As if to prove this was an official visit, Jack pulled out his pen and pad. "Rumor has it Ben Rhodes met with the people of Puget Sound Medical and Dental this afternoon."

"You heard?" Charlotte was beside herself with excitement. "He went with Louie Benson."

Jack noted this information on his pad.

"I'm sure Mayor Benson will fill you in on the details."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with that parcel of land off Heron Street

recently bequeathed to the city by the Duncan family?"

Charlotte beamed him a smile. Very little got past Jack Griffin. "It could," she murmured and continued to concentrate on her knitting for fear he'd read the absolute delight in her eyes.

"My guess—"

"I'm not at liberty to say another word, Jack. An announcement will be made by the mayor tomorrow morning."

"So Cedar Cove is going to get its health clinic, after all?"

Charlotte kept her head lowered. "That's a distinct possibility, but you didn't hear it from me, understand?"

Jack chuckled. "Sure enough."

"Is that the only reason you're here?" Charlotte asked. She wondered who'd mentioned the news about the clinic. Bess had come over earlier and Charlotte had shared it with her dear friend. Bess had been thrilled, but she never could keep a secret, no matter how much she promised.

Jack got up and stared into the kitchen. "I didn't actually stop by because of the clinic. That was a convenient excuse. Where's Olivia hiding?"

"I most certainly am not hiding," her daughter announced, moving to the kitchen doorway where she stood with her arms crossed. "I—I was taking Mother's pie out of the oven."

"Oh, dear, I'd forgotten all about it. I didn't hear the timer." Charlotte was so flustered that the cherry pie had completely slipped her mind.

"I think I should give you two a moment alone," Charlotte said, walking past Olivia to check on the pie. Never in all her life had it taken her longer to complete a single row of knitting. She couldn't quite stifle a sigh. In the last thirty minutes, she'd been up and down more times than an elevator.

Olivia remained in the kitchen doorway and it was all Charlotte could do not to push her forward. Jack wasn't standing in the living room because he liked the view. He'd come for his wife and if Olivia had a lick of sense she'd realize it.

They stared at each other and finally Jack spoke. "I promise I won't leave the peanut butter out again," he muttered.

Charlotte resisted the urge not to giggle.

Olivia sniffled. "Oh, Jack, I didn't mean any of those terrible things I said."

"I didn't either."

"It's just that I—I guess I really am a neat freak..."

Jack shook his head. "I'm a slob. I'll try harder, I promise."

"I will, too."

Olivia flew out of the kitchen then. Charlotte peered into the living room and discovered that Jack had his arms around his wife. They hugged each other for a long moment.

Everything was going to be all right, she thought with relief. They'd have their difficulties but their commitment and love for each other was strong enough to keep them together.

"Are you ready to go home?" Olivia asked her husband.

Jack nodded and kissed the top of her head. "Do you really think I'm a sex fiend?"

"Jack!" Olivia glanced over her shoulder and Charlotte pretended not to have heard.

"Best compliment I've had in years."

"Oh, honestly." The laughter was back in Olivia's voice.

Arm in arm, they walked out the door.

Sex fiend. Her daughter didn't know how lucky she was.

Twenty-Five

Bob caught sight of the other car as he rounded the corner. He'd spent the last three hours with the theater group, rehearsing his role as the attorney Billy Flynn in the musical Chicago. It was now after ten and this late at night, Harbor Street

was nearly deserted. He noticed that the blue SUV took each turn he made, the bumper dangerously close to his own. Bob felt his heart leap into his throat just as the vehicle eased back.

He was being followed.

Bob took a left at Heron and the SUV turned left, as well. Knowing he tended to jump to conclusions, he wanted to be sure and made an immediate right. Again the vehicle behind him turned in the same direction. At least it maintained a safe distance.

Now he was convinced; he was indeed being followed. His heart racing, Bob reached for his cell phone. This wasn't an emergency and the car stayed well behind him but it was obvious the driver was tailing him. His first thought was to call Peggy, but he didn't want to needlessly alarm his wife.

Nor could he phone the sheriff's office. No crime had been committed—yet.

He'd ignored the warnings he'd gotten from Sheriff Davis and Roy. After all this time, Bob had refused to believe he was in any real danger. He'd thought everyone was overrel acting, and the only reason he'd agreed not to accept guests was to appease Peggy. All at once, he wasn't so sure about anything.

"Roy," he mumbled aloud with relief. He'd call his friend Roy would know what to do. But try as he might, Bod couldn't remember his home number. He might be able to dig it up from the recesses of his memory, but the only number he could recall was for the office. At this time of night, Roy would almost certainly be at home.

"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Just great. Think You can figure this out."

Then Bob remembered reading one of those "what to do in case of an emergency" articles in some long-ago publica tion. If you're being followed, he recalled, the advice was to drive to a police station.

