High Country Cop
Cynthia Thomason
He’ll always love Miranda Jefferson…But this cop has a job to do.Seeing his high school sweetheart after fourteen years fills Holly River police chief Carter Cahill with so many conflicting emotions. One thing hasn’t changed—the love that brought them together in the first place. But the single mother’s asking something Carter isn’t sure he can give. Is he a man who follows the law… or his heart?
He’ll always love Miranda Jefferson...
But this cop has a job to do.
Seeing his high school sweetheart after fourteen years fills Holly River police chief Carter Cahill with so many conflicting emotions. One thing hasn’t changed—the love that brought them together in the first place. But the single mother’s asking something Carter isn’t sure he can give. Is he a man who follows the law...or his heart?
CYNTHIA THOMASON inherited her love of writing from her ancestors. Her father and grandmother both loved to write, and she aspired to continue the legacy. Cynthia studied English and journalism in college, and after a career as a high school English teacher, she began writing novels. She discovered ideas for stories while searching through antiques stores and flea markets and as an auctioneer and estate buyer. Cynthia says every cast-off item from someone’s life can ignite the idea for a plot. She writes about small towns, big hearts and happy endings that are earned and not taken for granted. And as far as the legacy is concerned, just ask her son, the magazine journalist, if he believes.
Also By Cynthia Thomason (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6)
Rescued by Mr. Wrong
The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers
A Boy to Remember
Firefly Nights
This Hero for Hire
A Soldier’s Promise
Blue Ridge Autumn
Marriage for Keeps
Dilemma at Bayberry Cove
His Most Important Win
The Men of Thorne Island
Your House or Mine?
An Unlikely Match
An Unlikely Father
An Unlikely Family
Deal Me In
Return of the Wild Son
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
High Country Cop
Cynthia Thomason
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08089-7
HIGH COUNTRY COP
© 2018 Cynthia Thomason
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“You’re a good man. You’ve always been a...”
Carter stopped her by lowering his head to stare at the floor. For one life-changing moment he considered what he was about to do, and then he cast aside his doubts. Her eyes met his, moist and bright, and he pressed his lips to hers. The years separating them melted away as he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. The contact seemed to last for a blissful eternity and yet was over in an instant.
He dropped his hands, backed away. He felt her breath on his mouth, still warm from their kiss.
“Oh, Carter...” she whispered. She splayed her palm against his chest, her lips parted. He was certain she could feel the racing of his heart.
He blinked hard, swallowed. “This is crazy, Miranda. We can’t do this.”
Dear Reader (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6),
Places of the heart.
We all have them, and they are different for all of us. But they stir us, comfort us and always call us back. I have been returning every summer to my place of the heart, the high country of North Carolina, three counties of majestic beauty and unrivaled thrills in the highest mountains of the Blue Ridge Parkway.
It was only natural that I would set a trilogy of stories in this unequaled land of forests and mountaintops. This is the debut book of the series, The Cahills of North Carolina. The title is High Country Cop, and it is the story of Carter Cahill, chief of police in the small town of Holly River. I hope you enjoy reading about Carter’s journey to true love, and I hope you take a moment to think of the place of your heart. Look for Jace Cahill’s story next, and following that one, Ava Cahill’s.
Happy reading,
Cynthia
PS: I love hearing from readers. You can contact me at cynthoma@aol.com.
This book is dedicated to all the small-town cops who do so much more for their communities than just enforce the law. And a special thank-you to the folks at Sugar Plum Farms in Plum Tree, North Carolina, for all their advice on growing those magnificent Fraser firs. Any mistakes are mine and not theirs.
Contents
Cover (#u3608bb49-8c1e-57aa-9aae-eb035dd68bc7)
Back Cover Text (#u3e3e9206-6134-5429-904a-4923de1a09cb)
About the Author (#uf6b4e857-36d9-5585-8258-ebaf09a3ebbe)
Booklist (#u3f535967-eb14-599c-856a-766792c48b2a)
Title Page (#u2a89778b-f80d-5af6-82f0-ccd44e64a362)
Copyright (#u70d9084e-b333-59b5-a885-c90854e83708)
Introduction (#u76f0b0c1-ccc3-5cc4-9909-1ada5c36a533)
Dear Reader (#ua692ef56-1fde-5e41-9082-73c1fedd8e66)
Dedication (#u15e238a5-a4c9-56a5-9238-f2d55dc96b0b)
CHAPTER ONE (#u359d637b-534a-5776-9e27-01af9313105e)
CHAPTER TWO (#ua8def977-644c-53b3-b369-73965babb607)
CHAPTER THREE (#u922f2dcd-e199-5bd4-9582-fad68065096a)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u62ffbeb8-1b17-5af4-87a8-fc098edcdc6c)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ub879d019-83e1-5b78-b32f-4b6a8dbaf3e8)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6)
CHIEF OF POLICE Carter Cahill was working the ten-to-six shift in Holly River, North Carolina, on this Friday. Since he had some extra time in the morning, he’d driven the patrol car out to Hidden Creek Road and stopped in to do some chores for his widowed mother. Carter or his younger brother, Jace, stopped by the family home at least once a week to help Cora with her to-do list.
Satisfied that the leaky pipe under the kitchen sink was fixed, Carter headed back to town, the place he’d called home his entire life. When his cell phone rang, and he recognized the number of the police station, he initiated the car speaker. “This is Carter. What is it, Betsy?” he asked his dispatcher.
“Just got a call from a witness who said he could shed some light on last night’s break-in at the hardware store, Carter.”
“What did he say?”
“That he saw Dale Jefferson’s old Jeep in the alley behind the store at the approximate time of the robbery.”
Carter wasn’t surprised. Whenever a crime was committed in Holly River, Dale’s name was usually suggested as the perpetrator, or at least as someone who could provide information. In all fairness, if Dale was guilty of even 20 percent of the crimes he’d been accused of, Carter didn’t know when he’d have time to eat or sleep. Dale was adept at not getting caught. He’d served only a handful of short stints in the county lockup though he’d been accused of everything from public intoxication to stealing grapes from the supermarket.
“Who is the witness?” Carter asked Betsy.
“Mitch Calloway.”
“Great, another call from Mitch. Maybe someday he’ll get over the fact that Dale stole a few chickens from his coop and quit associating the guy with every minor crime in Holly River.”
Betsy chuckled. “It’s no secret that Mitch, and most everybody else in town, would like to see Dale locked up for good, but you’re going to investigate anyway, aren’t you?”
“Of course. Since I’m so close to the station, I’ll stop on my way and see who’s on duty today. I doubt I’ll have any trouble at the Jefferson place, but it never hurts to know who my backup is.”
He drove the last few blocks of downtown Holly River, an area that was familiar and comforting to Carter. The town consisted of quaint streets, a few mom-and-pop restaurants and shops, churches and a small college. There was one traffic light in the middle of everything, which was conveniently located between the police station and his brother’s mountain adventure business, High Mountain Rafting. Carter noticed Jace’s SUV in the parking lot of High Mountain and figured Jace was preparing for the day’s first white-water trip. In view was Sawtooth Mountain, the highest peak in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Once he determined that Sam McCall, the department’s newest rookie and Carter’s friend, was his backup, Carter left the station and headed out in the direction of Laurel Hollow Road, where the Jefferson clan had lived for decades. The fifteen-minute drive to Liggett Mountain would take Carter from the charming ambiance of sleepy Holly River to the run-down shabbiness of the cabins outside town. This was the part of the county the tourists never saw and the part where few residents ever managed to escape their poverty.
He smiled when he remembered Betsy’s warning when he’d left. “You take care, Carter,” she’d said. She was almost like a favorite aunt and never failed to issue similar warnings to all of Holly River’s eight officers.
Soon the terraced, manicured lawns of Holly River’s more prosperous residents gave way to the scrub and unkempt forested areas of the folks who couldn’t afford gardeners, HOA bills or even ride-on lawnmowers. Some of the lawns, if a guy could even call them that, hadn’t been tended in years and had been taken over by rocks and dry, sandy soil.
An old tire with a weary-looking mailbox post sprouting from its center marked the Jefferson cabin, the one Dale’s parents had left to their oldest son—the one where the younger brother, Lawton, lived now after getting out of prison. Lawton hadn’t been as lucky as his older brother. He’d been caught red-handed spray painting the mayor’s BMW. That might not have landed him in the state penitentiary, but the twenty pounds of freshly manufactured methamphetamine next to the illegal firearm in the trunk of his old Buick did—for eight years.
As he pulled up the gravel drive to the house, Carter couldn’t help noticing how worn out this place was. He didn’t know why the battered chimney, looking like a mouth of missing teeth, was still standing. And surely the dozen patches on the shingle roof didn’t keep the rain out. Carter figured there wasn’t much extra cash for repairs. Dale’s part-time jobs barely kept the electricity on and oil heat burning in the winter.
Carter climbed the three steps leading to the narrow porch, careful to avoid the holes in the rotting wood. He knocked on the front door and waited.
After a minute, Dale answered, wearing flannel pants and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He scowled at Carter. “What is it this time, Carter? What’re the folks in town accusing me of now?”
As usual Dale appeared unkempt and soiled. His dark hair hung in limp strands to his shoulders. His face was gaunt. But strangely he didn’t look particularly tired, like he wasn’t out at one o’clock in the morning when the robbery supposedly took place. Dale grabbed the loose hair around his shoulders, pulled it all back to his nape and let it fall again. A tall man, he seemed thinner, more wiry than he had in recent years. His eyes were lined in the corners. His cheeks seemed high and hollow. If Dale was practicing a life of thievery again, Carter wondered why he didn’t target the supermarket in town. At least his thievery would benefit his health.
“Where were you last night, Dale?” Carter asked. “About one in the morning.”
“Just leaving the Muddy Duck,” he said. “Came home right after.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“Sure. Sheila was there all night. She’ll tell you she and I were the only ones in the bar that late.”
