.
that, although Roy knew he’d do his best to trick him into revealing his sources.
“During your investigation, did you run into the names Max Russell or Stewart Samuels, by any chance?” Roy asked. Those were the other two men who’d been with Dan Sherman and Bob Beldon in that patrol in Vietnam. Bob had told him how the four had become separated from their squad and stumbled into the village. Four men, four lives, each marked by that afternoon. Roy had located Samuels, who’d remained in the military and had a distinguished record of service. Of the four, he seemed the least affected by the events in Nam. Russell, however, had lived a troubled life after his release from the army. Like Beldon and Dan Sherman…
“I might have.” Davis leaned across his desk, nudging a stack of files that tilted precariously.
Roy was sure Davis couldn’t have heard about the men and had to be bluffing.
Davis riffled through the files until he found the one he wanted and flipped it open. Roy wasn’t surprised that Davis kept the John Doe case file close at hand. The sheriff leafed through it, then raised his eyes to meet Roy’s. “Are you going to tell me where you came up with these names?”
Roy grinned and slid down in his chair, crossing his arms. “No.” He had to protect Bob as much as possible. Even now, he couldn’t be sure of the extent of the other man’s involvement. He wanted to believe Beldon was an innocent bystander, but too many of the dots still didn’t connect.
The sheriff chuckled. “Why did I know you were going to say that?”
Roy didn’t bother to answer.
“Can you tell me why I have the sneaking suspicion either Max Russell or Stewart Samuels is going to be listed as a missing person?”
Making an effort not to look self-righteous, Roy shrugged.
“Help me out a little, if you would,” Troy muttered, turning to face his computer screen. “Can you at least give me a state?”
“I could do that, but I’d hate to see you miss out on the fun of the chase. You might want to start with Russell, though.”
Troy glanced up, frowning darkly.
“California,” Roy said.
“Not Florida?” The dead man’s false ID had given a Florida address. Davis looked surprised as he punched a few keys, stared at the screen and then peered over the top of his reading glasses. “Are you planning to tell me how you got Russell’s name?”
“No.”
Troy exhaled slowly. “This is our John Doe?”
Roy couldn’t be sure of that, but he had his suspicions. “Might be.”
Troy continued to study the screen. “When did you find all this out?”
Roy gave him a halfhearted smile. “A while back. I dug up what I could and now I’ve decided it’s time to bring you into the investigation.”
Davis snorted. “I appreciate that, but I wish you’d come to me sooner.”
Roy still wasn’t a hundred-percent sure he was doing the right thing, as far as Bob or Grace Sherman were concerned, but withholding material information put him at risk of committing a crime himself. In his view, everything revolved around what those four men had done in Vietnam.
Troy tapped his fingers on the desk. “Before I go making an idiot of myself, did you talk to anyone in California?”
“Like who?”
His gaze went back to the computer screen. He did some more typing and glanced at Roy again. “Hannah Russell,” he said. “Says here she’s the one who filed the missing person’s report.” He scrolled down. “Probably the wife.”
“Daughter,” Roy corrected.
“Did you talk to her?” Davis demanded. The friendly pretense was gone now.
“And step into the middle of your investigation, Sheriff?” he asked. “Would I do that?”
“I hope to hell not, but I thought I’d better ask.”
“She’s all yours,” he said. His purpose in making this visit had been achieved. He’d leave the rest in Sheriff Davis’s capable hands. “I don’t suppose you’d like to thank me.”
“No,” Davis barked. “I’d like to know how long you’ve been holding on to this information.”
That wasn’t a question Roy wanted to answer. He’d kept it to himself as long as he dared. If possible, he wanted to keep Dan Sherman’s family out of this.
“Any idea why our John Doe arrived in Cedar Cove carrying false identification?”
“That I can’t tell you,” Roy said. The sheriff would talk to Hannah Russell, and would eventually check out Samuels, too. Roy’s investigation had led him to the other man, who lived in the Washington, D. C. area, but Roy hadn’t contacted him. He’d leave that to Davis, as well.
“What about the reconstructive surgery? I hear some people in town still think it was Dan Sherman. DNA says otherwise.”
“I’d trust what the lab tells you,” Roy said, lost in his thoughts.
“I do, but I’ve heard the rumors.”
Roy had, too. People liked to speculate. It was mighty convenient to believe the dead man could’ve been Dan Sherman, although Roy hadn’t heard much talk of that in recent days.
Roy stood to leave. He’d said everything he intended to and not a word more.
Davis stood, too. “I’ll thank you, then.”
Roy walked out of the office and through the department. He’d thought hard about this visit. He wouldn’t betray Beldon’s trust, but there was certain information he could no longer withhold. Beldon was the one who’d given him Russell’s and Samuels’s names—and given him permission to tell the sheriff.
Four unsuspecting soldiers had been trapped in a Southeast Asian jungle that day and walked straight into hell. What happened next had forever altered the lives of these men, whose sole desire was to come home alive. They’d seen too many of their friends and comrades leave Vietnam in body bags. To them, at that time, it was kill or be killed. War had changed them, changed their world.
Corrie was waiting when Roy returned to the office. “How’d it go?” she asked.
Roy took off his jacket and hung it on the coat tree in the entry. “About as well as could be expected,” he murmured.
“Does Bob know you’ve talked to Troy Davis?” she asked.
Jack had been looking forward to this Friday night for two weeks. Because of some commitment Olivia had at the courthouse, she was working late today and had agreed to meet him for dinner at The Lighthouse. They hadn’t had a real honest-to-goodness date since before Christmas, and he’d missed her company. Oh, there’d been lots of phone calls, a couple of quick cups of coffee, but they were both busy people with complicated lives.
The newspaper conglomerate, which had bought out the once privately owned paper a few years ago, was investigating the possibility of increasing publication from biweekly to five days a week and eventually taking it to a full seven. While the thought of those extra issues and journalistic opportunities excited him, he wasn’t sure this additional responsibility would be worth the toll it would take on his personal life. A daily paper meant hiring and training extra staff, editorial meetings, more administrative duties.
There was no better way to hook a newsman than offering him more column space. His publisher was well aware of that fact and was using it to his advantage—that and a hefty pay raise. Still, Jack hesitated. As it was, he didn’t see nearly as much of Olivia as he wanted to. He hoped that, someday in the near future, she’d become a permanent part of his life.
“Would