Later that morning, Carter took Sam for a coffee.
“What do you think will happen to her?” Sam asked.
“Can’t say for sure. Probably a year’s sentence. If she doesn’t have any priors, maybe a couple years’ probation after that. She’ll definitely serve some time. She knew about the crop. She was helping Dale and Sheila voluntarily, and she admitted her reason for getting involved.” Carter sighed. “She was in pretty heavy, Sam. I’m sorry.”
“She just wanted to get out of Sheila’s house,” Sam said. “And she wasn’t making enough at the café to afford her own place.” Sam waited for Carter to say something and finally added, “It’s no excuse. I know that.”
“You’ve got a decision to make, buddy. Are you going to stick by her through all this?” Carter figured it was probably too soon for Sam to know the answer.
But Sam surprised him. “No. No way. I trusted her. I thought she trusted me. I guess no man likes being played for a fool, but somehow I think it’s worse when the guy is a cop.” He took a long swallow of his beer. “I can’t forgive her for breaking the law right under my nose.”
“I hear ya,” Carter said. “Forgiveness can be like drinking a whole bottle of castor oil. Might help eventually, but it doesn’t go down so well.” He stood up, ready to continue with the second part of his trying day. “Put some space between the two of you, Sam. Things can change with the passage of time.” Yeah, like fourteen years...
Carter left the café and tried to reach Lawton. Law hadn’t answered any of Carter’s phone calls, but he had to keep trying. This time, he picked up. “Hey, Carter.”
“Hello, Lawton. Just wanted you to know that I found all that stuff taken from the hardware store and the winery. Couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Lawton said, his voice quavering. “I never gave you any information about that stuff, Carter, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, Law. You didn’t.” It was okay with Carter if Lawton needed to keep his part in the investigation just between the two of them. “But in case you might feel more inclined to talk, can you tell me where Dale is now?”
“I don’t know, Carter. Honest I don’t.”
“Okay. We’ll find him. Oh, and Lawton...?”
“Yeah.”
“Just watch your back, okay?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MIRANDA ENJOYED MORNINGS in Cora’s house. She could wake slowly, letting bird sounds and the rustle of leaves on the trees bring her to complete alertness. But this particular morning, when she was fully awake, she remembered the heartache of the last night.
Today was Monday, and Miranda had to accept that she needed to get on with her life. Carter didn’t want her. He hadn’t called to apologize for his indifference the night before, and Miranda didn’t blame him. She’d made a choice fourteen years ago that excluded him from her life. Would she do it differently now that she was older and wiser? Yes. If she could go back to that time again, she’d do anything to make it work.
She called her daughter in from the barn. “Come on, Em. We’re going to see the minister this morning. I made an appointment to talk to him about Lawton.”
Emily stood at the barn door with Buster close by. “Can’t I stay here, Mom? Miss Cora will watch me, and I’ll be here when you get back.”
Miranda smiled at the tactics she’d used when she was Emily’s age. “No, you cannot. Miss Cora has done enough for the two of us.”
Emily headed toward the house. An hour later, at eleven thirty, both she and her daughter were respectably dressed and ready to go to the Methodist church. They went out to the porch just as a car pulled into Cora’s drive. A familiar car. Carter’s personal vehicle.
With her arm around Emily, Miranda continued down the steps. She wouldn’t run back in the house and risk looking like a coward, or a fool.
“Hi, Carter!” Emily called. “We’re going to church even though it’s Monday.”
“Good for you,” he said. “You’re looking mighty pretty this morning.”
Emily beamed, basking in the rare attention.
“Good morning, Miranda,” he said, his voice in perfect control. His eyes told a different story as he avoided looking directly at her.
“Have you seen Ava?” he asked. “I’m here to pick her up.”
“I’m here!” Ava hollered from the front door. “I’m ready.” She bounded down the stairs. “Don’t you two look nice,” she said to Miranda.
Miranda wanted to ask where brother and sister were going on a day that was a workday for Carter, but, of course, their plans weren’t her concern. She merely said, “Thanks,” and went to her car.