Carter nodded. Great. Dale’s on-again, off-again girlfriend who tended bar at the Duck would vouch for Dale anytime.
“We have a witness who says your vehicle was parked behind the hardware store on County Road 17.”
“That’s right,” Dale said. “I didn’t know there was a law against parking on a county road.”
“There’s not,” Carter said. “But the hardware store is more than a block from the tavern, so why did you park there?”
“I had a good reason. There’s a particular lady I didn’t want to see the Jeep in the area.” He grinned in a conspiratorial man-bonding way that meant nothing to Carter. “You know how it is, Carter. We can’t let all our lady friends know what we’re up to, now, can we?”
“Did you see any unusual activity along the road when you left?” Carter asked. “Maybe anyone sneaking around the hardware store?”
“Nope. The whole area was as quiet as a church.”
Carter took his phone from his pocket and reread an email he’d received that morning from the officer on duty. It contained a list of items gone missing from the store. Only twenty bucks had been left in the cash register by the owner. The full amount had been stolen, but the store owner, Carl Harker, was moaning as if he’d lost a fortune. One item caught Carter’s eye. He looked up at Dale. “You planning to start a garden anytime soon, Dale?”
“That’s an odd question, Carter. You know most of my food comes from the Baptist Food Bank. Why would I grow my own?”
“Just curious,” Carter said. Hoping Dale would slip up and mention some of the stolen property, Carter wasn’t about to tell Dale that a dozen irrigation hoses were taken, along with several pole-type sprinklers. He evaded by saying, “Seems like whoever took this stuff is planning to cultivate a crop in a major way.”
“Wouldn’t be me, Carter. I got enough work on my hands with my chickens and them goats out back.”
“Mind if I have a look around your place just the same?”
“You have a warrant, Carter?”
He didn’t, and by the time he requested one from the county judge, if Dale was the proud owner of a new sprinkling system, the evidence would be nowhere to be found. “I’ll come back with a warrant if I need one, but for now I’ll just keep my eyes open for any new crops going in,” he said.
Dale leaned against his door frame. “You know how it is...folks around here are always cultivating one thing or another, always waiting for a bumper crop.” He gave Carter another grin. “Is there anything else?”
“I think I’ll have a word with Lawton. Is he here?”
Dale jutted his thumb toward the back of the house. “He just got some company. The two of them are in the backyard discussing something, but I don’t suppose it will bother them if you interrupt. Besides, you know the person who showed up this morning out of the blue.”
Carter carefully maneuvered the steps to the ground. “I’ll just go around back, then. And, Dale...”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not forgetting that you were within a block of the robbery last night. So if you remember anything, even the smallest detail that might help us out, you give me a call.”
“You know I would, Carter...”
When hell freezes over... Carter thought.
Anything else Dale might have said was muffled by the closing of the door.
Now, who could be visiting Lawton? Carter wondered as he walked around the cabin. He’d been released from prison just two weeks ago, and Carter hadn’t heard that he’d made any friends or renewed acquaintances in town. In fact, Lawton hadn’t even been seen in town, except for a visit to the grocery store. Maybe his parole officer was here. Or someone from one of the church groups. Or maybe...
He stopped dead at the corner of the rear exterior wall of the cabin. Lawton sat on a rickety old bench beside a young woman—a woman whose posture and size and shape were so familiar to Carter that the breath was trapped in his lungs.
It couldn’t be Miranda. She didn’t have a reason to come back to Holly River. Her daddy was dead. Her mother had moved to a condo in Hickory. True, she’d been raised a Jefferson. Her family had lived for a few generations in these hills just like her cousins Dale and Lawton and their parents had. But Miranda hadn’t been able to wait to get away and make a life for herself. No matter whom she hurt in the process.
Her family had lived for years here on Liggett Mountain in a cabin slightly better than her cousins’. Still the more fortunate Jeffersons had struggled on one income brought in by Miranda’s father, Warren. Carter couldn’t take his eyes off the woman on the bench. Finally he released the breath he’d been holding. No, it wasn’t Miranda Jefferson, or Miranda Larson now. His Miranda...funny how that phrase popped back into his mind after so many years...had light brown hair. This woman’s shoulder-length waves had streaks of blond. He blinked hard. A successful woman could afford to change her hair color, couldn’t she?
Rooted to the ground, Carter continued to stare at the back of the woman’s head. Surely he would know if he was anywhere near Miranda, even today after fourteen years. Back then, when they’d graduated from high school, the electricity had seemed to buzz around them. Their connection had been that strong, that heated.
“Are you a real policeman?”
The question came from Carter’s left. He hadn’t even been aware that another person was in the yard, an obvious mistake for a cop who was investigating a crime. He should have known. His head snapped to the left where he saw a little girl sitting on a tree stump, an electronic device of some kind in her hands. She had large round eyes, like Donny Larson’s, and sandy-colored curly hair like Donny’s. She was a miniature, feminine version of the man Carter once called his best friend.
“Ah, yeah, I’m real,” he said.
“Is someone in trouble?” the child asked.
“No, nothing like that.” Carter now knew without turning back to stare at the woman that Miranda Jefferson was sitting next to Lawton. Where else would this little girl look-alike of Donny Larson have come from?
But he did turn back and found Miranda’s gaze locked on his, her fathomless blue eyes just like always—slightly wary, questioning everything but now with a mother’s natural protectiveness.
“Carter...” The word fell from her lips without thought, seemingly without effort.
He moved toward her, his legs wooden, his heart pounding. Get a grip, Cahill, he said to himself. It’s not like you didn’t know this could happen. It’s not like you haven’t dreamed about it. Miranda still has kin in this area.
“Miranda...how? When did you get back? What are you doing here?” Stupid questions, but maybe the fact that he was a cop would make him look less stunned, more in control.
If anything, she was more beautiful than when she was a teenager. This new, mature woman, a few pounds heavier than the thin, athletic cheerleader who’d made the sun come up every morning for Carter, had filled out, toned up as if she worked out. Gone was the long hair she always wore in a ponytail, replaced with a modern shoulder-length cut and color that framed her face in a loose, casual style that didn’t look salon-made, but probably was.
Miranda stood. He quickly appraised her white blouse, dark-colored slacks and sensible black pumps. No, this woman was not the mountain girl he fell in love with years ago. This woman was sophisticated, confident and, he’d heard, really good at her job. Her bottom lip quivered slightly. Well, maybe not so confident after all.
“Who is this, Mommy?”
The little girl had walked over and now stood next to her mother.
“This is an old friend of mine,” Miranda said. “Carter Cahill. Carter, this is my daughter, Emily.”
“Hi, Emily,” Carter said to the child, whose glitter-covered sneakers twinkled in the sunlight. She looked to be about nine or ten, perfect timing for her to be Donny Larson’s.
“Did you come to see cousin Lawton?” Emily asked. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s out of jail now.”
“I know that, and I don’t think he did anything wrong. I’m just here to ask a few questions.”
Lawton came around the bench and stood next to Miranda. In jeans and a T-shirt, he showed the effects of incarceration. Pale skin, slightly sunken eyes, a general demeanor of insecurity. His hair, the same brown as his brother’s, had been cut recently. Carter heard the prison system did that for soon-to-be ex-cons.
“What kind of questions?” Lawton asked.
Carter explained about the robbery and the fact that Dale’s Jeep had been in the vicinity.
“Then you should talk to Dale,” Miranda said defensively.
“I did, but I’ve got to cover all the bases.”
Miranda straightened her back. “You can’t think that Lawton, released just two weeks ago, would commit a crime? He learned his lesson, Carter. And he doesn’t even have a driver’s license, so why would he be driving Dale’s vehicle?”
“I hope that’s true,” Carter said. “But Carl Harker is missing some inventory and a bit of cash. Somebody took those things.” He turned to look at Lawton. “Just to satisfy my curiosity, where were you at one o’clock this morning?”
“In bed, sleeping.” Lawton frowned. “Unfortunately I don’t have a witness, so you’ll have to take my word for it.” He glanced at his cousin as if expecting her to vouch for him.
“I see things haven’t changed a bit around here,” Miranda said. “A crime is committed and the cops immediately run out here to question the Jefferson boys.”
“I told you,” Carter said. “Dale’s Jeep...”
“I heard you. Dale’s Jeep. Not Lawton’s. Law doesn’t even own a vehicle.”
“Mommy, why are you mad?”
Miranda took a deep breath, looked down at her daughter. “I’m not mad, honey. You know we came here to help cousin Lawton.” She switched a stern gaze to Carter. “And it looks like he needs our help already on our first day in town.”
“I haven’t accused anyone, Miranda,” Carter said.
“It’s just a matter of time, like always,” she responded.
Carter flinched. She wasn’t being fair.
“Lawton paid his debt to this town,” she said. “Now he’s trying to make a clean start, and I’m here to see that he gets all the support he needs.” She reached in her purse and drew out a business card. “I’m not here just as his cousin.” Handing the card to Carter, she said, “I’m an official representative of the North Carolina social services department. We help ex-convicts start over, providing them with housing if necessary, assisting in finding a job, offering moral support.”
“That’s fine,” Carter said. “I hope Lawton is completely rehabilitated.” Turning to Lawton, Carter added, “I wish you the best, Lawton.” He stuck out his hand. After a moment Lawton shook it and mumbled a halfhearted thank-you.
“How long are you staying?” Carter asked Miranda.
“As long as I need to before getting Emily back to Durham in time for school in the fall. I’m on paid leave.”
“I’m sure Lawton appreciates your help.” There being nothing left to say and certainly no evidence upon which to accuse either Jefferson man, Carter turned to leave.
He was almost to his patrol car when Miranda caught up to him. “Carter, wait.”
He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest. When he turned back to Miranda, she looked more like the girl he’d known. Young and hopeful, and ready to stand up for anyone who needed it. He steeled himself to accept more criticism from her. “You don’t have to caution me about Lawton, Miranda. I realize I was the one who arrested him eight years ago, but that doesn’t mean I’m out to get him now.”