With that in mind, Bob drove directly to the Cedar Cove Sheriff's Office, where he pulled into the half-circle driveway. He stayed in his vehicle as the blue SUV drove past. It slowed briefly, and then sped away.

Tension caused him to tighten his hold on the steering wheel. He sat in the driver's seat and forced his pulse to return to normal by taking deep, even breaths. When he was certain his legs would support him, he opened the car door and climbed out.

"You can't leave your car there," a uniformed officer informed him as he walked into the station.

He began to explain, then changed his mind. He might be making more of this than necessary. "I'll move it in just a moment. I need a phone book."

"You'll move it now."

Bob wanted to argue, to explain, but decided against both. It was easy enough to pull his vehicle around. He parked in the street, then walked back to the station and located a public telephone near the restrooms.

He looked up Roy McAfee's home number and used his cell phone to place the call.

"McAfee," Roy snapped, sounding like the police detective he'd once been.

"Someone was following me," Bob said without introduction.

"When?" Roy's voice was hard as steel.

"Just now."

"Where are you?"

Bob leaned his shoulder against the wall. "At the sheriff's office."

"Good. Did you get the license plate number?"

Bob closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. I was so rattled I didn't even think to look."

"What make was the car?"

That he remembered. "A blue SUV. Ford, I think. Or maybe a Chevy."

"Doesn't narrow it down much. Are you sure you didn't get any of the plate number?"

Bob wanted to kick himself. "No, sorry."

"You okay?"

"Of course I'm all right." He hoped his voice didn't betray how badly this had unsettled him. "What should I do now?"

"Drive over to my house. I'll meet you and follow you home. We can talk there."

"Okay." He climbed back in the car and started the engine. His hand trembled as he turned the ignition key.

He checked the rearview mirror every few seconds during the drive to Roy and Corrie's. He thought he saw the SUV once, but if so it kept a respectable distance that didn't allow him an opportunity to read the license plate. But by then he was so jumpy he would've suspected any car that came within two blocks of him.

When he arrived at the McAfees' home, Roy was already in the car. He pulled in directly behind Bob and followed him down Heron to Cranberry Point.

Peggy was standing at the back door waiting for him as if she knew something was wrong. He was only a few minutes later than he'd told her he'd be.

"What is it?" she asked as he walked from the garage to the house, Roy directly behind him.

Sometimes Bob swore his wife had a sixth sense. "I was followed."

Her eyes widened with alarm. "Just now?"

He nodded. "I called Roy from the sheriff's office. To be on the safe side he decided to follow me home."

"What's happening?" Hannah stepped into the kitchen, her expression curious—and more than a little wary.

"I think we should all sit down," Peggy suggested. Roy came into the house with Bob, and the four of them sat in the family room. Hannah, who was dressed for bed, resembled a lost waif with her long hair falling about her face and huge, frightened eyes.

"Tell us the whole story, from the beginning," Roy said.

There wasn't all that much to tell. Bob explained how the car had come right up on his bumper when he first drove down Harbor Street

and then pulled back. How the driver had maintained a reasonable distance as Bob took a number of twists and turns to establish whether or not he was being followed.

"Whoever it was didn't want to be identified," Roy said.

"Did you recognize the person in the car?" Peggy asked.

Bob shook his head. "No—I didn't really look. I mean, when the car first came up behind me the only thought that went through my mind was how close on my tail it was."

"Did you notice if the driver was a male or female?" Roy asked. "One person or two?"

Bob felt like an utter failure. He should be able to answer at least that question, but in all honesty he couldn't. "One, I think. Male.. .but I'm not sure." Disgusted with himself, he shook his head. "I don't know. I couldn't tell."

Peggy reached for his hand and her fingers curled around his. He was sure she didn't realize how tightly she squeezed.

"Anything else you can remember?" Roy prodded.

"Nothing. But if it happens again, I'll know what to look for."

"Again?" Peggy gasped.

Bob could tell she was badly shaken, but he couldn't come up with a single reassurance. Not even one.

"Who do you think it might be?" Bob asked his friend.

"Whoever it is wanted you to know you were being followed." Roy said, "otherwise he wouldn't have made it this obvious."

"Why?"

"Why else?" Peggy cried. "He's trying to frighten us."

Bob had news for her; the attempt had worked.

"But...who would do such a thing?" Hannah asked. "What sort of person?"

"It might have nothing to do with the murder," Roy told them.

"What else could it mean?"

Roy shrugged. "That I don't know."

If Roy thought he was providing comfort, his tactic hadn't worked. Not in Bob's opinion, anyway. He was nervous and unable to hide it.

"I'm going to bed," Hannah said into the silence. "Unless you need me for anything?"