Miranda pulled out of the drive ahead of Carter. She tried not to think about how he looked this morning in faded jeans and a light green shirt that matched his eyes and molded to his broad chest. Or the fine lines in the corners of his eyes that indicated he might not have slept so well last night. In fact, he seemed tired, as if he’d already put in a full day’s work, and it was only noon.
She put the radio on, but immediately turned it off. It was definitely time to go back to Durham. The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about them. “We’re leaving on Wednesday, Em. We’re going home.”
Emily sat forward and stared at her mother. “What? No, Mom, not yet. I’m not ready to go.”
“We don’t have a reason to stay, honey. Lawton is doing well, and I have other cases in Durham.”
“How about fun?” Emily argued. “Isn’t fun a good reason to stay? I like it at Miss Cora’s. And Ava is really nice.”
“Ava will be going back to Charlotte soon,” Miranda pointed out.”
“I know, but she’s coming back. She’s going to be ministerator of the home for children.”
“That’s administrator, Em, and yes, I know that. Ava is very happy to have gotten the job.”
“I can make lots of friends with the kids in the home. Ava showed me pictures. It’s really pretty there.”
“Running the home will be Ava’s job, Emily. She won’t be able to entertain many visitors, no matter how well-intentioned they are.”
“But what about Carter? He’s starting to be nice now, too.”
Yes, she thought, Carter had come a long way since he first met Emily.
“And Jace. I really like him,” Emily said. “He’s so funny.”
Miranda took a deep breath. They probably could stay a few more days, but what would be the point? She’d attempted to revive Carter’s emotions in the barn last night, and all she’d succeeded in doing was making him uncomfortable. What difference would a day or two make?
“No arguments, Em. We’ve got to go home. Our car will be ready tomorrow. And anyway, I’m sure Daddy misses you, and you miss him.”
“Yeah, but he was just here. And besides, Miss Cora has a horse, and I bet Carter would teach me to ride.”
“I wouldn’t count on that, honey. He’s a busy man with an important job. He doesn’t have time.”
Emily stomped her foot on the floor of the car. “Well, just darn it!”
Miranda gave her an indulgent smile. “I hope Reverend Babbitt has time to give you a short message about patience and understanding.”
Miranda’s mind was made up. She’d talk to the reverend this morning and see Lawton one more time tomorrow evening after he’d put in two days at his new job. There was nothing to keep her and Emily from returning to Durham. So early Wednesday morning, they’d be on the road, and Miranda didn’t know when or if she’d ever come back to Holly River again. She’d expected to leave Holly River with a sense of accomplishment after helping Law. She hadn’t expected to leave with this overwhelming sense of loss hanging over her.
* * *
“WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?” Ava didn’t mince words. Nor did she hide her
opinions behind a false smile.
Carter gave her a sideways glance as they pulled away from Cora’s. He hoped Ava wasn’t getting ready to give him one of her big-sis lectures. It was nearly an hour’s drive to Wilton Hollow.
“I don’t have a problem,” he answered, trying not to sound too much like the petulant little brother.
“You barely acknowledged Miranda just now. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” he snapped. “What’s going on with you all? I get yelled at if I’m not sweet as pie to Emily. So today I compliment her, and I’m getting yelled at for ignoring Miranda.”
Ava narrowed her eyes at him. There was no mistaking her pre-lecture look of disapproval. “Is it really too much to ask for you to be nice to two people at the same time, Carter? Especially when one of them is the girl you swore you were going to marry one day.”
“Ancient history, Ava. Let it go.”
“You should give Miranda another chance.”
Oh, heck no. Ava wasn’t going to get away with playing with his emotions. “Not going to happen. Once was enough.”
Ava tapped on the door handle while she planned her next attack. “Women know things, Carter. And I happen to believe...correct that, I happen to know that Miranda would like to give your relationship another try.”
“How would you know that, Ava? Are you a mind reader now?”
“More or less. At least I’m not totally clueless like you are. Can’t you read the signs? The way her eyes follow you? The way she smiles and her cheeks turn pink when you enter the room? Mama’s noticed it, too.”