She nodded. “I know that. I’m sorry if I seemed defensive back there, but Lawton’s having a hard time.”
Carter sighed with relief. At least Miranda wasn’t going to continue her attack on his motives for coming out here.
“The people in this town don’t want him here, and they’ve made that perfectly clear,” she added. “But he has no place else to go. This is his home...” She paused and stared forlornly at the run-down cabin. “...such as it is.”
“He’ll be fine,” Carter said. “As long as he stays out of trouble. But it might be a good idea if he kept a low profile for a while. People in this town don’t easily forget.”
“I know that’s true,” she said, giving him a look that was suddenly sad and somehow personal at the same time. “You’ve got to understand, Carter, I can’t forget what Law and I were to each other growing up. Sometimes I felt he was the only friend I had...until high school anyway. And I know he felt the same about me. He’s my cousin, but back then he was more like a brother to me.” The sadness left her eyes, replaced by the same determination he’d seen in the backyard. “I’m going to do all I can for him. I owe him, Carter.”
“That’s fine, Miranda,” Carter said. “You help him all you can, but take one word of advice. Keep your distance from Dale.”
“I’m not afraid of Dale,” she said. “He’s family. I know he’s crossed the line a few times, but he’s also had some bad luck.”
Carter didn’t want to argue, although he didn’t blame Dale’s choices on bad luck. Dale’s life now was a result of bad decisions, greed and resentment. He touched the brim of his hat. “Whatever you say. I suppose we might run into each other while you’re here. Small town, you know.”
“Yeah, we probably will.” She looked down at the gravel under her shoes, then raised her gaze to meet his and said, “I heard about your wife, the miscarriages she had, Carter. I’m so sorry. I wanted to reach out to you, but, you understand...”
“Sure. She left me five years ago. I like to think of it as history.” He attempted a smile but knew he failed at the effort. “I’ve got to go, Miranda. There’s somebody around here who has a shed full of items that should go back to the hardware store outside of town, and I’ve got to find him.” He got into the car, but before rolling up the window, he said, “Nice seeing you again.” He left the Jefferson property without even glancing in his rearview mirror. Seeing Miranda again had been like a knife slicing into his gut. He’d do well to think about the day ahead of him, not the years in his past.
CHAPTER TWO (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6)
DRIVING THE NARROW roads of Liggett Mountain was difficult anytime but seemed especially more so when Miranda left her cousin’s place. Her hands, tight on the steering wheel, still trembled. Her head felt dizzy, her senses alert to any unusual stimuli. Was it the elevation? Five thousand feet into the clouds could alter anyone’s well-being, but Miranda was a mountain girl, so she knew the height wasn’t to blame for how she was feeling.
Seeing Carter had unnerved her. The road twisted and curved, and Miranda followed it, mindful of the rocky shoulder that didn’t do much to prevent an unwary motorist from going off the road and plunging straight down. Still, sharp in her mind was the image of Carter’s face, now even stronger and more self-assured than when he’d played fullback on the high school football team. Then his boyish face and mussed brown hair had turned lots of heads. His shoulders were still as broad, his back still straight. He’d been a hero back then to the folks who followed high school football. As a police officer, he probably was now, too.
“Does Daddy know that Carter man?”
Miranda pulled her thoughts into the present moment and turned toward her daughter. “What? Yes, Daddy knew Carter. We were all friends in high school.”
“Daddy thinks he’s dead.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes at Emily. “No, honey, he couldn’t think that.” But she knew her daughter well enough to understand that when she said something, even something that didn’t seem to make sense, the idea came from a place deep in her overactive and clever brain. “Why would you say that, Em?”
Emily slid her finger across the screen of her smartphone, looking at pictures she’d taken at Lawton’s cabin. “We were at Grandma June’s one time and Daddy said that you guys would still be married if it hadn’t been for the ghost of Carter Cahill.” She looked over at Miranda. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but I guess Daddy does. Anyway, I’ll tell him that Carter isn’t dead.”
Miranda’s first inclination was to be angry with Donny for speaking so carelessly, but then she remembered Emily’s recent habit of listening at keyholes. “Did Daddy say that when you were in the room with him and Grandma?”
“No, I just heard it, that’s all.” She returned to staring at the pictures, enlarging each one on the screen. “He’ll be happy that Carter isn’t dead, won’t he?”
“What you heard about the ghost is an expression that people use sometimes to talk about another person. Daddy didn’t think Carter was dead. He was just making a point.”
“What point? Does he think Carter is scary? I didn’t think he was very friendly, but he’s not scary.”
“No, Daddy didn’t think that either.” Miranda sighed. “I told you we were all good friends at one time. It’s complicated, honey.”
“I get it. You’re not going to tell me.”
“Not right now. All you need to know is that Daddy and Carter used to be on the football team together, but they had a falling-out. You know what that means?”
Emily nodded. “Like LeeAnn and me do sometimes.”
“Exactly.”
“Was it over you?”
Oh, boy. “It was over several different things,” Miranda evaded. “Men argue just like everyone else, like you and I do sometimes. But deep down I think they could be friends again.”
“They should have a sit-down like you and I do when we argue. Then it would all be over.”
Nearing the bottom of the mountain, Miranda changed the subject. “Did you get any good pictures?”
“Yes. One I want to print out and put in a frame. There’s a bunny in it. I wish you had brought our printer.”
Thank goodness they were back to minor complaints and a world of bunnies. “We can go to Boone and stop at the office supply store. They can print the photo for you.”
Satisfied for the moment, Emily put her head back and watched the town out her window. Miranda wondered what she thought of the quaint beauty of the mostly century-old buildings, the green area where concerts were held in the summer, the vibrant green holly that dripped from nearly every hanging pot on the sidewalk lights.
Though she’d been glad to get away from Liggett Mountain, Miranda missed the town, the security of it, the sameness, the way a teenage girl could walk among the large oaks and maple trees and imagine a better life for herself. And while she walked, she pictured herself in love for the rest of her life with the hero of the football team.
But so much had happened. Miranda’s father, who, like many men in the area, worked at the Cahill paper mill, had died as a result of it. Carter’s father, Raymond Cahill, had influenced everyone’s lives. Miranda had used a sudden influx of guilt money from Raymond’s payout to enroll in a university. Now she’d been gone fourteen years and the town belonged to those who’d stayed behind, like Carter. This was his town. He protected it and guarded it, but even amid the soothing comfort of home, tragedy had found him, not once but three times with a series of miscarriages, and he’d suffered. In their own ways, they all had.
* * *
BETSY GREETED CARTER when he walked into police headquarters. “Did you find the missing stuff from the hardware store?” she asked. “And did Dale Jefferson behave himself?”
“No, I didn’t find it, and considering it’s Dale we’re talking about, I’d say he was mostly civil.”
“Carl Harker has called three times this morning to see how you’re coming with the case.”
Carter strode by the counter where Betsy acted as receptionist and dispatcher for the department, picked up his messages and said, “Tell Carl not to call again. We’ll call him when we know anything.”
She snickered. “Like he’ll pay attention to that... Did you see Lawton?”
“He was there. He claimed he didn’t know anything about the break-in, and I believe him.” Carter debated telling Betsy about the other person who was at the Jefferson cabin. Mentioning Miranda might cause a stir in town, but he had to tell someone, and Betsy had known Miranda when she lived here. “You’ll never guess who was at the Jefferson place when I got there,” he said, thinking he sounded casual enough.
Betsy shuffled some papers that probably didn’t need shuffling. “Miranda Jefferson, now Larson, is my guess,” she said.
So much for remaining casual. “How did you know that? Miranda just got to town this morning.”
“I ran into Lucy Dillingham at the grocery store. As you know, she runs the new B&B. She told me that this nice young lady and her daughter had checked in and then took off to go somewhere. When she said the lady’s name was Miranda, I assumed her destination was Liggett Mountain.”
Carter tucked his messages into his shirt pocket. “Well, you’re right. It was Miranda. She works for the department of social services, and I suppose now she’s helping to acclimate our town’s latest ex-con.”
“You can’t say Lawton doesn’t need the help,” Betsy said. “It’s not like anybody welcomed him back with open arms.” She shook her head. “I always say we have the nicest people in Holly River, and it’s basically true, but you throw one poor soul into the mix that folks don’t want here, and their claim to kindness seems to fly out the window.”
“Lawton went to prison because he deserved to,” Carter said, sounding a bit too defensive. “I caught him destroying property at the mayor’s office. Good grief, Betsy, he burned down the wooden sculpture of the river elk that had been in front of city hall for fifty years. And that doesn’t even take into account the illegal rifle and twenty pounds of methamphetamine in his trunk—drugs he manufactured in his own shed.”
“I know all that,” Betsy said. “But I still have a soft spot in my heart for that boy.” Betsy had known many of the young folks in town back then, and Carter suspected she had a soft spot for most of them. “I don’t think he would have turned out so bad if he hadn’t been under Dale’s influence. When their momma and daddy up and left them, Lawton was just a lost soul. He had no one to follow besides Dale.”
“A lost soul who was going to sell meth to our high school kids.” Carter sighed. “And who knows what he’d planned to do with that weapon. I agree with you about one thing, Betsy. Dale was always the instigator. You know I’ve investigated him several times, but he’s always managed to weasel out of every jam...weasel being the operative word.”
Betsy smiled, tapped a pencil on her desk blotter. “I see you managed to change the subject, Chief.”
“What subject? We were talking about the Jeffersons.”
“True enough, but we started out talking about Miranda Jefferson and we got sidetracked.”
“Miranda Larson, remember?” Carter said, disliking the bitterness in his voice.
“How was it seeing her again?”
There weren’t many relationships in Holly River that Betsy Moynahan didn’t know about. Before she became dispatcher for the police department, she worked as a secretary in the high school’s administrative office. She knew when anyone was absent and why, when anyone skipped school and what kids were on a path to matrimony. She always said she believed Carter Cahill and Miranda Jefferson were on a fast track to a wedding march.
