I exhaled loudly. “Between you and me? No. And Rose isn’t going to stop until she proves that she did.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger. “There’s something I need your opinion on.”
“What is it?”
“Glenn told me Saturday that he saw Jeff Cameron driving early Thursday morning.”
One eyebrow went up. “Thursday morning? Is he certain?”
“That’s the thing. He’s certain about the day. He says it was Jeff’s Jeep—that glow-in-the-dark yellow color is pretty distinctive. And he’s positive it was a man driving. Heck, he’s positive it was Jeff driving.”
Mac studied my face. “But you’re not so sure.”
“It was early and he saw the Jeep from a distance.”
Mac put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s really bothering you?”
“If Jeff Cameron is alive, why hasn’t he used a credit or a debit card?”
“Because he’s trying to keep the charade that his wife murdered him going.”
“But why?” I held out both hands. “That’s what I can’t figure out. Why?”
“Would a cup of coffee help?” Mac asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Or maybe you should bring the pot and a straw.”
Mac laughed. “It’ll work out in the end.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” I asked.
He smiled. “Because it always does.”
I managed to get both chairs sprayed and was just cleaning up when I looked up to see Nick getting out of his truck. I waited, one paint-speckled hand on the top of my makeshift spray box, as he walked over to me.
“Hi,” he said. “Michelle asked me to come by to hear what Rose and the others came up with.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Nick shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry for what happened Thursday night. I should have been straight with you.”
I believed him. I could see that he was sorry in the way he was standing, in his voice, in the way his fingers played with his watchband. But what he was sorry about was pretending he agreed with me. He wasn’t sorry for not believing Rose.
“Thank you,” I said.
He opened his mouth to say something else and I caught sight of Rose headed toward us.
She gave him an expectant smile. “Do you have any results yet?”
Nick shook his head and pulled his gaze away from me. “No. I’m sorry it’s taking so long. The lab is busy, but I should have something this afternoon. I promise I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”
“Thank you, dear,” she said. “We missed you Saturday night. Alfred planked a salmon.”
“I know. Mom fed me the leftovers for lunch yesterday.” He smiled at Rose. “I have to give my compliments to the chef. He’s a good cook.”
“Alfred has many talents,” Rose replied.
I made a mental note to ask her later what planking a salmon meant and to stay away from any conversation about Mr. P’s many other talents. I picked up the cut-down cardboard box and set it inside the garage. Then I stood in the doorway for a moment watching Rose and Nick talk. The conversation seemed to be about cooking, although I couldn’t hear every word.
I reminded myself that Nick loved Rose. She was family to him just as much as she was to me. He was loyal and protective and funny and kind and a lot more. And there was something wrong if I always had to be reminding myself of that, I thought as I joined them again.
Michelle arrived then, pulling her car in next to Nick’s truck. She walked over to us. “How are you feeling?” she said to Rose.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” Rose said. She patted her white hair. “I guess I am as hardheaded as I’ve been told I am.”
“Well, this is one of those times I’m glad about that,” Michelle said. “I hope it’s all right that I asked Nick to join us.”
“Of course it is,” Rose said. “We’re always happy to have Nick around, aren’t we, Sarah?”
Nick swiped a hand over his mouth to hide a smile.
“Always,” I agreed, “especially when he brings muffins from McNamara’s.” I smiled sweetly up at Nick, hoping he’d get my reference to a past disagreement we’d had when he’d apologized with one of Glenn’s muffins.
“So you’re suggesting I should stop in at McNamara’s the next time I’m headed here?” he teased.
“You’re so thoughtful,” Rose said. “We all like Glenn’s blueberry muffins, but this time of year the rhubarb streusel muffins are hard to say no to.” She smiled at him.
Michelle had a hard time not smiling as well. “Is Mr. Peterson inside?” she asked.
I nodded and we started across the lot to the back door. Mr. P. got to his feet as we stepped into the sunporch. “Hello, Detective Andrews,” he said, offering his hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m interested in what you’ve learned,” Michelle said, dipping her head in the direction of his laptop.
Mr. P. smiled up at Nick. “Hello, Nicolas,” he said. “Are you joining us?”
Michelle immediately spoke up. “I asked him to. I hope it’s all right.”
“Of course,” Mr. P. said. He quickly explained what the Angels had learned about Jeff Cameron, how he’d changed his name and walked away from his life after his grandmother died. How no one had seen him with any other woman in North Harbor.
“His name was Hennessy?” Michelle said. She seemed to be taking what he’d told her and Nick seriously.
Mr. P. nodded. “Two ‘s’s,’ two ‘n’s,’” he said.
“Do you have a theory as to where Jeff Cameron is right now?” she asked.
“We have two,” he said. “One is that he’s dead. The other is that he set up his wife to make it look like he’s dead, although we don’t have any idea why.”
Nick’s and Michelle’s cell phones both rang then. “Excuse me,” she said, pulling hers from the pocket of her cotton sweater and turning around so her back was to us. Nick had already stepped out of the room to answer his.
The conversation was brief. Michelle’s face was expressionless when she faced us again. “Well, Mr. Peterson, I’m sorry to tell you that one of your theories is wrong. Jeff Cameron definitely didn’t fake his death.”
My heart sank. Nick was putting his own phone back in his pocket, his lips pulled into a thin line.
“What makes you so sure?” Mr. P. asked, although I suspected he knew the answer, too.
“A couple of rock climbers on Johnson’s Reach found him. I’m sorry. He’s dead.”
Chapter 14
“Dead,” Rose repeated, and not in the form of a question.
I saw Nick’s gaze flick in her direction.
“The poor man,” she said quietly. I was probably the only one who saw the knowing gleam flash for a moment in her gray eyes.
“I have to go,” Michelle said.
“Thursday?” I asked, referring to Thursday night jam at Sam’s.
“I’ll try.” She pushed past Nick. “See you there?” she asked.
He nodded. “I just need a second.”
She nodded and left. Nick caught my arm and drew me out by the back door. “I have to go. Are we okay?”
“Yes,” I said. “Go.”
He hesitated.
“Go,” I repeated. This time he went.
I rejoined Rose and Mr. P.
“Johnson’s Reach is a couple of miles from the Camerons’ cottage,” Rose said. “How did his body get there?”
“I don’t know,” I said, scraping a couple of spots of sage green paint off the back of my hand. “Michelle will figure that out.” I couldn’t help thinking that it was a heck of a lot closer to Clayton McNamara’s house, which added credence to Glenn’s recollection of having seen Jeff on Thursday.
“Sarah’s right,” Mr. P. said, sitting back down and opening his laptop.
I had a feeling Michelle wouldn’t be the only one working on how Jeff Cameron had ended up at Johnson’s Reach.
“Before I go, did you find out anything about Michael Vega?” I asked.