92 Pacific Boulevard Read online

  That much was true. The only reason he’d gone was for Megan’s sake. The choosing and chopping down of the Christmas tree had long been a family tradition, and although he’d tried to beg off, his daughter had insisted.

  “You were furious with me, as I recall.”

  “Yes, I was,” she said.

  “But you aren’t anymore, right?”

  Faith shook her index finger at him. “You aren’t going to distract me. We were talking about your ‘tell,’ remember?”

  He gestured toward her. “By all means, continue.”

  “As I was saying,” she said, her mouth quivering with a smile. “You squint. You squinted that night when you saw me.”

  “And you pretended you hadn’t noticed me.”

  “Not as successfully as I’d hoped,” she said, amusement still evident on her face.

  He grinned, too. “I guess this means I should never play poker,” he said lightly.

  “Not with me, you shouldn’t,” she told him, as her fingers moved quickly, looping the yarn onto the needles.

  Troy had never asked her what she was knitting. He thought of the socks she’d made him; he still wore them but never without a pang of nostalgia—and remorse.

  He reluctantly set his coffee aside. “Nothing’s been going on around here, has it?”

  Faith looked away. “Nothing of significance.”

  “Faith…”

  Sighing heavily, she stared down at her knitting. “Someone, probably a kid trying to make trouble, overturned my garbage can. No harm done.”

  Troy rubbed his face. “I wish I knew why you’ve been targeted for this vandalism.”

  “I wish I did, too.”

  “If only we—”

  “I’ve done everything you’ve suggested,” she broke in, a bit defensively. “Scott was over last week and set up motion detector lights over the garage. Don’t worry, Troy, nothing’s happened since my tires got slashed.”

  “Good.” He stood and glanced at the door. “You’ll call if anything else comes up?”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “I mean it, Faith.”

  She walked him to the door and wrapped her arms around him. Troy held her close, loath to release her. He wanted to kiss her, but needed a sign, an indication that she wanted his kiss. It came a few seconds later when she turned her lips to his. Their mouths met softly—sweet and comforting. They’d known passion, but this gentleness was different and in some ways better, although he wouldn’t have thought that possible.

  When he ended the kiss, he pressed his chin against her hair and breathed in her perfume, wondering when he’d see her again. Or would he have to find another convenient excuse to visit?

  Ten minutes later Troy pulled into his own driveway. He couldn’t remember a single detail of the ride between Faith’s house on Rosewood Lane and his own place at 92 Pacific Boulevard. His conversation with Charlotte Rhodes that afternoon weighed heavily on his mind. He needed time to consider the information she’d given him, to think it through.

  As Troy stepped out of his car, he realized there was a second vehicle parked outside his house. The doors opened and two men emerged. Because it was dark and the porch light dim, Troy couldn’t immediately identify them. Then he recognized one as the mayor; the other was his brother, the attorney.

  “Louie,” Troy said, extending his hand to the mayor. “Otto.“

  “I want you to know,” Otto said gruffly, “as my brother’s attorney, I advised him against this, but he insisted.“

  Troy nodded. “Would you like to go down to the station?” he asked the mayor.

  “No.”

  Louie was pale, and sweat had broken out on his forehead.

  “I want to talk to you,” Louie said. “Privately.“

  Troy hesitated. “We’ve known each other a long time. If you’re asking me to—“

  “My brother hasn’t admitted to any wrongdoing.”

  “Otto,” Louie barked. “Just let me tell him. If he needs to arrest me, then so be it. I’m not asking for any personal favors.” He looked directly at Troy. “I’d prefer to talk here, if that’s all right. If you want me to repeat what I tell you over at the station, then I will.“

  “Agreed.” Troy showed them into the chilly house, switched on the lights and turned up the heat, then gestured for the two men to sit down.

  Louie perched on the edge of the sofa; Otto sat next to him, his back straight, his expression guarded.

  “I’m not sure where to start,” the mayor said, glancing up at Troy. His hands dangled between his parted knees.