“It was fine,” Carter said. “No problem.” He paused, knowing he couldn’t lie to Betsy. “It was strange, actually. She’s changed. More sophisticated, sure of herself. I guess life with Donny is working out for her.”
Betsy peered up at him over her glasses. “Don’t you keep up with the goings-on in people’s lives, Carter?”
“Not if I don’t have to.”
“Miranda and Donny are divorced.”
“They are?” Carter grabbed hold of the edge of the counter to steady himself against what seemed like a tilting office floor.
“About three years now. I thought I told you.”
“Well, you didn’t.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered anyway. You’ve said often enough that you don’t like gossip in the office, and you especially don’t want to hear about a certain high school sweetheart.”
“How come you know this and my mother doesn’t?” Carter asked.
“Oh, Cora knows. I suppose she kept it to herself because she didn’t want to bring up old hurts. But now that Miranda’s back...”
“She’s not back,” Carter said more forcefully than he’d intended. “She’s here to help Lawton, and then I figure she’ll go home to Durham. There’s no reason to get all riled up.”
“I’m not riled up. I was just doing some simple math. You’re single. Miranda’s single. Why, anyone can put one and one together.”
“Don’t you have some work to do?” He nodded at the papers on her counter. “Shouldn’t those be filed or something?” He started to walk away but stopped and turned back to her. “And where’s Sam McCall?”
“He’s out on patrol,” Betsy said with a grin. “I’ll get him for you if you want.”
“I’ll get him myself.” Carter went into his office and called Sam’s cell phone number. He just might need a beer tonight with his newest friend—the rookie cop who didn’t know anything about his history with Miranda Jefferson.
* * *
CARTER HAD WORKED long and hard to forget Miranda, to never again think of her ready natural smile—a smile that warmed a room in the dead of winter. He steeled himself over the years to never think of her glossy brown hair and the ponytail that trailed down her back. And he tried most of all to forget the way he felt when she touched him, the way she made his senses tingle, his heartbeat race. Sure, he’d been just a kid, but what they’d had seemed so real. Until the day everything changed. Carter lay his head back against his office chair and closed his eyes. There was no fighting it today. He was going to remember all of it.
Fourteen years earlier...
“CARTER, I NEED TO talk to you.”
Miranda hadn’t even come to the front door of his house. She’d stood outside in the yard until someone noticed her and told Carter she was there. He’d come out right away, reminded her that they were going to a movie later, but sure, if she wanted to talk now, that was okay with him.
They’d sat on a bench in his mother’s yellow daisy garden. He’d taken her hand as he’d done since their second date, two years before. “You didn’t need to come all the way out here,” he said. “You could have called.”
“No. This can’t be said over the phone.”
That was the first inkling he’d had that something was wrong, that his life might be about to change forever. The summer sun was bright and warm, and their future had seemed so perfect that day. Carter was going off to college on a full football scholarship. Miranda was getting a job and staying home, waiting for him to return for vacations. He’d promised her that if she wanted to go to college when he graduated and they were married, they’d find a way. She wasn’t overjoyed with the decision but had agreed to wait.
“I’ve made a decision,” she said.
“Okay, but why so serious?”
“I’m using part of the money from the paper mill to enroll in NC State. I requested a fast admission report, and I got it. I’m accepted for the fall term.”
That damn money. From the moment his father had issued the check to the Jefferson family, it had felt like a barrier between him and Miranda. Not that Miranda’s mother didn’t deserve it. Warren Jefferson had died six months ago from a lung disease associated with his work around the chloride tanks at the paper mill Carter’s father owned. Warren had known the risks, signed a release of liability and taken the position because it paid more. Other men had done the same thing with no ill effects. But Warren had gotten sick, could no longer work, and the family had lived on disability for years. Raymond Cahill’s “blood money,” as Miranda called it, had avoided a long and costly lawsuit—and probably helped Raymond sleep at night.
Carter tried to remain calm as Miranda gathered her thoughts for what she was about to say. This didn’t have to be bad news. He’d known Miranda wanted to go to college. Why shouldn’t she use some of the money to accomplish her goal? They could still make it work.
“My mother is moving to Hickory to be near her sister,” Miranda said. “We’ve found her a condominium there where she’ll be comfortable.”
“You’re moving?” Carter had said. It was only a couple of hours away, but the barrier kept growing.
“Mama wants to leave Holly River,” Miranda said. “And the truth is, I do, too. It was okay when Daddy was still alive, but now... Both Mama and I need a fresh start away from the memories.” Her voice shook. “There has been so much grieving, and Mama doesn’t seem to be snapping out of it. She sits in a chair all day long just looking out a window. I think in some part of her mind she believes Daddy is coming home.
“In her lucid moments, she’s bitter, Carter. She blames your father even though Daddy signed that release form. Legal papers don’t take away my mama’s sadness. She hates the Cahills. I know it doesn’t make sense...”
Carter released her hand. He’d stared for long moments at the tree line at the perimeter of his mother’s garden where the apple orchard started. “I guess I understand that,” he’d finally said. “But Miranda, you know I’m not my father.” How many times had he said that over the years? He was so sick of apologizing for Raymond. “I suffered with you when your father died.”
“I know that, but it’s not just Mama’s feelings about your family. Your father doesn’t approve of me, of us. You know it’s true. I’m a Jefferson from Liggett Mountain. You’re a Cahill. Your ancestors built this town.”
Carter couldn’t deny the differences between them, but to him, the differences didn’t matter. “Do you think I give a darn about my father’s narrow-minded prejudice?”
“I know you don’t, but the animosity is there, thick as mountain fog. It’s only going to get worse. What kind of a future could you and I build together if your daddy was constantly sabotaging us?”
“I wouldn’t let him do that,” Carter had said.
“I know you would try, but Carter, your father is a strong and determined man.” She paused, and he tried to think of something to counter what he’d known to be true. After a moment she said, “And Carter, this is a chance for me. I didn’t want to take money from your father from the beginning, but that check is giving my mama and me a new start. I need to get away from Holly River, the memories of my daddy’s illness. It’s so connected with your family, with...you. I can’t see any better use for it than as an investment in my future.”
“Funny,” he’d snapped at her. “I thought I was your future.” She hadn’t said anything to that.
“So, what are you saying, Miranda? You want us to break up?”
“I think we need some time away from each other to let the feelings heal. I love you, but every time I look at you, I remember the way my family was torn apart. Maybe sometime if we want to try to make a go of it again...”
“No.” He’d been hurting, and the hurt was quickly turning to anger. “I’m not going away to college hanging on to the memory of a girl who might want to see me again. This is it, Miranda. It’s either over or it isn’t, from this moment.” He’d taken a chance that day by calling her bluff, but he wasn’t going to give her an escape.
She’d stood, moved away from the bench. “I’m sorry, Carter, but we’re not kids anymore. We have to face the reality of who we are, the responsibilities we have. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve meant to me, but...”
“I get it, Miranda. It’s fine. Just go.”
She’d gotten in her car and driven away.
Carter remembered not eating or sleeping for days, but then he took an accounting of his life and made some changes. Two months after the breakup, he met Lainey Roberts at college. She was sweet and understanding, and he’d fallen hard for her. Maybe he wasn’t emotionally ready for that kind of commitment again, but he committed himself to Lainey anyway because that’s the kind of guy he’d always been—steady, faithful, needing to be needed by someone he could love. They made plans, decided to marry and have children. For a while his future seemed bright.
And then he lost her, too, and Carter had to take another accounting of his life. This time he accepted that he wasn’t going to dive into another relationship again. He wouldn’t risk that kind of hurt a third time. He would dedicate himself to his work and living down the unsavory reputation Raymond Cahill had left in the town of Holly River when he died. It was enough for Carter.
CHAPTER THREE (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6)
BY THE TIME Miranda pulled into the parking lot for the Hummingbird Inn, she had calmed enough to think about the duties that lay ahead of her. She had to unpack two suitcases, prepare a lunch for her and Emily and talk to Mrs. Dillingham about a reasonable rate for renting the guest cottage behind the bed-and-breakfast, rather than just a room.
Miranda had learned a great deal about the inn in just the few minutes she’d taken to register. The bed-and-breakfast had been open only a year. The Dillinghams had purchased an old wooden dormitory once used by a local college and turned it into a cozy and warm space for Holly River tourists. The cottage where Miranda was staying was a separate building that had recently been renovated from the original gardening shed. The colors of the cottage matched the crisp white-and-black exterior of the main building. Emily had fallen in love with the small porch with a swing hanging from the ceiling.
“I want to stay here, Mom,” Emily had said when she first saw the cottage.
Miranda found Mrs. Dillingham in the living room arranging a bouquet of fresh flowers.
“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Dillingham said. “How was your morning?”
“Fine, thanks. I’m going to be staying in Holly River for as much as a few weeks,” she said. “I like your cottage, and I’m wondering what weekly rate we might agree upon.”
“Let’s see.” Mrs. Dillingham smiled down at Emily. “How do you like it here?”
“It’s really nice,” Emily said.
“Okay, then.” Lifting her gaze to Miranda, Mrs. Dillingham said, “How does two hundred per week sound?”
“Like a very generous offer,” Miranda quickly agreed. “Thank you so much. I can start putting our things in there. Afterward, I’ll make a trip to the grocery to stock the kitchenette. I really appreciate this, Mrs. Dillingham.”
“Call me Lucy,” the woman said. “After all, we’ll practically be family living so closely together.”
Miranda reached for her credit card. “Let me go ahead and pay for the first week now, Lucy.”
The innkeeper set down her pruning shears and walked to the registration counter. She concluded the payment by writing the name Larson in the guest book, and thanked Miranda for paying in advance. “By the way, dear, I know you used to live in Holly River. It must be nice to return to such a charming town and visit with old friends.”
