The Mighty Quinns: Devin. Kate Hoffmann

and wouldn’t be able to sneak out and meet him once the sun set. There would be no long lazy summers at the lake or cozy winters sitting by a campfire. It was over.

      There’d been a lot of women since Elodie. He’d forgotten most of them, but Elodie Winchester had stuck with him. Maybe it was because they’d never had any kind of closure. She’d never called, never written. When she’d come home for Christmas holidays, she’d been invisible.

      Dev hadn’t tried to contact her. Frederick Winchester had made it clear that if Dev tried to contact Elodie, Mary Cassidy would find herself without a job, without a home to live in, and without any prospects for finding work in Winchester in the future. So he’d let her go. At least, on the surface.

      “Dispatch to RC zero-one.” A blast of static followed and Dev reached for the radio.

      “This is Dev. What do you have for me, Sally?”

      “You were right. That rental came out of Acme Rentals in Asheville.”

      “Who rented the car?”

      “Elodie Winchester,” Sally said. “She’s got it for a week.”

      Dev let out a tightly held breath, sinking back into his seat. “Thanks, Sally. Keep this to yourself, all right?”

      “Sure, boss. What do you think she’s doing in town again?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Will there be trouble?”

      “People haven’t forgotten what the Winchesters did to this place. But Elodie had no part in that. She shouldn’t be blamed.”

      “She’s a Winchester,” Sally said. “That puts a big target on her back.”

      “Yes, it does,” he murmured. “I’ll pay her a visit later, make sure everything’s okay. Call me if you hear anything else. Meantime, I’m going to head over to the high school. I need to have a conversation with Jimmy Joe Babcock.”

      “Ten-four, boss.”

      He started the cruiser and steered it toward the high school, his mind still mulling over the reality of seeing Elodie again.

      He’d always wondered what kind of woman she’d become. As a teenager, she’d been sweet and silly, far too naive and willing to love unconditionally. She’d softened his rough edges, made him believe that he could be something, do something with his life. She’d always seen the best in people and refused to believe the worst, even when the truth slapped her in the face.

      Dev had been the opposite. By the time he was seventeen, he’d amassed a rather sizable chip on his shoulder. He’d witnessed firsthand how the town and the Winchesters could wear a person down. He had just one plan, and that was to get as far away as fast as he could. And he’d done just that, leaving the day after his high school graduation.

      He’d worked odd jobs and put himself through school, getting a criminal justice degree in five years. He’d been all set to enter the police academy in Atlanta when his mother called. The Winchesters were bankrupt, she was about to lose her job and her home, and she had no idea what to do.

      Dev had returned to Winchester within the month and had been lucky enough to sign on with the local police department as a rookie patrolman. As the town economy worsened over the next five years, many of his fellow officers moved on to better jobs. And two years ago, he’d been the senior officer in the department and accepted the job of police chief—at a greatly reduced salary from the last police chief.

      But Dev liked his job. He knew what he was doing was important. If the town had any chance of bouncing back, it would happen only if he could keep crime at bay. A single meth lab, a car theft ring, even a clever burglar, could bring it all crashing down. Once the town had a reputation for trouble, no one would want to live there or visit and the town would never recover.

      His attention focused on a small group of smokers, huddled near the edge of the school parking lot. Dev threw the car into gear and slowly pulled up in front of them. “You boys really want to spend the rest of your life buying cigarettes? You get hooked now, it’s much harder to kick it later. It’s an expensive habit.” Dev turned and grinned at Jimmy Joe. “And where are you getting money for smokes, Babcock? After spending all that cash on those tires for your brother, I’d think you’d be broke right about now.”

      Dev got out of the car and stepped in front of Babcock. “The rest of you can check your homework. I need to have a word with Jimmy Joe.” The boys exchanged glances and the group slowly broke up.

      When they were alone and the others were out of earshot, Dev leaned back against the cruiser and crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you stole those tires from Feller’s. The only thing I don’t know is what you plan to do about it.”

      Jimmy Joe stared down at the ground. “What can I do? I can’t give them back. My brother already put them on his car.”

      “I’m sure if you offered to pay for them, we could work something out.”

      “I don’t have any money,” Jimmy Joe said.

      “Not now. But if you find yourself a job, you’ll have some cash.”

      “There are no jobs,” he said. “My dad’s been looking for two years.”

      “You really want to fix this?” Dev asked.

      Jimmy Joe nodded.

      “After school, you walk over to the hardware store. I’m going to leave a list of supplies for you to pick up. You can pay for them on my account. Then I want you to bring everything over to Zelda’s. I’ll meet you there.”

      “What are we going to do?”

      “We’re going to turn you into an upstanding citizen of Winchester,” Dev said. “And until you pay Marv back for those tires, I don’t want to see you spending money on cigarettes.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Now, get to class. No more trouble.”

      Dev watched the kid walk away.

      One by one, he’d deal with the problems in Winchester. It was all he could do. Lately it seemed he was scrambling just to keep ahead of the game instead of doing anything proactive. But if Jimmy Joe showed up at Zelda’s, he could count his day a success.

      Dev got back into the cruiser. Now he needed to address another problem. But this problem promised to be more personal than professional.

      * * *

      ELODIE WINCHESTER SLOWLY climbed the porch steps of her childhood home. Somewhere in the distance, a blue jay’s call echoed in the quiet morning breeze. She reached out and ran her hand along the painted rail, now weathered with age and peeling with neglect.

      Made of the local red brick, the house was a sprawling homage to the Queen Anne style. A wide veranda circled the entire first floor, interspersed with simple wooden columns that held up a shingled roof. It had been built by her great-grandfather at the turn of the century, completed just ten years after he opened his textile mill.

      But the house had been empty for six years and she could see the work that would be required to bring it back to its former glory.

      Elodie had never really looked at the house from a maintenance viewpoint. To her, it had always been more like a fairy castle, with its high-peaked roofs and rooftop widow’s walk. Now it was her house, the only compensation she’d received after her father had raided her trust fund in a futile attempt to save his failing investments.

      All of her siblings had suffered the same fate, but most of them had already been drawing on their trusts for years. She’d had the most to lose, so she’d gotten the only thing left that hadn’t—or couldn’t—be sold.

      The house had been on the market for years, but its deteriorating condition and the floundering town had driven away all the qualified buyers. No one in Winchester could afford to buy it,