Cynthia Thomason - High Country Cop

“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

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.”