Knowing it was quite probable that Lucy Dillingham had never driven into the hills and hollows of Liggett Mountain, Miranda kept her response vague. “I doubt many of my friends from high school still live here. I’ve been gone for fourteen years, and unfortunately I didn’t keep in touch with my girlfriends from back then.”
“What about family?” Lucy asked.
Miranda explained that her mother lived in Hickory and her father was deceased. Lucy reacted with customary expressions of sympathy.
“Then what brings you back here? Business perhaps?”
Durham was certainly different from Holly River, Miranda thought. In Durham no one would think to ask her why she was staying in one location for any length of time. But it appeared that Holly River curiosity had infected Lucy Dillingham as it had everyone else in town for as long as Miranda could remember. “In a way,” she answered. “I do have a family member in the area who needs my help.”
“Oh, my. Anyone I might know?”
“I don’t think so...”
“It’s our cousin, Lawton Jefferson,” Emily said. “Do you know Lawton?”
Lucy’s expression changed from one of mild curiosity to something bordering shock and disgust. “You’re a Jefferson?” she asked.
“I used to be,” Miranda said. “Larson is my married name, though I’m divorced now.”
“Is Lawton related to Dale Jefferson?”
Obviously Dale’s reputation had traveled even to this insulated place of charm and gentility in the middle of Holly River. “Yes, they’re brothers.”
“I see. I’ve never personally met either one of the men. I understand Dale lives on Liggett Mountain.”
“So does cousin Lawton,” Emily said. “He just got out of prison and moved in with cousin Dale.”
Lucy slowly shook her head and mumbled, “Hmm...”
Miranda patted the top of Emily’s head. “That’s enough for now, Em. We’ve interrupted Mrs. Dillingham’s chores enough, and we’ve got our own chores to do.”
They started for the exit, but Lucy stopped them with one last question. “Will you be going to Liggett Mountain to help out or will your cousin be coming here?”
Miranda understood the deeper meaning of the question. Please don’t allow your cousin to come on this property. “I doubt he’ll come here,” she said. “I’ve already been to the mountain today. It’s like going home to me. Liggett Mountain is where I grew up.”
Lucy picked up a feather duster and flicked it over the top of her counter. “Have a nice day,” she said with cold indifference. Miranda figured she was probably regretting the two-hundred-dollar deal she’d made.
When all their chores had been accomplished and the cottage was stocked with food, Miranda felt too lazy to fix dinner. “How would you like to go to the River Café, Em?” she asked her daughter. “If I remember correctly, there’s an ice-cream store right next door.”
“I want to,” Emily said, reaching for her hairbrush. “I’m going to look nice in case we run into someone we know.”
“We only know a handful of people, Em, so I wouldn’t count on it.”
Emily began enumerating Holly River citizens on her fingers. “We know lots of people. Lucy, Lawton and Dale, and that policeman who talked about Daddy. We might see one of them.”
Miranda marveled at her daughter’s enthusiasm. There was one person on that list who brought an old familiar tremble to Miranda’s chest, and she certainly couldn’t admit to the rush of complicated feelings, even to herself.
* * *
THE RIVER CAFÉ was crowded this Friday evening. Tourists occupied the outside seating area, where they could enjoy the live entertainment. Tonight Carter’s younger brother, Jace, was strumming his guitar for Diana Melton, who could carry a sweet tune about as well as anyone in town. Tourists who wanted a quieter environment sat at the interior dining room tables. Holly River locals gathered at pub tables in the bar, where Carter had agreed to meet his friend Sam McCall after work. Carter glanced at his watch. Sam was late, so he ordered a beer and waited.
Sam came striding in a little after seven and settled on the other of the bar-height stools across from Carter. “Been waiting long?”
“Only as long as it takes to down one beer,” Carter said.
“You’re one ahead of me,” Sam said. He raised a finger to get the waitress’s attention and indicated he’d like two more brews brought to the table. Then he leaned across the table and said, “You see that waitress?”
“Yeah,” Carter said. “I ordered my first beer from her. Don’t think I’ve seen her in the café before, though.”
“She’s cute, don’t you think?”
“Sure. She’s cute.”
“Her name’s Allie and she’s new in town. She waited on me Wednesday night.”
Carter studied the waitress as she lingered at the bar for the bartender to fill the order. Pretty brown hair, a cute figure that showed to its full advantage in the River Café T-shirt. “So that’s why you wanted to come to this place,” Carter said.
“Good deduction. That’s why you’re the chief, Chief.”
Allie brought the drinks and set them on the table. “Hey, I remember you,” she said to Sam. “Wednesday night, right?”
Sam grinned in that easy, redheaded way a lot of Irish guys seemed blessed with at birth. Sam was the hottest bachelor in town. He attracted many local girls, but this was the first time Carter could remember his seriously returning the attention.
Sam leaned back, kept the grin in place and said, “Say, that’s a pretty ring you’re wearing.”
Allie held up both hands. “I’m not wearing a ring.”
Sam laughed. “I know you’re not. Works every time. It’s an old cop trick.”
She returned his smile with her own flirty grin. “Somehow you don’t seem like an old cop.”
Allie sauntered off to another table, and Carter just stared at his friend. “Could you be more obvious, Sam?”
“Sure could. Watch and learn, my friend. By the end of the night I’ll have her phone number and a few other vital statistics.”
Despite the troubling day Carter was having, he smiled. “I don’t doubt it.”
“What’s with the glum expression you were wearing when I got to the table, Carter? You seem down even for you. Something bothering you?”
Carter didn’t appreciate the unwarranted critique of his personality. He didn’t think he was a downer. He was just a guy who’d loved and lost not one woman, but two, and was working his way back up the emotional ladder. And despite that ladder appearing to reach into the clouds sometimes, Carter thought he was doing darn well. “Not especially,” he said.
“Then my guess is, this has something to do with an old girlfriend coming to town,” Sam said.
Carter settled back on his stool and shook his head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Who told you about that?”
“Betsy. She was practically bursting with the news. Says she remembers you and this Miranda gal from when you were both in high school.” Sam took a long sip of beer. “Kinda romantic if you ask me—two sweethearts meeting up again. Bet you were prom king and queen.”
Carter wasn’t about to admit that Sam was only half-right. Miranda had been beaten for the crown by a Winchester Ridge debutante. Carter’s dance with the queen had seemed like the longest of his life while Miranda stood on the side and watched.
“Who cares about all that high school stuff?” he said. “It’s all history.”
“Got it. And it’s apparent you want to change the subject.”
Sam opened his menu, though like most of the locals he probably had it memorized by now. “What do you feel like eating, Carter?”
“Fried chicken,” Carter said. “Won’t be as good as Mom’s, but it won’t be bad either.”
“Make that two.” Sam called Allie to the table, shamelessly flirted with her again and ordered. Then his gaze wandered to the door, and Carter’s soon followed—and lingered. Miranda and her daughter had obviously picked the River Café for their supper. What were the odds of that since the tourist guide showed at least ten restaurants in town?
Sam chuckled. “I see you noticed her, too, Carter. Tells me your cold heart is at least still beating.”
“That’s her,” Carter said in a hoarse whisper. “That’s Miranda and her kid.”
“She has a kid?” Sam looked genuinely disappointed. “Is she married?”
“Didn’t Betsy tell you that, as well? She was married, but she’s divorced now.”
“Oh, that’s cool, then. You want them to join us?” Sam started to raise his hand.
“No. That’s the last thing I want. I’m already wishing I was at any other restaurant in town but this one.”
A restaurant employee led Miranda and Emily to a table in the bar. They were almost seated when Emily noticed Carter. “What did I tell you, Mom? There’s the policeman, so we did see someone we know.” She scurried over to Carter’s table. “Hello, what’s your name again?”
Carter told her.
“Hi, Mr. Cahill. Mom told me to call you by your last name. She said it’s respectful.”
“Hello.” Carter fumbled for words. He didn’t know how to talk to little girls, especially Donny Larson’s kid. “Your name’s Emily, right?” Of course he knew, but asking filled in a short block of time.
“Emily Larson,” she said.
Carter introduced her to Sam, who complimented her Minions T-shirt. There was no female too young for Sam to charm.
Carter thought she’d go back to her table, but she stood there with her little hands gripping the side of his table. For a moment, Carter had a flashback of other small hands that might have reached out for him if Fate had dealt him a better future. “Is there something else you wanted, Emily?”
She hunched one shoulder. “No.”
Miranda ambled over to the table. “Come on, Em. We have our own table and you’re bothering Officer Cahill and his friend.”
True enough. Carter was bothered plenty by this whole situation, not the least of which was trying to make conversation with this miniature mirror image of Donny Larson. It didn’t help that seeing Miranda with her child only brought back memories of his own losses.
And then there was the way Miranda looked. A bit tired perhaps, but that didn’t detract from her put-together style. She’d changed from her business attire when they’d met at the Jefferson cabin. Her hair was casual, pulled back in a short ponytail reminding him of...well, reminding him of lots of things. She had on a pair of jeans that fit just right and a pink blouse tucked in to flatter her figure. Her thick bangs fell just short of her eyes, drawing attention to their unforgettable blue color.
“Imagine this,” Miranda said. “Running into you twice in one day, and me only arriving in town this morning.” Her voice quavered slightly as if the coincidence was not one she relished.
Carter introduced her to Sam, who thankfully kept his limited knowledge of their past to himself. “How did things go after I left Liggett Mountain?” Carter asked.
“Okay, I guess,” she said. “Lawton needs so much help. Because of your profession, you probably know that a lot of men released from prison are incarcerated again within three years.”
Sure he knew that. It was his business to know.
“Readjusting to life is difficult for many of the released,” she added.
Yeah, and Lawton would no doubt experience the most trouble with trying to settle back into the town he’d violated so badly. “You’ll have to excuse me for saying this,” Carter said. “But maybe Lawton would have been better off to move to another location instead of back in with his brother. That combination spelled trouble before, and it could again.”
