High Country Christmas. Cynthia Thomason

Of course not. This is what I...we do here—take care of children in need.”

      He gave her a quick, piercing stare that made her stomach jump, and then looked back at the liquid in his mug. “That’s what you think, that Sawyer is needy?”

      “There are many different types of need, Mr. Walsh. No two children are the same, nor do they come from the same circumstances. Besides, your daughter was very hungry when she got here.”

      “I get that. But believe me, Sawyer is not needy in the usual sense. If she’d put a quarter of her clothes in a suitcase, she wouldn’t have been able to drag it across the state.”

      Ava had to think of Sawyer, not the past, so she asked the difficult question. “Why is your daughter afraid of you, Mr. Walsh?”

      “Afraid of me?” His lips curled up into a cynical grin. “She’s not afraid of me. She hates me.”

      Ava had spoken with kids who claimed to have difficult relationships with their parents, but few had used the word hate. It just wasn’t in a child’s nature to hate the person they depended upon.

      Walsh leaned forward and looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Does that surprise you, Mrs...?”

      “It’s Miss...” She almost said her first name and quickly avoided it. “Miss Cahill, and yes, I’m surprised. Your daughter is obviously independent and clever, and she was visibly upset when she saw you, but I haven’t witnessed an emotion anywhere near hate.”

      His head jerked up. His stare intensified. “What did you say your name is?”

      “Cahill.”

      “No. Your first name.”

      “I didn’t.” She paused a moment and then said, “It’s Ava.”

      “Ava, huh?” He rubbed his eyes, stared at her a moment longer. “The lack of sleep is getting to me,” he said.

      “Yes, I can appreciate that this has been a difficult time.”

      “I doubt you can know just how difficult. As far as Sawyer hating me, just wait. I haven’t strapped her to the back of my motorcycle yet.” He glanced into Ava’s short hallway toward the bathroom. “Something I’d better do before it gets much later. Even with the windshield attached and both dash heaters going, it could get chilly out there.”

      “You’ll pardon me for saying so, Mr. Walsh...”

      “You might as well call me Noah,” he said. “I don’t see us becoming pals, but this awkward moment between us entitles us to use first names.”

      Noah—the name of the man she’d met six years ago. The man who, in one night had changed her life. The man she’d tried so hard to forget because at the time she’d had no other choice.

      She struggled to keep her voice steady, to keep her hands wrapped tightly on her mug. To show any signs of the fierce emotions battling inside her would not help any of them.

      “All right, Noah,” she said, her mind grasping for any topic to lead her mind away from the turmoil it was experiencing. “I can’t imagine why you came to get your daughter on a bike. Wouldn’t a car have been more comfortable for a drive back to Chapel Hill?”

      He shifted on his chair, crossed his leg on the opposite knee. “Comfortable? Yeah, but I got here in just over two hours, and a car would have taken much longer. Plus I can keep a grip on Sawyer the whole way.” He stared hard at Ava a moment as if there was something he wanted to say. After a pause, he breathed deeply. “I know what you’re thinking. Has this happened before? Well, yeah it has. Gotta say though—” he looked around the comfortable kitchen in Ava’s apartment “—this is one of the better places Sawyer has picked.”

      “Ava! You in here?”

      The sound of her brother’s voice put an end to further conversation. Ava stood. “I’m in the kitchen, Carter. Come in.”

      Carter Cahill, wearing jeans and a casual shirt and jacket, strode into the kitchen. Sunday was his day off, so he’d obviously elected not to put on his official uniform. He stopped a few feet into the room and stared menacingly at Walsh. “Everything okay here?” he asked. “There’s a strange motorcycle outside. You all right, Ava?”

      Noah scowled. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

      Knowing she had to calm the situation and keep it from escalating into a match of words between the two men, Ava put the past—and her roiling stomach—aside. “This is the girl’s father, Carter,” she said, standing up. “Noah Walsh. He’s come to take her home.” Turning to Noah, she said, “This is my brother Carter. He’s chief of police in Holly River.”

      Both men nodded, but made no move to shake hands.

      “Where’s the girl?” Carter asked.

      “I’m here,” Sawyer said, coming into the kitchen. She looked rested and well, her hair combed into a ponytail. She wore the clothes Ava had brought her, jeans and a sweatshirt. With her hoodie covering her, she should be warm enough on the ride back to Chapel Hill. The temperature was going into the upper fifties today.

      She stared at her father. “Well, aren’t you going to put me in handcuffs and cart me out of here? I’d like to get home in time to plan my next escape.” Noah started to rise. His jaw muscles tensed.

      “Can we all just hold on a minute here?” Carter said. “Ava, I’ve got some information for you.” Speaking to Sawyer, he said, “Can you wait in the lobby awhile, Miss Walsh? And don’t try running off. If you do, I’ll have the entire police force of this town tracking you down.”

      “The entire force of this town?” Sawyer said. “Yikes, I’m scared.”

      Ava gave her a hard stare. “That’s enough, Sawyer. Just go into the lobby and wait for us.”

      Sawyer looked as if another smart remark were on the tip of her tongue, but apparently she thought better of uttering it and ambled from the kitchen with a last sarcastic comment. “I’ll be waiting, Daddy. Can we stop for ice cream on the way home?”

      Once Sawyer had left the room, Ava took a seat at the table. She hadn’t realized how weak her knees felt, how clouded her thinking.

      Carter began. “I’ve done some investigating into this situation,” he said. “I’ve discovered that this is the fourth time this year that Sawyer has run away from home.” He waited for a reaction from Noah.

      “It’s true,” he said. “She has become impossible.”

      “Be that as it may,” Carter continued, “each time your daughter has run farther than the last. If she tries it again, she could very well slip away from you forever.”

      “I don’t think so,” Noah said. “She wants you to believe her life is horrible, but I doubt she’d actually give up the advantages she has for a long absence. She’ll always come back.”

      Ava looked at Carter and, avoiding direct eye contact with Noah, she said. “Sawyer was riding with a truck driver. She hitchhiked from Chapel Hill. Surely as her father, you understand the risks associated with that type of behavior. I mean, she was lucky this time, but...”

      A muscle worked in Noah’s temple. “You think I don’t know that? I see where you people are going with this, but you’re way off base. Sawyer won’t try this again. She’ll be fine when I get her home. She’s made her point and knows she scared the...well, scared me pretty good.”

      Carter’s features reflected his skepticism. “For how long?”

      Noah sighed heavily as the room remained quiet. “Look,” he said. “Sawyer and I have our problems. I travel in my profession. I’m not home a lot, and Sawyer lives with housekeepers—very carefully selected housekeepers that I personally interview. I check their credentials. But Sawyer has a problem with boundaries. The relationships