High Country Cop

by Cynthia Thomason

  “Got it. And it’s apparent you want to change the subject.”

  Sam opened his menu, though like most of the locals he probably had it memorized by now. “What do you feel like eating, Carter?”

  “Fried chicken,” Carter said. “Won’t be as good as Mom’s, but it won’t be bad either.”

  “Make that two.” Sam called Allie to the table, shamelessly flirted with her again and ordered. Then his gaze wandered to the door, and Carter’s soon followed—and lingered. Miranda and her daughter had obviously picked the River Café for their supper. What were the odds of that since the tourist guide showed at least ten restaurants in town?

  Sam chuckled. “I see you noticed her, too, Carter. Tells me your cold heart is at least still beating.”

  “That’s her,” Carter said in a hoarse whisper. “That’s Miranda and her kid.”

  “She has a kid?” Sam looked genuinely disappointed. “Is she married?”

  “Didn’t Betsy tell you that, as well? She was married, but she’s divorced now.”

  “Oh, that’s cool, then. You want them to join us?” Sam started to raise his hand.

  “No. That’s the last thing I want. I’m already wishing I was at any other restaurant in town but this one.”

  A restaurant employee led Miranda and Emily to a table in the bar. They were almost seated when Emily noticed Carter. “What did I tell you, Mom? There’s the policeman, so we did see someone we know.” She scurried over to Carter’s table. “Hello, what’s your name again?”

  Carter told her.

  “Hi, Mr. Cahill. Mom told me to call you by your last name. She said it’s respectful.”

  “Hello.” Carter fumbled for words. He didn’t know how to talk to little girls, especially Donny Larson’s kid. “Your name’s Emily, right?” Of course he knew, but asking filled in a short block of time.

  “Emily Larson,” she said.

  Carter introduced her to Sam, who complimented her Minions T-shirt. There was no female too young for Sam to charm.

  Carter thought she’d go back to her table, but she stood there with her little hands gripping the side of his table. For a moment, Carter had a flashback of other small hands that might have reached out for him if Fate had dealt him a better future. “Is there something else you wanted, Emily?”

  She hunched one shoulder. “No.”

  Miranda ambled over to the table. “Come on, Em. We have our own table and you’re bothering Officer Cahill and his friend.”

  True enough. Carter was bothered plenty by this whole situation, not the least of which was trying to make conversation with this miniature mirror image of Donny Larson. It didn’t help that seeing Miranda with her child only brought back memories of his own losses.

  And then there was the way Miranda looked. A bit tired perhaps, but that didn’t detract from her put-together style. She’d changed from her business attire when they’d met at the Jefferson cabin. Her hair was casual, pulled back in a short ponytail reminding him of...well, reminding him of lots of things. She had on a pair of jeans that fit just right and a pink blouse tucked in to flatter her figure. Her thick bangs fell just short of her eyes, drawing attention to their unforgettable blue color.

  “Imagine this,” Miranda said. “Running into you twice in one day, and me only arriving in town this morning.” Her voice quavered slightly as if the coincidence was not one she relished.

  Carter introduced her to Sam, who thankfully kept his limited knowledge of their past to himself. “How did things go after I left Liggett Mountain?” Carter asked.

  “Okay, I guess,” she said. “Lawton needs so much help. Because of your profession, you probably know that a lot of men released from prison are incarcerated again within three years.”

  Sure he knew that. It was his business to know.

  “Readjusting to life is difficult for many of the released,” she added.

  Yeah, and Lawton would no doubt experience the most trouble with trying to settle back into the town he’d violated so badly. “You’ll have to excuse me for saying this,” Carter said. “But maybe Lawton would have been better off to move to another location instead of back in with his brother. That combination spelled trouble before, and it could again.”

  Miranda started to respond, but Sam cut in. “I thought you said Lawton before. You’re talking about Lawton Jefferson?”

  Miranda stood a little straighter, as if she was used to hearing negative reactions to the mention of her cousin’s name. “He’s my cousin,” she said. “I’ve come to town to help him get settled.”

  Sam looked at Carter. “Lawton’s not in trouble already, is he?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Then why did you go visit the Jefferson boys today?”

  “You know why.” Carter was becoming irritated and aware that anything he said might set Miranda off again. “Dale’s vehicle was seen in the alley behind the hardware store. I went up to Liggett to get some answers from him. My visit had nothing to do with Lawton.”

  “Lawton didn’t do anything wrong,” Emily said in defense of her cousin.

  Miranda put a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Carter knows that, honey.” Addressing Sam, she said, “It’s my opinion that Lawton’s biggest obstacle to finding success after release might be the way the people in this town have selective memories. They remember why Lawton was arrested, but conveniently forget that he served his time.”

  Sam gave Carter a look that said he was aware that this was a prickly situation.

  Feeling the need to smooth things over, Carter said, “If there’s anything my guys or I can do to help...”

  Miranda’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Carter. I know we got off on the wrong foot this morning, but I truly believe you mean that.”

  Did he? Was he willing to help Lawton adapt to life in Holly River? Not really. He’d more likely help him move to the next town over in the county.

  Allie delivered two chicken dinners to the table, and Miranda started to lead Emily away.