Miranda started to respond, but Sam cut in. “I thought you said Lawton before. You’re talking about Lawton Jefferson?”
Miranda stood a little straighter, as if she was used to hearing negative reactions to the mention of her cousin’s name. “He’s my cousin,” she said. “I’ve come to town to help him get settled.”
Sam looked at Carter. “Lawton’s not in trouble already, is he?”
“No, he’s not.”
“Then why did you go visit the Jefferson boys today?”
“You know why.” Carter was becoming irritated and aware that anything he said might set Miranda off again. “Dale’s vehicle was seen in the alley behind the hardware store. I went up to Liggett to get some answers from him. My visit had nothing to do with Lawton.”
“Lawton didn’t do anything wrong,” Emily said in defense of her cousin.
Miranda put a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Carter knows that, honey.” Addressing Sam, she said, “It’s my opinion that Lawton’s biggest obstacle to finding success after release might be the way the people in this town have selective memories. They remember why Lawton was arrested, but conveniently forget that he served his time.”
Sam gave Carter a look that said he was aware that this was a prickly situation.
Feeling the need to smooth things over, Carter said, “If there’s anything my guys or I can do to help...”
Miranda’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Carter. I know we got off on the wrong foot this morning, but I truly believe you mean that.”
Did he? Was he willing to help Lawton adapt to life in Holly River? Not really. He’d more likely help him move to the next town over in the county.
Allie delivered two chicken dinners to the table, and Miranda started to lead Emily away.
“Nice meeting you,” Sam called. When they were out of hearing range, he said, “She might have a hard time convincing folks in this town that Lawton is completely rehabilitated. I’ve only been here a couple of years, and even I know that Dale Jefferson’s name comes up every time we have a crime. And it’s common knowledge that Lawton was his sidekick for a number of years.”
Carter nodded. “I know, but the Miranda I remember is a determined female, so unless she’s changed, she’ll do everything she can to make Lawton’s transition an easy one.”
Sam had already dug into his chicken dinner. Watching Miranda across the room, Carter didn’t know how the greasy Southern meal would settle in his knotted stomach.
* * *
CARTER TOOK TWO days off every week, Wednesday and Sunday, a luxury not afforded to many small-town police chiefs. He took Sunday because things were usually quiet in town with tourists leaving the High Country mountains at the end of their weekends. He took Wednesday because the tourists hadn’t yet started to invade the mountains for cooling weekend trips. Normally Carter went out to Snowy Mountain Farm on Wednesdays to see if he could help out.
Carter’s maternal grandfather had started Snowy Mountain five decades earlier, and it was still a small but thriving business. The Cahill family grew five thousand Fraser fir trees every year, selling most of the crop to North Carolina residents who came back year after year to pick out their holiday trees. Christmas-tree choosing and cutting had become longtime traditions to the folks who kept coming back, and Carter’s mother, Cora, who’d inherited the farm from her father, always welcomed families with hot cocoa, a visit with Santa himself and a full gift shop of ornaments and trinkets.
In truth, it took a lot of work and effort to have five thousand trees ready every November. Trees had to be shaped and sheared several times during the year, and a new crop had to be planted from seeds, fertilized and watched over until the trees were full grown in seven years’ time. When a family picked out a tree, few realized that the Cahill family had been nurturing the heavenly scented beauty for almost a decade.
Holding the gasoline-powered shears, Carter turned to his brother, Jace, who had shown up today to help. Carter took sound-deafening headphones from over his ears. “How many part-time guys do we have working today, Jace?” Carter asked.
“Five. I could use a couple more hands, but if we keep on schedule, we should have a hundred trees pruned by the end of the day.”
“That will be a good start to the summer cuts.” He turned his attention to a lone figure winding her way up the hillside between stands of trees. “Here comes Mama. Hope she’s got coffee in that thermos.”
“Me, too,” Jace said.
When Cora Cahill reached her boys, she sat on a block of wood the men used to trim the highest tree levels and took a deep breath. “That climb up the hill gets harder every time.” Smiling, she added, “But I’ve brought coffee, so I’m sure you boys will think that my nearly killing myself was worth it.”
“Why don’t you use the golf cart?” Carter asked, taking the cup she offered.
“And admit I can’t make it up here?” Cora said. “Never. Put down the shears for a minute, fellas, so I can catch up with you.”
“We’re coming to dinner tonight, Mama. You can catch up then.”
“Yeah, but some topics can’t wait.”
Using this opening to mention a subject that had been on his mind, Carter said, “Yeah, like why you aren’t going with Aunt Dolly to Hawaii.”
Cora frowned. “Did she tell you that? Dolly’s always had loose lips.”
“She told me you canceled on her. But she said you didn’t tell her why. What’s going on?”
“I did so tell her. I said it just wasn’t a good time for a vacation, that’s all. A woman’s allowed to change her mind.”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “You were looking forward to this vacation, so why don’t you reschedule? Pick a winter month when you’ll really enjoy the sunshine.”
“I have my reasons for making this decision,” Cora said. “So enough about this trip. I want to ask you some questions, Carter.”
Carter and Jace sipped their coffees, knowing the futility of stopping Cora once she wanted to be heard.
“Okay, since neither of you will ask, I’ll tell you.” Staring at Carter, she said, “Miranda Jefferson is back in town, but I’ll bet you already knew that.”
Carter sighed. Here we go. “I knew. I ran into her at Dale Jefferson’s place. She’s doing some social work for Lawton, trying to make his leaving prison easier.”
“How did that go?” Cora asked.
Trying to steer the conversation away from his mother’s obvious interest, Carter said, “How did Lawton’s integration go? Don’t know, Mama. He just got back to town.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Cora snapped. “How did it go between you and Miranda?”
“Fine. Why wouldn’t it? Miranda and I called it quits years ago. A lot has happened since then.”
“Most definitely has,” Cora said. “But now you’re both single, and you never know...”
“Mama, stop it. I’m not interested in Miranda. You know that, and I’d appreciate it if the gossip in this town turned to other subjects. Miranda and I might end up friends after all this time, but I even have my doubts about that.”
Cora looked at a spot halfway down the hillside. “I’m not so sure,” she said.
Carter turned his attention to the narrow path his mother had just taken up the hill. Sure enough, another woman was coming up to join them. The blond streaks in her brown hair glinted in the sunlight as she progressed up the incline slowly and carefully. “What the heck is she doing here?” Carter asked. “And why would she attempt this trip in those stupid sandals? She probably hasn’t climbed a mountain in years.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6)
CARTER NEVER HAD a chance to satisfy his curiosity about Miranda’s arrival on Snowy Mountain. His mother had shot up from her wood block seat and was rushing down the path to meet her. “Miranda, oh, honey, it’s so good to see you.”
Carter could hear the squeals from several hundred feet away.
Cora was a profusion of questions and smiles. Apparently she was determined to get Miranda to open up since her son had refused. Well, she likely wouldn’t get any more information than her son had given her. Miranda was here on business to take care of her cousin. That was that.
“How have you been?” Cora asked. “Why haven’t you come home before now? I hear you have a daughter. I want to hear all about her.”
Unfortunately Carter couldn’t hear Miranda’s answers. Her enthusiasm at seeing Cora again seemed genuine but underwhelming next to Cora’s boisterous greeting. Although Miranda and Cora had always gotten along, which was a victory in itself considering Raymond Cahill’s constant attempts to keep Miranda away from his family.
Arm in arm, like two long-lost friends, the two women joined up with the men.
“Hi, Carter,” Miranda said.
“Morning.”
“I stopped at your office, but the dispatcher told me this was your day off. And by the way, I was so happy to see Mrs. Moynahan again. She was always so nice to us in high school.”
“She’s a peach,” Carter said. “Why did you go to the office?”
“I wanted to see you. Mrs. Moynahan said you’d probably be here at the tree farm.”
“Same as most every Wednesday,” he said. “You’re here without your daughter?”
“I hired a girl from the college to watch Emily today. They’re going to the animal rescue center. An injured hawk came in last night, and the vet is going to repair the bird’s wing. That’s right up Em’s alley.”
She looked around at the trees nearest her. “The crop looks good this year.”
She would notice that, and she was right. Back in high school Carter and Miranda had driven the golf cart up this hill many nights, though back then, their purpose had been, among other things, to watch the moon, not the growing firs.
“It’s coming along,” he said.
“We’re trying something new this year,” Cora said. “We’re offering trees in large planters so when the season is over, folks can plant the evergreen in their yards. After nurturing these firs for years, it seemed a shame to just cut and decorate them. Now, if folks choose to, they can have their tree near their homes for years to come.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Miranda said. Turning to Jace, who had thus far remained silent, she added, “You’re looking good, Jace. Have you taken over full-time management of Snowy Mountain?”
Jace’s involvement with the tree farm had been an ongoing issue between him and Cora for years. Cora wanted him at the farm full time, but Jace wasn’t ready to give up his laid-back lifestyle of playing his guitar and delegating rafting trips to his help. Occasionally Jace conducted the trips, but mostly he assigned the younger, more enthusiastic guys.
Jace made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a permanent gig yet. The tree farm would tie him down with responsibilities, and he valued his free-spirited way of living too much. He liked having to answer only to himself and his scruffy mountain dog.
“Not yet.” Jace smoothed a thick strand of nut-brown hair off his forehead and responded to Miranda’s open arms with a quick, indifferent hug. Carter figured that’s all the welcome Miranda was going to get from his loyal brother, who had helped him through their breakup. Jace was one individual who could carry a grudge to the grave. Since their father died a little over a year ago, he was only now coming to terms with the bitter feelings he’d had for Raymond.
Carter had gotten along with their father better than Jace had, but still, he hadn’t shed a tear when the old man died. Jace, though, the third born, the one his father always viewed as weak and incorrigible, he’d practically smiled through the entire graveside service. Their older sister, Ava, was the only one who’d never seemed to raise their father’s dander. But then, she was pretty, smart and successful.