  “You saw Charlotte Rhodes stop by my office earlier this afternoon, didn’t you?”

  “No,” Louie said starkly. “She came to see me afterward and suggested I speak to you.” He gave a long sigh. “I figured it was either come to you and tell my story or wait for you to seek me out. I’d rather clear this up once and for all. I don’t want it hanging over my head anymore.”

  “My brother can’t be held responsible—”

  Louie raised a hand to silence his brother. “I’ll do the talking. I appreciate that you’re here, Otto, but I’m going to do it my own way.”

  “I—”

  Again Louie silenced his brother, this time with a look.

  Troy settled back and waited.

  “I married my first wife while I was in college,” Louie said.

  Troy didn’t know the mayor had been married more than once. Donna had been Louie’s wife for as long as he could recall.

  “My marriage to Beverly wasn’t good,” Louie told him. “My wife had…medical problems.”

  “What my brother’s trying to say,” Otto cut in, “is that Beverly had emotional problems. Or, more accurately, psychiatric ones.”

  “She was agoraphobic,” Louie said as if his brother hadn’t spoken. “In the beginning, everything seemed fine. Beverly was shy and she didn’t like being around a lot of people but that didn’t bother me. After we were married I realized this tendency of hers was more than simple aversion. To be fair, we had a few good months together.” Louie paused, sighing, before he went on. “I was about to graduate from college and we decided it was time to start our family.”

  “That’s when the trouble began,” Otto said. “And—”

  Louie cast his brother another quelling look and Otto didn’t complete the sentence.

  “As I was saying,” Louie continued, “Beverly got pregnant easily enough but miscarried in the third month. Losing the pregnancy devastated her.”

  Troy remembered how hard Sandy’s miscarriage had been on both of them, and more recently, how painful the loss of Megan’s baby had been. He nodded sympathetically.

  “Afterward she withdrew completely. I couldn’t get her to leave the house.”

  Otto leaned forward and added, “Louie did everything he could for her—to no avail. He couldn’t persuade her to see a psychiatrist, and the problem got worse and worse.”

  “By then Beverly and I had no relationship to speak of. Some days she didn’t get out of bed.” Louie rubbed his palms together as if to warm his hands. “It didn’t help that her younger sister—who wasn’t married—got pregnant. The father was some sailor she met during Seafair in Seattle. Here today and gone tomorrow. Apparently Amber didn’t bother to ask his name. She didn’t want the baby, but Beverly did. She told her we’d raise the child. I was willing to adopt Amber’s child,” Louie said, “hoping that a baby would give me back the woman I married.”

  “Did you legally adopt the baby?”

  “No,” he said, sighing once more. “That meant Beverly would have to leave the house—go to court, for one thing—and she refused to do that.”

  Troy nodded, indicating that his friend should go on.

  “When the child was born with Down syndrome, it made no difference to Beverly. She mothered him, gave him all her love and attention.”

  “But nothing changed,” Otto said. “Beverly was still a recluse.”
/>   “Her only joy was her sister’s son,” Louie said. “She doted on him, loved and pampered him and then—”

  Troy interrupted with a question. “You stayed in the marriage?”

  Louie looked away, then finally shook his head. “Eventually we divorced.”

  “My brother did everything he could to save the marriage,” Otto insisted.

  Louie raised his hand. “None of that’s important now. Beverly didn’t seem to care that we were no longer married. Timmy was her entire world.”

  Sensing there was more to this story, Troy turned to Otto, who—strangely—remained quiet.

  “A few years after the divorce, I met Donna,” Louie said, lowering his voice. “I was living in Seattle then. We got engaged. She knew I was divorced but I didn’t mention Timmy.”

  “Louie kept in touch with Beverly and Timmy and saw to their needs.”

