of flavored water,” he said, answering his own question.
“Did Russell’s daughter happen to take that with her?”
Davis shook his head. “She read it on the list, said it wasn’t unusual for her father to drink bottled water.” He shrugged. “I didn’t offer to give it to her—don’t have it anymore.”
Roy could feel his heart start to pound. “Don’t tell me you tossed it.”
“Nope.” Davis was grinning now. “I sent it off to the toxicology lab.”
Their eyes met and they nodded at each other in unspoken agreement. “My guess is, this death wasn’t as natural as some would like to believe,” Davis said.
“Why was he killed?”
“Why travel with fake identification? Why come to Cedar Cove in the first place?”
“He came to see Beldon,” Roy said. He was confident of that much.
“Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe that wasn’t the only reason he showed up in Cedar Cove.”
“What other reason could there be?”
Sheriff Davis leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied look. “Maybe he came to find out what happened to Dan Sherman.”
Twenty-Six
“I don’t need a baby-sitter,” Eddie insisted, defiantly crossing his arms. He glared at Allison, his eyes narrowed, as he silently challenged her to say otherwise.
“Do, too,” Allison retorted. Zach’s daughter had never been able to walk away from a dare, especially one issued by her little brother.
“I think we should leave now,” Zach whispered to Rosie under his breath, “before the kids give us an excuse to stay.”
“Tell her,” Eddie demanded, pleading with his father.
Zach sympathized with the boy, but there were limitations to what he could say and do. “Baby-sitters get paid, and your sister isn’t getting anything to stay home with you.”
“You mean I’m doing this for nothing?” Allison cried, but the outrage was all for show and Zach knew it.
Eddie was only partially mollified, but he didn’t protest again when Zach led Rosie out the front door. “The kids’ll be fine.”
Rosie agreed. “I’ve been dying to see this movie.”
“Me, too,” Zach said as he hurried ahead to open the car door for her.
To his astonishment, she stared at the door and didn’t move.
“What?” he asked, slightly annoyed. Granted, it was an old-fashioned courtesy, but Rosie had never objected to it before.
“It’s…it’s just that it’s been a long time since you opened the car door for me.”
Zach felt a little shocked. He knew she was talking about the last year of their marriage, and he supposed she was right. They’d treated each other without considerateness or respect, and the disappearance of small courtesies was a symptom of that.
“It’s a nice touch, Zach, it always was. Thank you.” She slipped into the car and reached for her seat belt.
Zach hurried around the front of the vehicle. This was their third “date.” Their first had been dinner the night Rosie had wept and the children had called him. He still didn’t understand what that had been all about, but she seemed to feel better after they’d talked. Even now, almost two weeks later, he didn’t remember exactly what they’d discussed that evening; what he remembered was how comfortable it felt to spend time with Rosie again.
In the mess they’d made of their lives, Zach had forgotten one important fact. Rosie had been more than his wife—she’d been his friend. He’d missed the little confidences they’d once shared, the small private jokes, the conversations in bed late at night. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about those things until recently, and he realized how much he missed her. How much he missed the way they used to be…
This week the kids were on spring break and Rosie had five free days. They’d already met for lunch on Monday afternoon. On the spur of the moment, they’d decided to take in a show on “Tightwad Tuesday,” when all movies were three dollars. Popcorn and soda, however, stayed the same price. Rosie was the one who enjoyed popcorn, especially the buttered variety.
The movie, a romantic comedy, had been given rave reviews. While Zach paid for their tickets, Rosie stood in line for popcorn. This was a rare night out for Zach during tax season; most evenings he was in the office until seven or eight.
They chose seats in the back of the theater and toward the middle. He noticed several people glancing in their direction and a few heads moving together in hushed whispers.
“People are talking about us,” Rosie said.
“Well, we are divorced,” Zach reminded her with a grin. “Divorced people generally don’t go out on dates.”
“True,” she said. “Sad commentary, isn’t it? We get along better now that we’re divorced than while we were married.”
“Yeah.” Zach couldn’t deny it. “At least during the last few years of our marriage.”
“Why did that happen, do you think?”
Zach was saved from having to answer because the lights dimmed and music blared from the sound system. Soon the previews began, about fifteen minutes’ worth, with lots of noise and frantic action.
The movie itself was delightful. More than once, Zach laughed out loud. Although he claimed he wasn’t interested in popcorn, he ate more than half of Rosie’s small bag, which she willingly shared. About halfway through the show, Zach realized they were holding hands, just like they had while they’d dated during college.
When the lights came back on, they remained seated for a few minutes, enjoying the lingering effects of the movie and the music. People started to leave the theater; several nodded at Zach and Rosie. She was right—they’d caused something of a stir. Well, good. Let people talk all they wanted. He didn’t object.
“It’s been ages since I laughed that hard,” Rosie said, standing.
“Me, too!”
“And even longer since we laughed together.”
Zach could only agree.
Because he was so busy at the office and because it was spring break and the kids were home, they’d decided it would be best if Rosie stayed at the house the entire week. Zach drove her back there.
As he headed toward Pelican Court, they chatted about the movie, laughing again at the antics of the characters and the cleverness of the plot. All too soon, he’d reached the house. Zach wasn’t ready for the evening to end, but he didn’t know if Rosie felt the same.
When he pulled into the driveway, they sat silently in the car, as if each was waiting