Carter cleared his throat. It was time to get down to business. “So what brings you up here, Miranda?” he asked. “I assume this visit and the difficult trek up the hill is about more than you visiting a few Christmas trees.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
She glanced quickly at his two family members until Carter took the hint. “Can you guys give us a minute?” he said.
“Let’s check on the fellas up the hill,” Cora said to Jace. “I’ll bet they want some coffee, too.”
“Don’t be a stranger, Miranda. Bring that daughter of yours out to the house and we’ll have some girl talk,” Cora said as she and Jace wandered away.
“I’ll do that, Cora. Thanks.”
Once they were out of sight, Carter said, “I can offer you a wood block to sit on. That’s about the fanciest accommodation we have around here. But when you’re ready to leave I’ll have one of the men come up with the golf cart and take you down.” He attempted a smile. “I couldn’t help noticing your shoes aren’t quite appropriate for hill climbing.”
Miranda sank onto the block, slipped her sandals off and rubbed her feet. Carter used to massage her feet after cheerleading practice, but best not to think about that now. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll take you up on that. I’d forgotten how steep the hills are.”
Carter folded his arms across his chest. “You mentioned a proposition you wanted to discuss.”
“Yes, that’s right.” She looked up at him with the clear, beautiful eyes that had once made him do anything she wanted. He reminded himself not to be taken in again. Those days were over.
“It concerns Lawton,” she said. “I’ve decided that he needs a bit more help than I can provide.”
“Have you tried the churches?” Carter asked. “We might even have a support group in town for guys like Lawton.”
“You don’t,” Miranda replied. “I’m willing to look into any solution for Law’s difficulties, but first, I hope you meant it the other night when you said you’d be willing to help.”
Whoa. Had he said that? He recalled the words, but now he wondered at the wisdom of the promise. “What does he need?”
“He needs a mentor, Carter. Someone from Holly River preferably. Someone who is respected in this town, whose opinion matters.”
Carter held his breath.
Miranda lightly touched his arm. “I’m hoping that mentor will be you.”
* * *
CARTER’S FACE PALED to nearly ashen. He took a deep breath. “You’re kidding, right?”
Miranda had expected him to be surprised and probably reluctant, but a stiffening of his spine told her this was not going to be an easy sell. “I’m not kidding at all. Lawton needs a strong male figure in his life, certainly not Dale, but someone with good moral values to help him acclimate.”
“I don’t doubt that it would be helpful, Miranda, but not me. I’m the cop who put him in jail.”
“He doesn’t resent you for that,” Miranda said. “What else could you have done after you searched his car? He knows you were only doing your job. He got caught with an illegal substance, which he manufactured himself, and an unregistered weapon. He knows he deserved to be arrested.”
Miranda was attributing a generous, forgiving trait to Lawton, and she figured Carter would question her opinion. How many ex-cons were willing to forgive the cop who arrested them? She just hoped he would listen and not refuse her request until he’d heard her out.
“Don’t forget his public vandalism,” Carter added.
Miranda frowned. “I haven’t forgotten anything, Carter, but it’s history. For Lawton’s sake, everyone needs to move forward.”
Carter rubbed his jaw. “Moving forward is one thing, but you’ll have to admit, Miranda, this whole idea is at best impractical and at worst inconceivable.”
“Why is it so impractical?”
“I have a job. I’m busy.”
“This won’t take much of your time.” Miranda was so certain that this was the proper course of action that she wasn’t going to let Carter talk himself out of helping.
“That’s only part of the problem,” he said. “You may think Lawton doesn’t resent me, but I guarantee that on some level, and maybe not so deep a level at that, he does. I was responsible for him losing eight years of his life...”
“He was responsible for that,” Miranda pointed out. “And he knows it.”
“Maybe so, but he’s hardly going to want me giving him advice now.”
“I think you’re just the person he does need,” Miranda insisted. “He can look up to you. You both come from Holly River. Your upbringings were different, and your lives are certainly different now, but you’re a figure of authority around here, someone Lawton would listen to.”
Carter held up both hands and slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miranda. This idea would never work. Wasn’t it just a few days ago that you pointed out to me that I went immediately to Liggett Mountain when a crime had been committed? I hadn’t gone up there to catch Lawton at something, but Dale is always a strong suspect, and that’s not going to change.”
“This isn’t about Dale.” Carter had brought up an argument that Miranda had considered before coming to Snowy Mountain. “And that’s my point. You drove up Liggett to investigate Dale because you know he’s a troublemaker, always has been. This fact alone makes it all the more important that Law has positive influences. How healthy can it be for Lawton to have his older brother as a role model now? And I’m afraid that’s what will happen if he doesn’t have anyone else to guide him. I have faith in Lawton, but old habits are hard to break.”
Carter scraped his index finger across his chin. Miranda couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t shaved this morning. Just like she couldn’t help noticing that he had on work boots, worn dungarees and a green Snowy Mountain T-shirt that molded to his upper body. He’d looked official in his police uniform on Monday. Today he looked more like the boy she’d ridden in the golf cart with. She’d immediately thought of those nights when he mentioned the cart a few minutes ago.
“Lawton and I were never that close,” Carter said. “I know you and he had a special bond, but that didn’t extend to your...” He hesitated as if searching for a word. “...friends,” he finally finished. “Lawton didn’t even finish high school, so I didn’t know much about his life after the tenth grade.”
“You know what I told you,” she said. “You know I loved him. He protected me and supported me, and listened to me for hours on end. Lawton was the main reason I was able to get by after my daddy died. Momma was always so depressed. I couldn’t talk to her. Lawton...and you...were the ones I depended on.”
He didn’t look convinced, but at least he gave her idea a few moments of quiet thought. Finally he said, “It won’t work, Miranda. There’s too much history between the cops in Holly River and the Jefferson boys.” He paused as an intuitive light suddenly appeared in his eyes. “You can’t think that if I acted as a mentor to Lawton, or maybe because of the past relationship you and I shared, that I’d ignore the Jeffersons when a crime was committed.”
His veiled accusation hurt. Did he really think she was suggesting this arrangement to keep Lawton and her worthless other cousin out of trouble? She’d thought he knew her better than that.
Her expression must have clued him into her thoughts. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you don’t have an ulterior motive other than Lawton’s well-being,” he said.
She tried another line of reasoning, hoping to engage Carter’s sense of fairness and community. “Did you know that when Dale picked Lawton up at prison, Lawton had the clothes on his back and twenty-five dollars in cash? That was it, and the money was spent immediately on food because there was hardly a bite of anything in the cabin.”
“That’s not much of a start...”
“And you said yourself...he has no family but Dale. Their parents moved away and never contact their boys. And even if they did, it would be an extremely dysfunctional relationship. And Lawton has a limited education, and no job opportunities, not without someone vouching for him anyway.”
“So I would be putting my reputation on the line to help Lawton get a job?” Carter said. “It’s asking a lot, Miranda, and I don’t know if I’m willing to do that.”
For the first time Miranda had doubts about her plan. She’d heard stories about Carter’s involvement with the community, the blind eye he often cast to minor traffic violations, the raccoons he’d chased from garbage cans. But she’d never expected Carter to worry about the consequences of his job over someone’s well-being. Still, she knew in her heart that Carter would be the perfect person to help Lawton. “I guess supporting Law might have an effect on your position here,” she admitted. “But at least talk to him. That’s not too much to ask is it? You said you’d help.”
He expelled a long breath. Maybe she was wearing him down. “Give this a try, Carter. I’m sure you’ll see that Lawton has changed. You could make the difference in him becoming successful on the outside or becoming a statistic who ends up back in prison.
“Just think for a minute about the life skills that you and I take for granted. Lawton doesn’t even know what a smartphone is. He doesn’t know how to work a computer. He’s never heard of Uber and apps. He has no idea how to act at a job interview. Heck, Carter, he doesn’t even have a photo ID anymore.”
“You could introduce him to all these things,” Carter said.
“I’ll do what I can, but he needs a strong male influence, someone who has a strict code of ethics. I’m just the little cousin he used to push over Holly River on a tire. You could give him hope for making something of himself.” She stopped, took a deep breath. “I know you, Carter. You may think I’ve forgotten that at one time I knew almost everything about you...”
His eyes clouded. She hoped she hadn’t gone too far.
“I don’t think much has fundamentally changed,” she said. “You were a good, honest, hardworking boy, and you’re the same now. I’d stake my life on it.”
He stared at her for a long moment. In those deep green eyes that once were a window to every feeling he’d had, she couldn’t read his answer today.
“Who else have you asked?” he said. “Maybe a minister in town, someone who’s more familiar with this type of volunteer work?”
She managed a slight smile. “Only you, Carter. I want you. And Lawton needs you.”
His eyes widened, perhaps at the frankness of her statement, perhaps at the wording she’d used. “Give me a couple of days to think about it,” he said. “Where are you staying?”
She told him.
“I’ll stop by the Hummingbird Inn on Friday and give you my decision.”
“You have my number on my business card, if you kept it,” she said.
“I’ve got it somewhere. And Miranda, my decision will only be to talk to Lawton. I won’t be agreeing to anything else at this time.”
“That’s fine. Thank you, Carter. You can’t know how much this means...”
He took his cell phone out of his pocket. “Don’t let’s get ahead of ourselves,” he said, punching in a number. “Hey, Richie, would you bring the golf cart up here?”
Miranda was relieved to be getting a ride back down. She was suddenly tired and drained, and a large blister was forming on her big toe. But still, it had been a good day so far.
When the golf cart arrived, Carter surprised her by handing Richie the shearing tool and getting behind the wheel of the cart. “Take over, Rich. I’ll be right back.” To Miranda he said, “Hop in.”
She did. They started down the pathway. “I suppose I could have gone down on my own,” she said.
“Yeah, and I suppose you could have gone dancing with that blister on your foot.”
