204 Rosewood Lane - Debbie Macomber [96]
Sunday when they checked out of the hotel, Grace was tired, and more than a little regretful that their time had come to an end. Yet she was exhilarated to have shared this special weekend with her daughters. It was everything she’d hoped it would be.
“Let’s do this again,” she said as they sat in the ferry terminal and waited to walk onto the boat.
“It won’t be as easy next year,” Maryellen said. “Not for me, at any rate. I’ll have the baby.”
“Bring her,” Kelly insisted.
“Her?” Maryellen joked. “You sound very sure that I’m going to have a daughter.”
“It’s a girl,” Kelly said confidently.
“How can you possibly know that?”
“I just do.” She crossed her arms and stretched out her legs, leaning back against the hard wooden bench. “In my heart, I knew Tyler was a boy long before he was born and I have the strongest feeling that you’re going to get your little Catherine Grace.”
Grace had no idea whether her daughter was guessing or if she did indeed “have a feeling.” In any event, she figured Kelly had a fifty percent chance of being right. Most importantly, she saw her daughters laughing and joking together when only a few days ago she’d thought that might never happen again.
When she’d booked the hotel, Grace’s rational self had said she couldn’t afford this; now she knew it had been worth every penny.
Roy McAfee looked away from the computer screen and glanced down at the Sherman file on his desk, a file that grew thicker by the week. Months earlier, Grace Sherman had hired him to discover what he could about her missing husband. So far he’d struck out. He’d come across a number of potential clues, but they’d all gone nowhere. Roy took this case personally and felt decidedly frustrated by his lack of success.
After twenty years on the Seattle police force, Roy had reached the rank of detective. Following a back injury he’d sustained from tackling a suspect, he accepted early retirement. Timing was good; their two children were more or less independent now and living their own lives.
He and Corrie had moved to Cedar Cove, where the cost of living wasn’t as prohibitive and property values remained reasonable. Roy had expected to settle happily into early retirement.
What Roy hadn’t expected was how quickly he’d grow bored with sitting around the house. Within eighteen months of moving to Cedar Cove, he’d started a new business—as a private investigator. Corrie had been around police work her entire life, and she took on the task of being his assistant and secretary.
When he hung out his shingle, Roy had assumed he’d be getting mainly employee background checks and insurance cases, but the surprising variety of business that came his way made life interesting. His most puzzling and difficult case was the disappearance of Dan Sherman. The man had vanished so completely that if Roy didn’t know better, he might suspect Dan had become part of the Witness Protection Program.
Corrie walked into the office and brought him a cup of freshly brewed coffee. She nodded at the computer screen. “Dan Sherman?”
Roy shrugged. Corrie didn’t say it, but they both knew he just couldn’t leave that one alone. The hours he put in these days were without compensation. Grace had given him a budget and the money ran out before he’d found answers.
“Troy Davis phoned,” Corrie told him. “He made an appointment for this afternoon.”
Now, this was interesting. The local sheriff was only a nodding acquaintance. Roy had spoken to him a few times and their paths had occasionally crossed. Roy liked Davis well enough, but the sheriff didn’t seem quite as sure of him. Reserving his opinion, Roy supposed, pending more evidence.
“Did he say what he wanted?” he asked.
Corrie shook her head. “Not really, just that he might have a bit of work for you.”
At three o’clock exactly, Troy arrived and Corrie ushered him into Roy’s office. Roy stood up to greet the sheriff,