High Country Cop

“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.