. “No, when?”

“Almost three years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Zach said, completely sincere.

“She told me all about it. Her husband was at sea and she didn’t have any friends here to help her. It was awful and she decided she couldn’t stay married.”

“Ms. Randall’s been married before?”

“
No
.” Allison’s tone made him sound stupid for asking.

“So she’s still married to the same man?” It wasn’t any of Zach’s business, but he was trying to keep Allison talking. They so rarely spoke without arguing that he didn’t want their conversation to end.

“Cecilia and her husband went to divorce court, the same
as you and Mom. The judge told them they needed to think it through before they rushed into a divorce.”

Zach could hardly believe any judge would say such a thing, especially in these days of no-fault divorce. “Not in those words, I’ll bet.”

“No,” his daughter agreed. “But close. Cecilia said she was pregnant when she and Ian got married and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t marrying her just because of the baby.”

Zach didn’t understand what that had to do with anything. He murmured a noncommittal response, hoping she’d enlighten him.

She did. “Cecilia had him sign an agreement before she’d marry him. Then later, when they were in the court and the judge read the agreement, she wouldn’t let them get rid of it.”

“So this judge gave them a reason to stop and think about what they were doing.”

“Right,” Allison said.

“Smart judge,” Zach said, wishing the one who’d been assigned his divorce suit had shown the same wisdom in dealing with him and Rosie. If someone had stepped in and talked sense to him and his ex, it might have saved his family a lot of grief.

“You know her,” Allison said next.

“Who?” Zach asked as he turned off Harbor Street and headed toward Pelican Court.

“The judge.” The look his daughter flashed him said that should be obvious. “It’s the same judge who was in court with you and Mom.”

“Judge Lockhart?” He supposed he should’ve known; unusual verdicts seemed to be her trademark.

“I think she must be righteous cool.”

Zach barely managed to suppress a smile.
Righteous cool
was something his daughter might’ve said last year. For a
moment, it was almost like having her back again, the girl she’d been before the divorce.

“I like her,” she said, adjusting the seat belt strap to a more comfortable position. “And before you ask, I’m talking about Cecilia, not Judge Lockhart.”

“I know you do.” He would be forever grateful for the way Cecilia had taken his daughter under her wing.

“I didn’t in the beginning, but then she told me what it was like when her parents divorced.” Allison glanced in his direction and sighed. “She was just a kid, too.”

“Bad, huh?”

Allison nodded. “Her dad took off. Her mom didn’t get any child support, either. Cecilia never really knew her dad when she was growing up. He’s the reason she moved to Cedar Cove. She wanted to get to know him, so she got in touch with him once she finished high school. He said he could get her a job, and she came here. She did get a job at the same restaurant where her dad worked, but it wasn’t what she’d expected. By then it was too late to move back home.” Cecilia’s contribution to the firm was valuable—but her relationship with Allison was worth even more to him.

Whatever had brought Cecilia to Cedar Cove, he was grateful she’d come.

“It didn’t work out with her and her dad, though,” Allison said absently.

“How come?”

Allison shrugged. “Sounds like he’s a real flake.”

Zach felt his daughter’s eyes on him. “Am I a flake?”

She shook her head. “You can be, but overall you’re okay, I guess.”

Such overwhelming praise was almost more than he could bear. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Her dad moved to California when The Captain’s Galley
sold. The new owners didn’t offer him a job, which was probably for the best. Cecilia said her dad was drinking up the profits.”

“Oh.” That sounded like a direct quote. “This must’ve been about the time her baby died.”

“Somewhere around then,” his daughter informed him. “Ian was the one who encouraged Cecilia to take accounting classes. That’s her husband, in case you forgot.”

“Good for him.”

“He was at sea, and they were e-mailing back and forth, getting to know each other again.”

“That’s good.” Perhaps if he’d had the opportunity to e-mail Rosie, to correspond with her, they might’ve had the same chance. Somehow, putting words on paper gave a person time to think about what he or she was really saying.

“Cecilia said that the minute she met me, she knew I was special.”

“Why’s that?” He didn’t mean to sound skeptical, but he wanted to know what Cecilia had seen in his daughter. It seemed important to find out.

“Haven’t you been listening?”

