Linc removed the phone book from a small shelf. The entire directory was only half an inch thick. The Seattle phone book had a bigger section just of government agencies than the entire Cedar Cove White and Yellow Pages. He quickly found the listing for Ben and Charlotte Rhodes, then copied down the phone number and address.

“Got it,” he announced triumphantly.

“Should we call?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” Mel asked. He walked back to the bar and downed the last of his beer.

“I don’t want to give Mary Jo a heads-up that we’re in town. I think the best thing to do is take her by surprise.”

Ned nodded, although he seemed a bit uncertain.

Linc thanked the bartender, got some general directions and collected his change. He left a generous tip; it was Christmas Eve, after all. Then he marched toward the door, his brothers scrambling after him.

In the parking lot again, Linc climbed into the truck and started the engine. He’d noticed that Harbor Street angled up the hill. He guessed David’s parents’ street wasn’t far from this main thoroughfare. Trusting his instincts, he returned to the traffic signal, took a left and followed the road until it intersected with Pelican Court.

Within five minutes of leaving the tavern, Linc was parked outside Ben and Charlotte Rhodes’s house.

The porch light was on, which boded well, and there appeared to be a light on inside, too. The house was a solid two-story dwelling, about the same age as the one he shared with his brothers in Seattle. White Christmas lights were strung along the roofline and the bushes were lighted, too. There was a manger scene on the front lawn.

“This is a neat town,” Mel said. “Did you see they have an art gallery? We passed it a couple of minutes ago.”

“When did you get so interested in art?” Linc asked.

“I like art,” Mel muttered.

“Since when?”

“Since now. You want to make something of it?”

“No,” Linc said, puzzled by his brother’s defensiveness.

Linc walked up the steps leading to the front door while his brothers stood out on the lawn. Mel amused himself by rearranging the large plastic figures in the Nativity scene.

Linc felt smug. If Mary Jo thought she’d outsmarted him, she had a lesson to learn. He didn’t want to be self-righteous, but he was going to teach his little sister that she wasn’t nearly as clever as she seemed to think. He also wanted Mary Jo to understand that he had her best interests at heart—now and always.

Leaning hard against the doorbell, he waited several minutes and when nothing happened, he pressed the bell a second time.

“Want me to check out the backyard?” Ned called from the lawn.

“Sure.”

His youngest brother took off and disappeared around the side of the house.

Mel trailed after Ned, while Linc stood guard on the porch. Since no one was bothering to answer—although there seemed to be people home—Linc stepped over to the picture window and glanced inside through the half-closed blinds.

A cat hissed at him from the windowsill on the other side. Or at least he assumed it was hissing, since its teeth were bared and its ears laid back. Startled, he took a deep breath and stepped away. Although there was a window between them, the cat glared at him maliciously, its intentions clear.

“Nice kitty, nice kitty,” Linc remarked, although he knew the animal couldn’t hear his attempt to be friendly. This cat was anything but. Linc didn’t doubt for a moment that if he were to get inside the house, “nice kitty” would dig all his claws into him within seconds.

Linc hurried to the other side of the porch and leaned over the side, but that didn’t provide him with any further information.

A minute or two later, his brothers were back. “The house is locked up. Door wouldn’t budge.”

This wasn’t going the way Linc had planned. “Okay, so maybe they aren’t home.”

“Then where are they?” Mel demanded.

“How am I supposed to know?” Linc asked, growing irritated.

“You’re the one with all the answers, remember?”

“Hey, hey,” Ned said, coming to stand between his brothers. “Let’s skip the sarcasm. We’re looking for Mary Jo, remember?”

“Where is she?” Mel asked.

“I haven’t got a clue,” Ned returned calmly. “But someone must.”

“Maybe we should ask a neighbor,” Mel said.

“Be my guest.” Linc motioned widely with his arm.

“Okay, I will. I’ll try…that one.” Mel marched down the steps, strode across the street and walked up to the front door. He pounded on it. Even from this distance Linc could hear his knock.

An older woman with pink rollers in her hair pulled aside the drape and peeked out.

“I just saw someone,” Ned yelled. “There’s someone inside.”

Linc had seen her, too.

“Why isn’t she answering the door?” Mel asked loudly, as if the two of them had some secret insight into this stranger.

“Would you answer if King Kong was trying to get in your front door?” Linc asked. Apparently Mel hadn’t figured out that most people responded better to more sensitive treatment.

