Cranberry Point (Cedar Cove #4)(3)

"No way." Bob's quick refusal shouldn't have come as any surprise. He'd been quite content to live in denial. Denial and featherbeds! Someone had to point out the very real possibility that he was in danger and because he was, so was she.

"I'm not leaving Cedar Cove."

"Now, Bob..."

"I won't let anyone or anything drive me out of my own home."

A chill shot up Peggy's spine. "But—"

"No, Peg," he said, and his face hardened with resolve. "How long are we supposed to stay away? One month? Two?" He paused. "More than that?"

It wasn't a question Troy could answer.

"Max was found dead over a year ago. I was supposedly in danger then, right?"

Sheriff Davis exchanged a concerned look with Peggy. "I understand what you're saying, but we didn't know then what we know now."

"I'm not running! I spent half my life running, and I won't do it again. If somebody wants me dead, then so be it."

Peggy gasped.

"I'm sorry, honey," her husband said, stretching his arm across the table to clasp her fingers with his. "I refuse to live like that, looking over my shoulder all the time."

"Then perhaps you could compromise," Davis said. "There's no need to invite someone into your home who might want to harm you."

"What do you mean?" Bob leaned closer, his stomach pressed against the rounded edge of the pinewood table. Peggy realized that despite his defiant words he was afraid. His body language revealed what he was unwilling to admit.

"I don't know how many reservations you have for the B and B, but I'd advise you to not take any more."

"We can easily cancel the ones we have," Peggy murmured. Any number of businesses in town would welcome the additional bookings.

Bob directed his gaze at Peggy. "Would that make you more comfortable?"

She swallowed and nodded.

Bob continued to look unsure, as if even this one concession was more than he felt inclined to make.

"I've been worried ever since Jack and Olivia's wedding," she whispered.

A week earlier, Bob had stood up as Jack Griffin's best man. That was just a day or two before they'd learned Max Russell had been murdered.

"All right." Bob's voice was heavy with reluctance. "We'll cancel the reservations."

"No guests," Peggy said.

"No guests," he confirmed, "until this matter is settled once and for all."

This was going to hurt financially, but it didn't matter. What did matter was having the reassurance that her husband was safe.

"I'll do what I can to solve this quickly," Troy promised them.

Peggy could only wonder how long that would take.

Two

Cecilia Randall stood on the navy pier and watched the aircraft carrier George Washington sail into SinclairInlet. After six months serving in the Persian Gulf, her husband, Ian, was finally home. Cecilia had often heard people talk about hearts swelling and dismissed the expression as exaggerated, sentimental. Now she knew what it meant, how it felt. Her heart swelled with love, pride and patriotism as the massive ship headed toward Bremerton.

The other navy wives and hordes of friends and family crowded the pier. Colorful banners waved in the wind, along with Welcome Home signs. News helicopters from the Seattle television stations circled the area, taping the event for the five-o'clock broadcast. The joy and excitement around her was infectious, despite the dreary, cloudy day. Even the lead-gray skies and the threat of imminent rain didn't dampen Cecilia's mood. A band played in the background, and the American flag rippled in the breeze. It could have been a Norman Rockwell painting.

Cecilia's dearest friends, two other navy wives, Cathy Lackey and Carol Greendale, stood with her, each holding a toddler against her hip while madly waving. Cecilia hoped that before long she'd be a mother again herself.

"I think I see Andrew," Cathy cried. She screeched with happiness and waved one arm wildly above her head. Then she pointed his daddy out to her young son.

Three thousand sailors, dressed in white navy uniforms, stood along the rail, feet apart, hands behind their backs, as they lined the perimeter of the flight deck. At this distance it was impossible for Cecilia to find Ian. The wind whipped at her face and she shouted and waved. Perhaps Ian would see her.

"Take Amanda," Carol said, heaving her three-year-old daughter toward Cecilia.

She gladly held the toddler. There'd been a time when even looking at this little girl brought her pain. Allison, Ian's and her baby daughter, was born the same week as Amanda. Had she lived, Allison, too, would've been three years old. But she'd died after clinging to life for only a few days. Her death had ripped the marriage apart. If not for a wise family court judge who ignored convention and denied their divorce, they might have ended up like so many other sad marriage statistics.

"Ian, over here," Cecilia shouted, as she thrust one arm high above her head. "Do you see your daddy?" she asked Amanda.

The little girl's arms were tight around Cecilia's neck, and she buried her face in Cecilia's shoulder.

"There's Daddy, there's Daddy," Carol said, pointing to the aircraft carrier.

Amanda looked up then, smiling, and Carol reached for her daughter again.