50 Harbor Street. Debbie Macomber

the mighty Roy McAfee over the edge.”

      Linnette laughed, noticing anew what an attractive man her brother was. His build was similar to their father’s, but as far as his looks went, he took after Grandpa Wilson, their mother’s father.

      “Do you think they’re in any real danger?” Mack asked seriously.

      “I don’t know. I’ve tried to get Mom to tell me how long this has been going on, but she doesn’t want to worry me. The fact that she won’t talk about it concerns me more. I told her that, and she got all teary and said Dad’s been completely unreasonable.”

      “That’s unusual?” Mack teased.

      Linnette shook her head, smiling. “Apparently there’s been more than the postcards.” She sat down on the sofa beside her brother and stroked Lucky’s head. “Mom said something about a fruit basket being delivered.”

      “They didn’t eat any of it, did they?”

      “I don’t know what they did with it. I assume they threw it away. That one really freaked Mom out.”

      “I can imagine. I wonder if it’s part of this person’s method. You know, kill them with kindness, confuse the enemy—and then move in with the real agenda.”

      Linnette hadn’t thought of it that way. “You and Dad might not get along, but you’re more alike than you realize.”

      Mack cringed. “Don’t tell me that. The last person in the world I want to be like is my father.”

      “He’s not so bad,” Linnette felt obliged to tell him. “And neither are you. One of these days, the two of you will come to an understanding.”

      “Maybe,” Mack said doubtfully. “I hope we do, but I’m not holding my breath.”

      A polite knock sounded at Linnette’s door. Lucky was suddenly alert; she gave one brief bark and stared intently.

      Brother and sister glanced at each other, and then Linnette went to the door. A woman, dressed in a brown sheriff’s uniform, stood on the other side, holding a small pot of bronze chrysanthemums.

      “Hello, I’m your neighbor, Gloria Ashton,” she said as she handed Linnette the plant.

      “Linnette McAfee,” she said, admiring the rich color of the chrysanthemums. “Mom told me everyone in Cedar Cove is friendly. This is just so nice. Please come in.” She stood aside so Gloria could step into her apartment. Linnette gestured toward her brother. “Gloria, this is my brother, Mack. Mack, this is my next-door neighbor, Gloria Ashton.”

      Mack released the dog’s collar, then stood and offered Gloria his hand. She took a step forward and extended her own. “This is Lucky,” he said. The dog waved her plumy tail, then returned to her place by the couch.

      “I’m two doors down in apartment 216. I saw your brother and a couple of other guys bringing in the furniture. I thought I’d stop by on my way to work and introduce myself. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I wasn’t sure when I’d get another opportunity.”

      “You’re with the sheriff’s office here?” Linnette asked. Gloria stood with her feet braced slightly apart, hands on her belt. She was short, petite, dark-haired; her uniform fit as if it’d been especially designed for her. The belt that held her weapon and other paraphernalia only emphasized her femininity.

      Gloria shook her head in response to Linnette’s question. “I’m with the Bremerton office. I’ve been in the area a little less than a year.”

      Mack stared at her and narrowed his eyes, as if he was trying to place her. “You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

      Gloria studied him, frowning, and then shook her head again. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

      Mack shrugged. “I guess not. I don’t visit often, but when I do I always drive the speed limit.”

      “Yeah, right.” Linnette snickered and her brother elbowed her in the ribs.

      “You don’t live in Cedar Cove?” Gloria asked.

      “Too close to family,” he muttered. “They cramp my style.” He laughed at his own weak joke and sat down.

      “Could you join us for a few minutes?” Linnette asked. “I apologize—I can’t offer you anything to drink. I haven’t been to the grocery store yet.”

      “I have to go, but thanks, anyway.” Gloria checked her watch. “I thought this would be a good time to welcome you to the complex. If you have any questions about the town, I’ll be happy to try and answer them.”

      “That would be great,” Linnette told her. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

      “I hope you do.” After a few parting words, Gloria was gone.

      Linnette waited until the door closed before she turned on her brother. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” Linnette mimicked. “Honestly, Mack, that’s the oldest pickup line in the world.”

      “I wasn’t trying to pick her up.”

      “Mack, you couldn’t have been more obvious.”

      “Well, she is cute.”

      “Oh, please. You’re so lame.”

      “Me? This is the thanks I get for giving up an entire Saturday to help my sister?”

      “Okay, you’re right. Sorry. If you’re interested in Gloria, let me know and I’ll see what I can do to set you up—since you’re currently footloose and fancy-free.”

      Mack raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Sure. But the truth is, she does look familiar.”

       Twelve

      Saturday night, Allison Cox was roused from a sound sleep by a tap on her bedroom window. Her clock told her it was almost three. She turned on the small light on her bed stand, tossed aside her down comforter and hurried to the window. Opening the blinds, she peered outside and gasped when Anson smiled at her.

      “Let me in,” he mouthed.

      She’d be in big trouble if her parents ever found out about this. Although the temptation was almost overpowering, she shook her head. “I can’t.”

      He nodded vigorously and rubbed his bare hands together. Then he hunched his shoulders, as if to ward off the wind. His eyes pleaded with her.

      “Anson, no.” She shook her head again, trying to convince herself.