She smiled, deciding that smiling with Carter felt so natural, so good. They rode silently for a while until Miranda said, “I have to admit, Carter, your choice of profession isn’t what I would have imagined for you. I don’t recall you ever mentioning you wanted to be in law enforcement.”
“I didn’t, especially, but then I sat in front of that college catalog, and ‘criminal justice’ just seemed to fly off the page at me. And here I am, years later, right back where I started.”
“Well, the fact that you settled in Holly River doesn’t surprise me,” Miranda said. “You always loved this place.”
“And you always wanted to get out.”
She twisted her hands in her lap. “Not always.”
Another silence followed until Miranda asked if he enjoyed police work.
“I suppose I do. I’ve always felt it was a way to give back to a community that gave so much to me.”
“Do you have much serious crime here?”
“No. Haven’t had a murder, well, not that I know about. Few burglaries. We do get some auto thefts, and that’s a problem when the car belongs to a wealthy tourist from Atlanta. Those people always seem to think that locking a car in quiet Holly River is a precaution they don’t need to take.” He glanced at her as he drove. “I’d say our biggest criminals are bears and raccoons.”
“Do you wear a gun?” she asked, remembering that she hadn’t bothered to look when he was in uniform on Liggett Mountain.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve had to draw it a few times. Once I even fired a round in the air when a bunch of tourists from Florida forgot they’d come here to ski, not just drink. But if you’re wondering if I ever aimed at a real person, no, I haven’t. Hope I don’t have to either. Our latest crime involves sprinklers and garden hoses, and I’ll be content to track those down and leave the major crime to the big cities.”
“I’ll bet you get some strange calls from people wanting you to do things that aren’t in line with crime busting.”
“I’ve pulled my share of snakes out of sheds and investigated a number of UFO sightings. It’s all part of the job, I guess.”
“But you enjoy it?”
“Yeah. As I said, it gives me a chance to be a valued member of the community. That’s important to me because my ancestors weren’t always such good citizens.” He cut a sharp glance her way. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that. My dad, his father and his father before him were only interested in making money. It didn’t matter who got hurt.”
Like my father did, Miranda thought, remembering the stench of the paper mill Raymond Cahill owned. The factory was just far enough away that the smell never reached Holly River, but on hot summer nights, when the windows were open, folks on Liggett Mountain used to complain. Not that Raymond cared. Until the chemicals used killed her dad and left Miranda and her mother without a father and husband.
She’d never imagined that Carter would bear the burden of what his ancestors did. She’d known he didn’t get along with Raymond, but his mother, Cora, was always so sweet and caring. She mediated many arguments between the men in her family. “You told me once that you aren’t your father. Remember that?”
He nodded.
“Well, it’s true.”
He smiled. “If I have anything to say about it, I never will be a clone of Raymond Cahill. I’m probably the nicest cop in North Carolina, but there’s a lot of past regret to make up for.”
They’d reached the bottom of the hill, and Miranda got out of the cart. “I promise to abide by all laws while I’m here,” she said.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. Some of our statutes are pretty quirky, and you could break a law without even knowing it. But, heck, Miranda, you’re one out-of-towner I’m not worried about.”
She leaned under the top of the cart. “Thanks for the lift. I’ll see you Friday. And Carter, don’t overthink this whole thing with Lawton. You’ll be a great mentor if you decide to do it.”
He drove off, heading back toward the hill path, and Miranda walked to her car. She felt strangely sad when she thought back to Carter’s comment about her being an “out-of-towner.”
CHAPTER FIVE (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6)
THE DRIVE FROM Snowy Mountain to the veterinary rehab center where Miranda had left her daughter was almost a half hour—time enough for Miranda to think about Holly River, the sadness she experienced here and the regrets she had upon leaving. One day in particular she would never forget.
Fourteen years earlier...
“I’M SORRY, MRS. JEFFERSON, but there just isn’t anything else we can do. This day has been coming for quite a while.”
Miranda stared up at their family doctor from the uncomfortable seat in the Bolton County Hospital waiting room. She and her mother had been at the hospital around the clock since Warren Jefferson had been brought in by ambulance three days before. All thoughts of graduation parties and spending time with Carter had been forgotten as Miranda waited for word on her father.
“There must be something you can do,” Miranda said. “You can’t just give up.”
Loreen Jefferson had covered her daughter’s arm with her hand, trying to comfort her. “Let Dr. Jackson talk, honey.”
“The cancer in Warren’s lungs has spread to his colon and his liver. Even if we could control the lung cancer, his other organs would shut down. In a way, it’s a blessing that he was brought in when he was. He’s been able to receive medication that alleviates his pain.”
A blessing! Miranda had wanted to scream. She’d found her father in his favorite recliner, the TV blaring loudly and blood gurgling from his lips and his ruined lungs. It had seemed to take hours for the ambulance to arrive.
“How long does he have?” Loreen asked.
Dr. Jackson’s face reflected the difficulty of what he had to say. “I think you ladies should use this time to say your goodbyes.”
Five years! For five long years, Loreen and Miranda had watched the man they loved struggle with every breath until finally he could no longer speak and his appetite had dwindled to practically nothing. Thank goodness the family had health insurance and no mortgage on the Liggett Mountain cabin. There was no way they could have survived on the little disability Warren received from the state of North Carolina and the small paychecks Miranda earned at the hot dog stand outside of town.
As her father was being wheeled into the ambulance on a stretcher, Miranda had walked beside him, holding his hand. “Be strong, Daddy. Don’t leave us. I’ll make Raymond Cahill pay for what he did to you.”
And what had Raymond done exactly? He’d offered Warren a substantial raise if he would work in the boiler plant of the paper mill, a position that carried some degree of risk due to the asbestos lining used in the pulp boilers. The last man who’d held the job had retired with no ill effects, and to give his family a better life, Warren had decided the benefits outweighed the risks.
Only he hadn’t been as lucky as the man before him. After ten years working next to those boilers, asbestos dust and tiny filings settled in his lungs and finally ended his job at the mill and now his life. And there wasn’t really anything Miranda could do in the way of retaliation. The personnel manager at the plant showed her a letter her father had signed agreeing to the terms of his higher-paying job and acknowledging the risks.
“Is there anything else you’d like to ask me, Loreen, Miranda?” Dr. Jackson said. “If you’re wondering if Warren is comfortable, I can assure you he is. And there should be relief in knowing he won’t be struggling much longer.”
Miranda had stood, placed her hand under her mother’s elbow and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go sit with him, Mama.”
Like a wooden statue, Loreen had managed to slide one foot in front of the other, her practical shoes scraping on the polished linoleum of the hospital floor. They’d gone only a few steps when Miranda saw a man coming toward them. Not just any man. No, this was Raymond Cahill, the man she hated most in the world. Raymond was approaching them with a purposeful stride, and he had an envelope in his hand. What was inside that envelope changed everything.
“Hi, Mom!” Emily bounded into the car, her natural energy seeming to fill the entire space.
“How was your afternoon?” Miranda asked. She reached into her wallet, handed the young woman she’d hired to watch Emily a few five dollar bills, and thanked her.
“Anytime, Mrs. Larson,” the girl said. “Emily is such a bright, curious child.”
“It was so neat,” Emily began as soon as Miranda turned around in the facility parking lot. “You knew about the bird, right? Well, the doctor fixed him. I mean he can’t fly yet, but he will. Right now he’s in a cage and his wing is bandaged, but he’ll be fine soon. I got to watch the whole thing.”
Miranda headed onto the road that led to the Hummingbird Inn. “I would say you had a great afternoon, Em.”
“I did. Now I know for sure that I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up. Veterinarians are so smart. They are the only doctors whose patients can’t tell them what’s wrong. They just have to know.”
“I suppose that’s true. I think you would make a wonderful vet, honey.”
“Are we going back to our cottage now?” Emily asked.
“Yes. I picked up something for supper, and I thought we’d stay in tonight.”
“That’s okay. We can watch a movie.”
Miranda’s cell phone rang, and she checked the car’s digital screen for the name of the caller. Don’t do it, Miranda, she said to herself. Don’t show your impatience in front of Emily. Unfortunately the last person she wanted to talk to was her ex-husband, Donny.
“It’s Daddy,” Emily squealed. “I want to talk to him.”
“Just a minute,” Miranda said. “Let me see what he wants first.” She took Donny off speaker and pressed the connect button on her cell. “Hi, Donny.”
“Hello, ’Randa. I was grateful to get the text you sent me informing me that you and Emily had arrived safely in Holly River. I must say, though, I would have preferred a phone call.”
Never a compliment without an accompanying dig. “We were busy unpacking, Donny. I meant to call you later, but...”
“Never mind. The important thing is that you’re there. Have you seen your cousin?”
“Yes. He’s got more than a few challenges to face. I’m going to do all I can for him.”
“That’s commendable, really.”
Miranda looked for a hint of sarcasm in Donny’s tone. He hadn’t approved of Miranda’s bringing Emily to Holly River. Donny had never thought much of Lawton, and like most people, he’d thought even less of Dale. He’d warned Miranda to keep a sharp eye on their daughter when she was around those “good-for-nothings.”
“I’ll be with her at all times, Donny,” Miranda had told him, though she never once doubted that she could trust Emily with Lawton. After all, there had been a time or two when Miranda entrusted her own safety to her cousin, and he never failed her.
“How did you find the old hometown?” Donny asked.
“The same as when I left it.” In fourteen years, she’d been back only a couple of times. Once was when she helped her mother pack up her belongings for the move to her condo in Hickory, and the second was when the sale of the Liggett cabin went through. Both times Miranda did what she had to do and left as soon as possible. She hadn’t been ready to face her grief yet, or the decision she’d made with regard to Carter. “There is still a warm feeling here...” she started to say.
“Wouldn’t be for me,” Donny said. “I was glad to leave that town in my rearview. Have you seen anyone you know? Old friends maybe?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/cynthia-thomason/high-country-cop/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.