Zach had. To every word. “Yes, I have.”

“Because of her baby,” Allison said. “Her baby’s name was Allison, too.”

A
s he walked into the Cedar Cove sheriff’s office, Roy McAfee looked around. The room was full of activity; several men and women sat at desks and a dispatcher handled the switchboard. There was a sense of urgency, of purpose, as deputies—uniformed and not—spoke on the phone, carried on conversations or typed at computers.

Damn it all, this was exactly the atmosphere Roy loved. He wanted to close his eyes, breathe in the scent of stale coffee, the sounds of cops at work. There was an excitement here. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to play an active role in law enforcement and he missed it. Except for the paperwork, he reminded himself. When he was on the force, he’d spent more than half his time filling out forms.

“How ya doing, Roy?” a uniformed woman asked when he approached.

Roy didn’t recognize her. “I’m good. I’m here to see Sheriff Davis.”

She smiled. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Roy had phoned soon after the first of the year, after he’d done everything he could on his end of
the investigation. Today he’d give the sheriff what he’d learned. He liked and trusted Troy Davis; the man was no one’s fool. Roy was walking a tightrope, though. Officially he’d been employed by Grace Sherman and more recently Bob Beldon. His first priority was to look after his clients’ interests. If a crime had been committed, his job was to do everything he could to keep his clients clear of the law.

The female deputy returned. “Sheriff Davis will see you now.”

Roy followed her to the small office. Davis was sitting behind his desk, frowning at something on his computer screen, when Roy entered the room. Troy stood, and the two men exchanged handshakes. Roy took a seat and so did the sheriff.

“What can I do for you?” Troy Davis asked, leaning back in his chair, giving a relaxed impression.

Roy wasn’t deceived. The lawman was intensely interested in his visit. “Like I said when I called, I came to talk to you about the John Doe.”

“You know something I don’t?” Davis asked.

Roy considered the question. “I might.”

“Tell me.”

That, of course, was the reason Roy was here, although he probably wouldn’t share everything he knew, and where he’d gotten his information would remain with him. Davis understood and accepted that, although Roy knew he’d do his best to trick him into revealing his sources.

“During your investigation, did you run into the names Max Russell or Stewart Samuels, by any chance?” Roy asked. Those were the other two men who’d been with Dan Sherman and Bob Beldon in that patrol in Vietnam. Bob had told him how the four had become separated from their squad and stumbled into the village. Four men, four lives,
each marked by that afternoon. Roy had located Samuels, who’d remained in the military and had a distinguished record of service. Of the four, he seemed the least affected by the events in Nam. Russell, however, had lived a troubled life after his release from the army. Like Beldon and Dan Sherman…

“I might have.” Davis leaned across his desk, nudging a stack of files that tilted precariously.

Roy was sure Davis
couldn’t
have heard about the men and had to be bluffing.

Davis riffled through the files until he found the one he wanted and flipped it open. Roy wasn’t surprised that Davis kept the John Doe case file close at hand. The sheriff leafed through it, then raised his eyes to meet Roy’s. “Are you going to tell me where you came up with these names?”

Roy grinned and slid down in his chair, crossing his arms. “No.” He had to protect Bob as much as possible. Even now, he couldn’t be sure of the extent of the other man’s involvement. He wanted to believe Beldon was an innocent bystander, but too many of the dots still didn’t connect.

The sheriff chuckled. “Why did I know you were going to say that?”

Roy didn’t bother to answer.

“Can you tell me why I have the sneaking suspicion either Max Russell or Stewart Samuels is going to be listed as a missing person?”

Making an effort not to look self-righteous, Roy shrugged.

“Help me out a little, if you would,” Troy muttered, turning to face his computer screen. “Can you at least give me a state?”

“I could do that, but I’d hate to see you miss out on the fun of the chase. You might want to start with Russell, though.”

Troy glanced up, frowning darkly.

“California,” Roy said.

“Not Florida?” The dead man’s false ID had given a Florida address. Davis looked surprised as he punched a few keys, stared at the screen and then peered over the top of his reading glasses. “Are you planning to tell me how you got Russell’s name?”

“No.”

Troy exhaled slowly. “This is our John Doe?”

