bolt. Consider an alarm system, too.”
“I’ll look into it.” His suggestion kept her from dwelling on what had happened, but not for long.
“My family,” she whispered. She stared at the photographs of her children and grandchildren. “Are they safe?”
Troy shrugged uncomfortably. “My guess is this is a scare tactic.”
“But why?”
Troy’s face creased in a dark frown. “I can’t answer that. I wish I could tell you, but I can’t.”
“I want to know why …“
“I do, too,” he said, “and I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to find whoever’s responsible.”
That was fine, but Faith’s biggest concern remained her family. “Why would anyone cross out their faces? I won’t be able to sleep at night if there’s any chance my grandchildren might be at risk… . It’s all because of me,” she said in a rush. “What could I have possibly done to deserve this?”
Troy took her by the shoulders and his hold was all that kept her from collapsing.
“Faith, listen,” he said, sounding stern and official. “Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll schedule patrol cars to drive past your place and Scott’s, too. I don’t want you to worry, understand?”
It was almost more than she could do to nod in simple acknowledgment.
“Mom!” She heard Scott’s voice coming from the front porch.
When she didn’t immediately answer, Troy spoke on her behalf. “We’re inside the house,” he called out. Releasing her, he moved toward the door and opened it.
Scott charged into the house and did a double take. He was struck silent, his eyes wide with shock and dismay. Once he’d recovered, he turned to Troy to supply answers, the same way Faith had moments earlier.
Faith reached out to her son. She was close to both her children and her grandchildren, too, but refused to be a burden to them. Her independence meant everything, and she was determined to preserve it. After Carl’s death, she’d adjusted to being a widow, rambling around that large Seattle house on her own. Now she’d come back to Cedar Cove, but as much as possible, she still took care of whatever needed attention without calling her children for assistance.
So far she’d managed well, but this … this monster who’d invaded her home had overturned more than her furniture, he’d unsettled her entire world and destroyed her peace of mind.
“Deputy Weaver’s talking to the neighbors,” Troy said. “I’ll check with him and see if he has any information.”
“Whoever did this came through the front door?” Scott asked incredulously. He slid one arm around Faith’s shoulders. She was grateful for his support.
“It appears that way,” Troy answered.
“In broad daylight? Wasn’t anyone on the street home?”
Faith looked up. “The Vesseys are in Arizona for the winter and … and—” she faltered a bit “—everyone else on the block is either at work or at school.”
“Will you be okay?” Troy asked, his eyes revealing his reluctance to leave. But now that Scott had arrived, there was no reason for him to stay. He’d done his duty. No, he’d gone above and beyond anything duty required.
Calling on all her strength—and an acting ability she hadn’t known she possessed—Faith reassured him with a smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Troy. It … it meant a great deal that you came yourself.”
He touched the brim of his hat and, with a nod in Scott’s direction, turned and walked out the door.
Three
Olivia Griffin spooned up the last of her soup and set the empty bowl in the kitchen sink. The homemade tomato basil was one of her favorites and her mother made sure she had an abundant supply every week. Jack would be pleased that she’d finished her lunch. She’d received her first chemotherapy treatment the previous week and it had gone better than she’d expected.
But then her expectations hadn’t been optimistic. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer a few months before, Olivia had been afraid her life was almost over. To say the news had shocked her was putting it mildly. She’d always eaten properly, exercised regularly and taken all the recommended vitamins.
The important lesson she’d learned about cancer was that the disease wasn’t fair; for that matter, life wasn’t fair. And at her age, that was something she certainly should’ve known. Did know. Losing one of her children at thirteen, the failure of her first marriage. But somehow, she’d foolishly come to believe she could control her body, her health, if she did the right things. That loss of control was difficult to accept, yet she had no choice.
She was a woman who rigorously managed her environment—no clutter in her house. She realized she’d become more that way after Jordan’s death.
She’d taken a leave from her position as a family court judge and was gearing up, both emotionally and physically, for the treatments scheduled during the next three months. She knew some people worked through their chemo, but everyone had urged her not to. “Give yourself a break,” Jack said, and so she had.
The sound of a car door closing alerted Olivia to the fact that she had company. Glancing out the large kitchen window, she noticed that her visitor was none other than her mother. No surprise there.
Olivia frowned slightly when she saw that Charlotte was alone. Since her mother had married Ben several years ago, they were practically always together. They’d returned from a Caribbean cruise on Christmas Day and her mother had been a daily visitor ever since.
Knowing Charlotte preferred to park at the side of the house and use the back entrance, Olivia opened the door off the kitchen.
Her mother smiled as she entered the house. “I hoped I’d catch you before you had a nap,” she said. She placed the basket on the table and quickly divested herself of purse and coat, hanging them on the hook by the door. Charlotte rarely stopped by without bringing some kind of treat, generally something homemade.
“Mom,” Olivia joked, “I outgrew naps when I was four, remember?”
“I know, dear,” Charlotte said, without taking offense, “but you need your rest, especially now.”
“I slept in this morning.” Olivia’s normal routine had her out of bed at six and in the courthouse by eight-thirty.
The sheer luxury of not setting the alarm each night could become habit-forming, she thought.
“Slept in until what time?” Charlotte asked as she folded back the basket’s red-checkered cloth and brought out a tin of cookies and an orange Bundt cake that just happened to be one of Jack’s favorites.
“Nearly eight.”
Her mother looked over her shoulder and pretended to gasp. “My, that’s so late.”
