Sheriff Davis gave him a hint of a smile. “I don’t see it falling that way myself.”
“Don’t forget, the bottle was in the car.”
“Right.”
That didn’t automatically clear Beldon, but it suggested Russell had brought the water with him.
“Do you think it could’ve been a random killing?” Roy asked. There seemed to be more of them these days.
He could tell that Davis had considered the same idea. “Perhaps, but I think it’s unlikely.”
Roy nodded. Too many factors in this case, including the method used, led him to believe the murder hadn’t been a random anything. Whoever they were dealing with was smart. And vicious.
“I don’t think this was the first attempt on Russell’s life, either,” Roy murmured.
“My thoughts exactly,” the sheriff said. He straightened, leaning toward his desk. “The car accident that killed his wife sounds mighty convenient to me. I read the report, but there’s nothing I can put my finger on. No real evidence.”
The crash had been attributed to driver error. In light of recent events, he wondered. Two of the men who’d been together in the jungle that day were dead and both had died under peculiar circumstances.
“What about Dan Sherman?” Roy asked. “Are you convinced it was suicide?”
The sheriff didn’t hesitate. “No doubt. He left that letter, too.”
Roy didn’t like the route his mind was taking him. Two men were dead, one of them murdered. If Bob wasn’t involved—and both Troy Davis and Roy were sure he wasn’t—then that led Roy to one conclusion.
“Bob Beldon’s in danger,” he said.
Davis sat back. “Funny you should say that.”
“Why?”
“I had the same feeling myself. I went out to talk to him yesterday afternoon.”
A chill went up Roy’s spine.
“I suggested he might want to take an extended vacation while we check this theory out,” the sheriff continued.
“What did he say?”
Troy Davis frowned. “He’s a stubborn man. Bob said he’d done all the running he intended to do. Said anyone who wants to kill him is welcome to try.”
Roy guessed Peggy hadn’t been around for that conversation.
Troy shook his head. “Not only that, he says he can’t leave. Jack Griffin asked Bob to be his best man, and Bob intends to do it.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“First week of May.”
Roy mulled that over and nodded. “It’s been over a year since Russell died,” he said. “If nothing’s happened in all this time, then perhaps nothing will.”
“Perhaps,” Troy Davis returned.
But his tone of voice convinced Roy the sheriff didn’t believe it. For that matter, neither did he.
Over the last few months, he’d come to like Bob and Peggy. He’d consider it a personal affront if his friend turned up dead.
* * *
Rosie waited anxiously until she heard the rat-a-tat-tat on the apartment door. Leaping up from the sofa, she hurried to answer it. She was halfway across the living room when the door opened and Zach stepped inside.
As if it’d been weeks since she’d last seen him, Rosie flew into his embrace. Zach wrapped his arms around her waist, half lifting her from the floor. Not a second passed before his mouth found hers. Their kisses were deep and urgent, reminiscent of their college days. The spark that had been missing during the last few years of their marriage was back—and bright enough to start a fire.
When Zach set her feet on the carpet again, Rosie’s head was spinning with desire. Forgotten was her intent to discuss so many of the pressing issues that clamored for attention. Instead, all she could think about was the warmth of his touch and the need he created within her.
“Don’t you think meeting like this is a little ridiculous?” she murmured.
“Do you?”
“No.” She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him.
Zach kissed her back and all too soon they were in the bedroom—his bedroom. Two days earlier, they’d ended up in hers, and the time before that they hadn’t even made it to a bed.
“We’re supposed to talk,” Rosie reminded him in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Her head rested against his naked shoulder. They were sprawled on top of the bedcovers, with her arm draped across his waist.
“I know, but when I see you the last thing I feel like doing is talking.”
Rosie understood perfectly. She was as hungry for Zach as he was for her.
“Did you tell the kids where you were going?” she asked, a little embarrassed that their children might have guessed they’d turned the apartment into a love nest. Even the old-fashioned term made her wince.
Zach chuckled. “You’re joking, right?”
Rosie sighed and rubbed her cheek against his chest, loving the warm feel of his skin. Closing her eyes, she inhaled Zach’s scent—distinctively his and almost enough to arouse her all over again. “I think it’s important that we talk, though.”
“I do, too,” Zach agreed, “but unfortunately I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”
Rosie had to admit she liked this resurgence of their love life—liked it a lot. As for wasting their precious time at the apartment in bed, well, she didn’t have any complaints.
“The kids aren’t blind, you know,” Zach said as his hand made slow, lazy circles on the small of her back. “They have a fairly good idea who I’m sneaking out to see.”
“Allison said as much,” Rosie told him.
“Okay, so the kids are in favor of our reconciliation,” Zach said, sounding serious, “but are we?”
“How do you mean?”
“Are we ready to get back together? Should we? I love you, Rosie, and you love me. I’ve always loved you, but even now I don’t understand how two people who genuinely love each other could let themselves get divorced.”
Rosie nodded. “I made a lot of mistakes,” she said soberly.
“So did I,” Zach was quick to admit. “I don’t want to rehash everything we did wrong, but on the other hand, I’m not willing to ignore what happened and then repeat our mistakes.”
“I feel the same way.” The thought of going through that terrible tension again was intolerable. She couldn’t live like that, and she knew Zach couldn’t, either. Nor could they inflict this nightmare on their children a second time.
“I’d like to continue teaching,” Rosie said. Her contribution to their problems had to do with the fact that she’d volunteered for absolutely every committee, group, field day and task force that came up. She’d developed a reputation as the consummate volunteer, the woman who couldn’t say no.
Before the divorce, she had commitments and obligations that took her away from the house most days and every night of the week. It had started when Zach was so busy preparing tax returns. She was lonely and looking for a social outlet, a way to be part of the community. Her volunteering had grown into a time-consuming monster that had threatened to destroy her and her family.
“I always wanted to be the perfect wife and mother,” she