Roy couldn’t be sure of that, but he had his suspicions. “Might be.”

Troy continued to study the screen. “When did you find all this out?”

Roy gave him a halfhearted smile. “A while back. I dug up what I could and now I’ve decided it’s time to bring you into the investigation.”

Davis snorted. “I appreciate that, but I wish you’d come to me sooner.”

Roy still wasn’t a hundred-percent sure he was doing the right thing, as far as Bob or Grace Sherman were concerned, but withholding material information put him at risk of committing a crime himself. In his view, everything revolved around what those four men had done in Vietnam.

Troy tapped his fingers on the desk. “Before I go making an idiot of myself, did you talk to anyone in California?”

“Like who?”

His gaze went back to the computer screen. He did some more typing and glanced at Roy again. “Hannah Russell,” he said. “Says here she’s the one who filed the missing person’s report.” He scrolled down. “Probably the wife.”

“Daughter,” Roy corrected.

“Did you talk to her?” Davis demanded. The friendly pretense was gone now.

“And step into the middle of your investigation, Sheriff?” he asked. “Would I do that?”

“I hope to hell not, but I thought I’d better ask.”

“She’s all yours,” he said. His purpose in making this visit had been achieved. He’d leave the rest in Sheriff Davis’s capable hands. “I don’t suppose you’d like to thank me.”

“No,” Davis barked. “I’d like to know how long you’ve been holding on to this information.”

That wasn’t a question Roy wanted to answer. He’d kept it to himself as long as he dared. If possible, he wanted to keep Dan Sherman’s family out of this.

“Any idea why our John Doe arrived in Cedar Cove carrying false identification?”

“That I can’t tell you,” Roy said. The sheriff would talk to Hannah Russell, and would eventually check out Samuels, too. Roy’s investigation had led him to the other man, who lived in the Washington, D. C. area, but Roy hadn’t contacted him. He’d leave that to Davis, as well.

“What about the reconstructive surgery? I hear some people in town still think it was Dan Sherman. DNA says otherwise.”

“I’d trust what the lab tells you,” Roy said, lost in his thoughts.

“I do, but I’ve heard the rumors.”

Roy had, too. People liked to speculate. It was mighty convenient to believe the dead man could’ve been Dan Sherman, although Roy hadn’t heard much talk of that in recent days.

Roy stood to leave. He’d said everything he intended to and not a word more.

Davis stood, too. “I’ll thank you, then.”

Roy walked out of the office and through the department. He’d thought hard about this visit. He wouldn’t betray Beldon’s trust, but there was certain information he could no
longer withhold. Beldon was the one who’d given him Russell’s and Samuels’s names—and given him permission to tell the sheriff.

Four unsuspecting soldiers had been trapped in a Southeast Asian jungle that day and walked straight into hell. What happened next had forever altered the lives of these men, whose sole desire was to come home alive. They’d seen too many of their friends and comrades leave Vietnam in body bags. To them, at that time, it was kill or be killed. War had changed them, changed their world.

Corrie was waiting when Roy returned to the office. “How’d it go?” she asked.

Roy took off his jacket and hung it on the coat tree in the entry. “About as well as could be expected,” he murmured.

“Does Bob know you’ve talked to Troy Davis?” she asked.

Jack had been looking forward to this Friday night for two weeks. Because of some commitment Olivia had at the courthouse, she was working late today and had agreed to meet him for dinner at The Lighthouse. They hadn’t had a real honest-to-goodness date since before Christmas, and he’d missed her company. Oh, there’d been lots of phone calls, a couple of quick cups of coffee, but they were both busy people with complicated lives.

The newspaper conglomerate, which had bought out the once privately owned paper a few years ago, was investigating the possibility of increasing publication from biweekly to five days a week and eventually taking it to a full seven. While the thought of those extra issues and journalistic opportunities excited him, he wasn’t sure this additional responsibility would be worth the toll it would take on his personal life. A daily paper meant hiring and training extra staff, editorial meetings, more administrative duties.

There was no better way to hook a newsman than offering him more column space. His publisher was well aware of that fact and was using it to his advantage—that and a hefty pay raise. Still, Jack hesitated. As it was, he didn’t see nearly as much of Olivia as he wanted to. He hoped that, someday in the near future, she’d become a permanent part of his life.