  “Nice meeting you,” Sam called. When they were out of hearing range, he said, “She might have a hard time convincing folks in this town that Lawton is completely rehabilitated. I’ve only been here a couple of years, and even I know that Dale Jefferson’s name comes up every time we have a crime. And it’s common knowledge that Lawton was his sidekick for a number of years.”

  Carter nodded. “I know, but the Miranda I remember is a determined female, so unless she’s changed, she’ll do everything she can to make Lawton’s transition an easy one.”

  Sam had already dug into his chicken dinner. Watching Miranda across the room, Carter didn’t know how the greasy Southern meal would settle in his knotted stomach.

  * * *

  CARTER TOOK TWO days off every week, Wednesday and Sunday, a luxury not afforded to many small-town police chiefs. He took Sunday because things were usually quiet in town with tourists leaving the High Country mountains at the end of their weekends. He took Wednesday because the tourists hadn’t yet started to invade the mountains for cooling weekend trips. Normally Carter went out to Snowy Mountain Farm on Wednesdays to see if he could help out.

  Carter’s maternal grandfather had started Snowy Mountain five decades earlier, and it was still a small but thriving business. The Cahill family grew five thousand Fraser fir trees every year, selling most of the crop to North Carolina residents who came back year after year to pick out their holiday trees. Christmas-tree choosing and cutting had become longtime traditions to the folks who kept coming back, and Carter’s mother, Cora, who’d inherited the farm from her father, always welcomed families with hot cocoa, a visit with Santa himself and a full gift shop of ornaments and trinkets.

  In truth, it took a lot of work and effort to have five thousand trees ready every November. Trees had to be shaped and sheared several times during the y
ear, and a new crop had to be planted from seeds, fertilized and watched over until the trees were full grown in seven years’ time. When a family picked out a tree, few realized that the Cahill family had been nurturing the heavenly scented beauty for almost a decade.

  Holding the gasoline-powered shears, Carter turned to his brother, Jace, who had shown up today to help. Carter took sound-deafening headphones from over his ears. “How many part-time guys do we have working today, Jace?” Carter asked.

  “Five. I could use a couple more hands, but if we keep on schedule, we should have a hundred trees pruned by the end of the day.”

  “That will be a good start to the summer cuts.” He turned his attention to a lone figure winding her way up the hillside between stands of trees. “Here comes Mama. Hope she’s got coffee in that thermos.”

  “Me, too,” Jace said.

  When Cora Cahill reached her boys, she sat on a block of wood the men used to trim the highest tree levels and took a deep breath. “That climb up the hill gets harder every time.” Smiling, she added, “But I’ve brought coffee, so I’m sure you boys will think that my nearly killing myself was worth it.”

  “Why don’t you use the golf cart?” Carter asked, taking the cup she offered.

  “And admit I can’t make it up here?” Cora said. “Never. Put down the shears for a minute, fellas, so I can catch up with you.”

  “We’re coming to dinner tonight, Mama. You can catch up then.”

  “Yeah, but some topics can’t wait.”

  Using this opening to mention a subject that had been on his mind, Carter said, “Yeah, like why you aren’t going with Aunt Dolly to Hawaii.”

  Cora frowned. “Did she tell you that? Dolly’s always had loose lips.”

  “She told me you canceled on her. But she said you didn’t tell her why. What’s going on?”

  “I did so tell her. I said it just wasn’t a good time for a vacation, that’s all. A woman’s allowed to change her mind.”

  Carter narrowed his eyes. “You were looking forward to this vacation, so why don’t you reschedule? Pick a winter month when you’ll really enjoy the sunshine.”

  “I have my reasons for making this decision,” Cora said. “So enough about this trip. I want to ask you some questions, Carter.”

  Carter and Jace sipped their coffees, knowing the futility of stopping Cora once she wanted to be heard.

  “Okay, since neither of you will ask, I’ll tell you.” Staring at Carter, she said, “Miranda Jefferson is back in town, but I’ll bet you already knew that.”

  Carter sighed. Here we go. “I knew. I ran into her at Dale Jefferson’s place. She’s doing some social work for Lawton, trying to make his leaving prison easier.”

  “How did that go?” Cora asked.

  Trying to steer the conversation away from his mother’s obvious interest, Carter said, “How did Lawton’s integration go? Don’t know, Mama. He just got back to town.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Cora snapped. “How did it go between you and Miranda?”

  “Fine. Why wouldn’t it? Miranda and I called it quits years ago. A lot has happened since then.”

  “Most definitely has,” Cora said. “But now you’re both single, and you never know...”

  “Mama, stop it. I’m not interested in Miranda. You know that, and I’d appreciate it if the gossip in this town turned to other subjects. Miranda and I might end up friends after all this time, but I even have my doubts about that.”

  Cora looked at a spot halfway down the hillside. “I’m not so sure,” she said.