  “I brought her groceries once a week, made sure her bills were paid and checked up on her,” Louie elaborated. “Otherwise, I don’t know what would’ve become of them. Although we were divorced I still felt some responsibility for her and Timmy. I was often tempted to call Child Protective Services but they would, most likely, have taken Timmy away, which would’ve destroyed Beverly completely. I guess he was a kid who slipped through the cracks. No one from any official agency knew about him—and I didn’t tell them.”

  “What happened to Beverly?” Troy asked.

  “I’m getting to that. When Timmy was in his early teens, I noticed that she’d started to lose weight. Soon I realized it was something physical. She became gaunt and spent practically all her time in bed. I begged her to see a doctor but no matter how much I pleaded she refused.”

  Otto did speak up then. “Louie phoned to ask for my help. I had a good friend who was a medical student. He went to the house to examine her—over her protests—and diagnosed her with cancer. Stomach cancer.”

  “It became apparent that unless she got immediate medical treatment she’d die, and frankly I think that’s what she wanted. Life had become too painful for her.”

  Louie’s expression was tormented. “I did everything I could to convince her to seek medical help. For Timmy’s sake, I pleaded with her to go to a hospital.”

  Troy gave a slight nod. He believed Louie. He knew nothing about any of this because he’d been in the service at that time.

  “She kept refusing,” Otto inserted. “I was with him on more than one occasion and what he’s saying is the truth. The thought of leaving the security of her house was more than she could bear. It was a sad, difficult situation.” He shook his head. “Eventually, when she was too weak to resist, we had her taken to Seattle by ambulance. She didn’t last much longer.”

  “What about the boy?” Troy asked.

  “I stopped by to visit a couple of weeks before that—and Timmy was gone.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

  “Did Beverly tell you where he was?”

  Louie nodded. “She said her sister had come and taken him away.” He swallowed visibly. “Beverly knew she was dying and couldn’t look after him anymore.”

  “You checked this out?”

  “No. I…I know I should have. I can’t tell you how many sleepless nights I’ve spent wondering. Beverly said Amber had promised to take the boy to an aunt of theirs who lived near Cedar Cove. This aunt, whom I never met, apparently used to visit once in a while.”

  Troy let that information settle before he asked, “Did you ever hear from Amber again?”

  “Never.”

  Otto said, “She died a year after Beverly in an automobile accident.”

  “I didn’t find out about it until several years later,” Louie clarified. “By then, Donna and I were married and we’d moved back to Cedar Cove and started our family.”

  “So you believe the body in the cave is Timmy,” Troy said.

  Louie stared down at the floor. “I strongly suspect it is. The…skeleton was wearing the baseball cap I gave him. He loved that thing and wore it constantly.”

  “We’d need dental records to confirm his identity,” Troy said. He paused. “I assume there are dental records?”

  “Yes,” Louie told him. “He’d been to the dentist two or three times. He broke a tooth when he was eight, and I took him to Dr. Hudson myself.”

  “Fine. I’ll get the chart from Hudson and send it to the pathologist.”

  “It’s Timmy,” Louie insisted. “You can compare dental records if you want, but in my heart of hearts, I know it’s Timmy.”

  This brought up something else. “Charlotte Jefferson knew about Timmy. She met the aunt—Amber and Beverly’s aunt—in the park.”

  Closing his eyes, Louie nodded.

  “So you believe the aunt is responsible for Timmy’s death?” Troy asked.

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Louie said, his voice ragged. “If I were to speculate, I’d guess Amber did take the boy to live with her mother’s sister. But you have to remember that Timmy had only been away from Beverly for the briefest periods of time. He couldn’t possibly have understood what had happened and why he had to leave the only home he’d ever known.”

  “My assumption is that he ran away,” Otto said. “Somehow he found the cave and hid out there…”

  “Wouldn’t his aunt have looked for him or reported him missing? Is she still alive?” Troy asked urgently.

  Louie shook his head. “I learned a few years later that she died of a sudden heart attack about two weeks after Beverly. I figured the boy had gone to a group home or something. I…I suppose that’s what I wanted to believe.”

  “Timmy died due to a tragic series of events.” Otto stood. “My brother hasn’t done anything culpable.”