“Would you like to be seated now, Mr. Griffin?” the hostess at the restaurant asked him. “I can show Judge Lockhart to your table once she arrives.”

“Sure,” Jack said, impressed that the young woman knew him and Olivia. But then he decided it shouldn’t surprise him. Justine Gunderson and her husband, Seth, owned The Lighthouse, and Justine, after all, was Olivia’s daughter. Besides, his picture appeared in the paper next to his weekly column—a rather flattering photograph if he did say so himself.

The table was one of the best, with a view that overlooked the cove. The marina lights dancing across the water’s surface had a festive quality that cheered him. He could see the naval shipyard on the other side of the cove, too. Currently it housed an aircraft carrier, several destroyers and any number of diesel submarines docked there for repairs.

The waiter arrived and Jack ordered coffee, then studied the menu. Only five minutes later, Olivia showed up, breezing into the room with a smile warm enough to melt the iciest heart.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long?” she said, slipping into the chair across from him. She looked flustered but happy and excited.

She was so damn pretty it was hard for Jack to take his eyes off her. “Yup. I’ve been waiting for hours.” Which was true; he just hadn’t been sitting at the restaurant all that time.

Olivia stretched her hand across the table and Jack linked
his fingers with hers. “I’ve been anticipating tonight,” she said. “Being with you…”

“Me, too.” This was a minor understatement. “Any update on your mother’s fight with City Hall?” he asked before he made a fool of himself by staring at her.

Olivia looked up from the menu. “You didn’t hear?”

“No, what?” Usually Jack was the first to pick up on local gossip. But he hadn’t seen as much of Charlotte as he used to. For a while she’d written a seniors’ column for
The Chronicle
, but had given it up when she was diagnosed with cancer. She’d meant to continue now that she’d recovered, but had become engrossed in her current issue, a community health clinic.

“My mother and this newfound friend of hers have decided to stage a demonstration.” Olivia frowned. “I don’t know much about this Ben character, do you?”

Jack didn’t, but he wasn’t going to let her sidetrack him. This was real news. “Demonstration for what? A health clinic?”

Olivia sighed deeply. “You know my mother! Personally I think it’s Ben Rhodes who put the idea in her head. In any event, Mom’s convinced this is what our community needs.”

Jack nodded; he agreed with Charlotte.

“Mom insists she tried to go through the normal channels, but no one wants to hear it, what with all the budget cuts,” Olivia went on. “I’m afraid she’s going to take matters into her own hands.” Olivia shook her head. “In which case, God help us all.”

Jack struggled not to smile. At Charlotte’s urging he’d written several supportive editorials on the need for a health-care clinic.

“Jack Griffin, I swear if you plaster my mother’s picture
on the front page of
The Chronicle
with her holding some ridiculous sign, I may never forgive you.”

Despite himself, Jack chuckled. “I’m not making any promises.”

Olivia set aside her menu. “I’ve tried to talk sense into her, but she refuses to listen. She hasn’t got a clue how potentially embarrassing this could be for me.”

Jack frowned. “She’s not thinking about you, but about the citizens of our community and their needs.”

“You’re right,” Olivia agreed, and then paused and glanced up. “I guess I sound pretty self-absorbed about this whole thing, don’t I? But Mom doesn’t realize how much teasing I get at the courthouse. This afternoon someone asked me what I’d do if my own mother ended up in my court. They suggested I make her sit in the corner for fifteen minutes.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “Cute, really cute.” Then, as if she’d tired of the subject, she leaned toward him. “Enough about my mother. How are
you?
”

“Great.” That was the way he felt, now that he had Olivia all to himself. He’d planned a romantic evening. Okay, this was about as romantic as he knew how to be. They’d have dinner, and perhaps later, if the weather cooperated, they could walk along the waterfront. If he was lucky, she’d invite him to the house for coffee. It had been far too long since he’d kissed Olivia Lockhart….

“Any more on the paper going to five issues a week?” Olivia asked.

“Nothing that I can report, but I think it’s a distinct possibility.” Olivia was well aware of what that would mean, but he didn’t want to waste time discussing the pros and cons of such a move.