  Carter turned his attention to the narrow path his mother had just taken up the hill. Sure enough, another woman was coming up to join them. The blond streaks in her brown hair glinted in the sunlight as she progressed up the incline slowly and carefully. “What the heck is she doing here?” Carter asked. “And why would she attempt this trip in those stupid sandals? She probably hasn’t climbed a mountain in years.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CARTER NEVER HAD a chance to satisfy his curiosity about Miranda’s arrival on Snowy Mountain. His mother had shot up from her wood block seat and was rushing down the path to meet her. “Miranda, oh, honey, it’s so good to see you.”

  Carter could hear the squeals from several hundred feet away.

  Cora was a profusion of questions and smiles. Apparently she was determined to get Miranda to open up since her son had refused. Well, she likely wouldn’t get any more information than her son had given her. Miranda was here on business to take care of her cousin. That was that.

  “How have you been?” Cora asked. “Why haven’t you come home before now? I hear you have a daughter. I want to hear all about her.”

  Unfortunately Carter couldn’t hear Miranda’s answers. Her enthusiasm at seeing Cora again seemed genuine but underwhelming next to Cora’s boisterous greeting. Although Miranda and Cora had always gotten along, which was a victory in itself considering Raymond Cahill’s constant attempts to keep Miranda away from his family.

  Arm in arm, like two long-lost friends, the two women joined up with the men.

  “Hi, Carter,” Miranda said.

  “Morning.”

  “I stopped at your office, but the dispatcher told me this was your day off. And by the way, I was so happy to see Mrs. Moynahan again. She was always so nice to us in high school.”

  “She’s a peach,” Carter said. “Why did you go to the office?”

  “I wanted to see you. Mrs. Moynahan said you’d probably be here at the tree farm.”

  “Same as most every Wednesday,” he said. “You’re here without your daughter?”

  “I hired a girl from the college to watch Emily today. They’re going to the animal rescue center. An injured hawk came in last night, and the vet is going to repair the bird’s wing. That’s right up Em’s alley.”

  She looked around at the trees nearest her. “The crop looks good this year.”

  She would notice that, and she was right. Back in high school Carter and Miranda had driven the golf cart up this hill many nights, though back then, their purpose had been, among other things, to watch the moon, not the growing firs.

  “It’s coming along,” he said.

  “We’re trying something new this year,” Cora said. “We’re offering trees in large planters so when the season is over, folks can plant the evergreen in their yards. After nurturing these firs for years, it seemed a shame to just cut and decorate them. Now, if folks choose to, they can have their tree near their homes for years to come.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Miranda said. Turning to Jace, who had thus far remained silent, she added, “You’re looking good, Jace. Have you taken over full-time management of Snowy Mountain?”

  Jace’s involvement with the tree farm had been an ongoing issue between him and Cora for years. Cora wanted him at the farm full time, but Jace wasn’t ready to give up his laid-back lifestyle of playing his guitar and delegating rafting trips to his help. Occasionally Jace conducted the trips, but mostly he assigned the younger, more enthusiastic guys.

  Jace made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a permanent gig yet. The tree farm would tie him down with responsibilities, and he valued his free-spirited way of living too much. He liked having to answer only to himself and his scruffy mountain dog.

  “Not yet.” Jace smoothed a thick strand of nut-brown hair off his forehead and responded to Miranda’s open arms with a quick, indifferent hug. Carter figured that’s all the welcome Miranda was going to get from his loyal brother, who had helped him through their breakup. Jace was one individual who could carry a grudge to the grave. Since their father died a little over a year ago, he was only now coming to terms with the bitter feelings he’d had for Raymond.

  Carter had gotten along with their father better than Jace had, but
still, he hadn’t shed a tear when the old man died. Jace, though, the third born, the one his father always viewed as weak and incorrigible, he’d practically smiled through the entire graveside service. Their older sister, Ava, was the only one who’d never seemed to raise their father’s dander. But then, she was pretty, smart and successful.

  Carter cleared his throat. It was time to get down to business. “So what brings you up here, Miranda?” he asked. “I assume this visit and the difficult trek up the hill is about more than you visiting a few Christmas trees.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Yeah? What is it?”

  She glanced quickly at his two family members until Carter took the hint. “Can you guys give us a minute?” he said.

  “Let’s check on the fellas up the hill,” Cora said to Jace. “I’ll bet they want some coffee, too.”

  “Don’t be a stranger, Miranda. Bring that daughter of yours out to the house and we’ll have some girl talk,” Cora said as she and Jace wandered away.

  “I’ll do that, Cora. Thanks.”

  Once they were out of sight, Carter said, “I can offer you a wood block to sit on. That’s about the fanciest accommodation we have around here. But when you’re ready to leave I’ll have one of the men come up with the golf cart and take you down.” He attempted a smile. “I couldn’t help noticing your shoes aren’t quite appropriate for hill climbing.”

  Miranda sank onto the block, slipped her sandals off and rubbed her feet. Carter used to massage her feet after cheerleading practice, but best not to think about that now. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll take you up on that. I’d forgotten how steep the hills are.”

  Carter folded his arms across his chest. “You mentioned a proposition you wanted to discuss.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” She looked up at him with the clear, beautiful eyes that had once made him do anything she wanted. He reminded himself not to be taken in again. Those days were over.

  “It concerns Lawton,” she said. “I’ve decided that he needs a bit more help than I can provide.”