“Okay, fine,” Mel shouted after several long minutes.

“Be that way, lady.”

“She just doesn’t want to answer the door,” Ned shouted back.

Mel ignored that and proceeded to the next house.

“Knock more quietly this time,” Linc instructed.

Mel ignored that, too. Walking to the door, he pushed the buzzer, then turned and glanced over his shoulder. This house seemed friendlier, Linc thought. A large evergreen wreath hung on the door and lights sparkled from the porch columns.

Again no one answered.

Losing patience, Mel looked in the front window, framing his face with both hands. After peering inside for several seconds, he straightened and called out, “No one’s home here.”

“You want me to try?” Ned asked Linc. Mel wasn’t exactly making friends in the neighborhood.

“Do you think it’ll do any good?”

“Not really,” Ned admitted.

A piercing blare of sirens sounded in the distance, disrupting the tranquility of the night.

Mel hurried back across the street. “Everyone in the neighborhood seems to be gone. Except for the lady with those pink things in her hair.”

Despite their efforts, they obviously weren’t getting anywhere. “Now what?” Ned muttered.

“You got any ideas?” Linc asked his two brothers, yelling to be heard over the sirens.

“Nope,” Mel said with a shrug.

“Me, neither.” Linc said, not hiding his discouragement.

They sauntered back to the truck and climbed inside. Linc started the engine and was about to drive away from the curb when two sheriff’s vehicles shot into the street and boxed him in.

The officers leaped out of their cars and pulled their weapons. “Get out of the truck with your hands up!”

12

Mary Jo hadn’t intended to spill her heart to Grace, but the older woman was so warm, so sympathetic. Before long, she’d related the whole sorry tale of how she’d met and fallen in love with David Rhodes. By the time Mary Jo finished, there was a pile of used tissues on the table.

“You aren’t the only one who’s ever loved unwisely, my dear,” Grace assured her.

“I just feel really stupid.”

“Because you trusted a man unworthy of your love?” Grace asked, shaking her head. “The one who needs to be ashamed is David Rhodes.”

“He isn’t, though.”

“No,” Grace agreed. “But let me repeat a wise old saying that has served me well through the years.”

“What’s that?” Mary Jo asked. She dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes and blew her nose.

“Time wounds all heels,” Grace said with a knowing smile. “It will with David, too.”

Mary Jo laughed. “I guess the reverse is true, as well. I’ll get over David and his lies….” Her voice trailed off…. “Is everyone in Cedar Cove as nice as you and Cliff?” she asked a moment later.

The question seemed to surprise Grace. “I’d like to think so.”

“Olivia—Ms. Griffin—certainly is.” Mary Jo sighed and looked down at her hands. “That firefighter—what’s his name again?”

“Mack McAfee. He’s new to town.”

What Mary Jo particularly remembered was that he had the gentlest touch and the most reassuring voice. She could still hear it if she closed her eyes. The way he’d knelt at her side and the protectiveness of his manner had calmed her, physically and emotionally.

“His parents live in town,” Grace was explaining.

“Roy McAfee is a retired Seattle detective turned private investigator, and his wife, Corrie, works in his office.”

“Really.” She recalled seeing Mr. McAfee’s sign on Harbor Street. What a fascinating profession. She suspected Mack’s father got some really interesting cases. Maybe not, though, especially in such a small town. Maybe she was just influenced by the mystery novels she loved and the shows she watched on television.

“I suppose I should change clothes before dinner,” Grace said, rising from her chair with seeming reluctance. “I’ve enjoyed sitting here chatting with you.”

“Me, too,” Mary Jo told her. It’d been the most relaxing part of her day—except, of course, for her nap.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Mary Jo figured this was her signal to leave. “I’ll go to the apartment.”

“Are you sure? I know Mack said you should rest, but Cliff and I would really like it if you joined our family for dinner.”

“Where is Cliff?” she asked, glancing over one shoulder, assuming he must be somewhere within sight.

“He’s out with his horses. They’re his first love.” Grace smiled as she said it.

Mary Jo had noticed the way Cliff regarded his wife. He plainly adored Grace and it was equally obvious that she felt the same about him. Mary Jo gathered they’d only been married a year or two. The wedding picture on the piano looked recent, and it was clear that their adult children were from earlier marriages.