  “Maybe not, but I should’ve made sure Timmy was okay, that he was settled and happy. The truth is, I was young and selfish and relieved not to be responsible for the boy anymore. I feel wretched now to realize my selfcenteredness might have contributed to his death. The night I was arrested for drunk driving was the night I could no longer deny what I’d suspected from the beginning—it was Timmy in that cave.”

  Troy knew that no one would be harder on the mayor than he’d been on himself.

  “If you feel you need to press charges, then do so,” Louie said brokenly.

  “On what grounds?” Otto demanded.

  “Neglect,” Louie whispered. “Amber wasn’t to be trusted and I knew it. I was far too willing to let her take Timmy to this aunt of hers and then, when I discovered the aunt was dead…I didn’t look for him or try to find out where he was.”

  “We’d prefer to keep Louie’s name out of the press,” Otto said. “By the time Timmy died, he’d been divorced from Beverly for a number of years.”

  “I don’t see how mentioning Louie is relevant to the case. You had no legal obligation toward Timmy.”

  “Perhaps not a legal obligation but a moral one. I should never have been so willing to slough him off.”

  Troy agreed that morally Louie had been in the wrong even if legally he wasn’t. But in his view, the mayor had suffered enough.

  “Once I get confirmation from the pathologist,” he said, “I’ll write up a short press release, merely indicating that the remains have been identified. What was Timmy’s last name?” he asked as the thought suddenly occurred to him. “Was it Benson?”

  “No, Amber gave him her name—Beverly’s maiden name—which was Gilbert.”

  “Fine. I’ll identify the body as that of Timothy Gilbert.”

  “You won’t mention Louie?” Otto asked. “We can count on that?”

  Troy nodded. “I can’t see that dragging his name into this matter would serve any useful purpose.”

  Louie hung his head and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “You’ve been a good husband and father during the years since,” Troy said thoughtfully. “You’ve served your community well. I suggest we leave things as they are.”

  “I’d like to bury Tim
my,” Louie said. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “I’ll see that the remains are released to you.”

  “I think Beverly would want him buried with her.”

  Troy agreed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mack knew something was wrong the moment he arrived home from his shift at the fire station. Mary Jo threw open her front door, as if she’d been waiting for him. She stood there, looking small and frightened.

  Not bothering to go to his own place, Mack walked toward her. She was chewing frantically on her lower lip.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  She seemed to have trouble speaking, and he noticed how close to tears she was.

  “Is Noelle sick?”

  The three-month-old had come down with a cold earlier in the week, but it didn’t appear to be serious.

  “I…I saw David.”

  Mack stiffened instantly. “When?“

  “Here…a few minutes ago. I’d just got home with Noelle.” It was now about five-thirty, so David had known to come after Mary Jo had left the office and picked up Noelle. Mack supposed Mary Jo’s address wouldn’t be too difficult for someone like David to find. Access to a computer was probably all he needed.

  Taking her by the elbow, Mack led Mary Jo inside and sat on the sofa with her. Clasping her hand, he held it between his own. He felt her tremble as she gathered her composure.

  She breathed in deeply before she spoke. “He wants Noelle.”

  Mack bit off an angry retort. “He’s living in a dream world if he thinks any court in the land will take this baby away from you.”

  “He said he has an attorney…”

  “And you believe him?” Mack had never met David but he’d heard enough about him to realize the other man wasn’t to be trusted. Apparently he expected to use his infant daughter as leverage for his own purposes. Whatever his specific objective, Mack was sure it had everything to do with cold, hard cash.

  “I…I don’t know,” she said, scraping her hair off her forehead.

  “This is the first time you’ve seen him since before Noelle’s birth, isn’t it?”

  Mary Jo nodded.

  “Do you still have feelings for him?” She’d said she didn’t but he had to ask. Had to know. David was Noelle’s father, and at one time Mary Jo had loved him. Mack struggled to hide the anger he felt at the thought of David threatening Mary Jo.