High Country Cop. Cynthia Thomason

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