“Oh, great,” he said. “The Cahill coven twisting fate to suit themselves.”
Ava sighed. “Are you actually expecting me to believe that you have no feelings for Miranda at all? Are you telling me you’re not the least bit interested in a redo of your history?”
“I’m not asking you to believe anything, Ava. And as far as telling you what I might be thinking, you can forget it. Conversation closed.”
She tsked, a habit she’d picked up from Cora. “It’s not good to keep things bottled up, Carter.”
He gave her a quick, hard stare before returning his gaze to the road. “Do I have to remind you what we’re doing today, Ava? We’re on our way to the home of a complete stranger. A woman neither of us has ever heard of before this week. A woman who, for the last year, has been cashing checks written by our mother to the tune of fifteen hundred a month.”
“I haven’t forgotten any of that,” Ava said, with just a hint of haughtiness. “I just figured that since we’re trapped in the same car, we might as well hash out some details of your life.”
He held a frustrated breath before saying, “I can pull over anytime and let you out.”
She sighed. “No. I’ll stop. I just want you to be happy.”
“Fine. Then why don’t you leave my life up to me and make me happy by thinking about what we’re going to say to Gladys Kirshner when we get to her house.”
One of Ava’s failings, and she didn’t have many, was her inability to admit when she was losing an argument. Thankfully today she gave up rather graciously. “Okay, I said I’d drop it.” After a few minutes she said, “Let me do the talking when we get to Wilton Hollow. I’ll tell Gladys what we know. You might just bite her head off.”
Carter rolled his eyes. True that.
* * *
WILTON HOLLOW WAS a small town even by small-town standards. Two intersecting roads met under a single traffic light with a half dozen or so side streets running off until apparently people had lost interest in building houses on them. Despite the seriousness of his mission today, Carter smiled as he surveyed one such road. Well, looks like we have all the houses we need for this one, he imagined a founding father saying.
Still, it was a pleasant enough town, mostly senior citizens, Carter figured. There was one gas station, a small convenience store and two churches. Dining out was apparently limited to a fast-food place in the middle of town. Wilton Hollow–ites were folks living out their lives on tiny little lots with small trim bushes in front of porches big enough for two chairs and a table.
“This is it,” Ava said. “Turn right. That’s Landsdown Street.”
Carter did as instructed and pulled in front of the fourth house, a frame structure with faded window shutters and peeling paint on the walls. Evidently Gladys hadn’t been using her fifteen hundred a month on home improvements. And she’d been keeping his own mother from using the money to keep her place up.
He and Ava got out of the car and walked up a short brick walkway to the front door. He pressed a push-button doorbell, and a rusty chime announced their presence.
“Remember,” Ava said. “I’ll do the talking.”
“I got it, Ava. I’ll let you begin, but I’m jumping in when I need to.”
The front door was opened by a middle-aged woman whose brown hair was striped with gray. She had on tan baggy pants that Carter figured would have been appropriate for the senior women’s golf tournament. The woman must have prized the pants since she covered them and a plain brown blouse with a full apron.
She stared at Carter and Ava. “Yes?”
“Are you Gladys Kirshner?” Ava asked.
“I am. State your business. I’m very busy.”
Ava introduced herself using her and Carter’s full names. She did not indicate that Carter was a police officer. Carter immediately noted that the woman’s gray eyes widened when she heard the name Cahill.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped in a true High Mountain drawl. “Everything is legal. I have it in writing.”
“We’re not here to accuse you of anything, Mrs.... It is Mrs., isn’t it?”
“It’s Miss, as if you didn’t know.”
“May we come in and speak with you?” Ava asked, her voice low and pleasant. How could anyone not invite Ava, in her crisp blouse, tailored black pants, sensible shoes and hair swept into a tidy bun, into their home?
The woman pondered her options for a moment and then opened the door wider. “You might as well. I figured one of y’all would show up one day.”
“Thank you.” Ava stepped inside and Carter followed.
Gladys thumbed at a pair of chairs by an old fireplace. “You can sit if you want.”
Ah. True Southern hospitality, Carter thought.
Ava chose a wicker chair and Carter settled on the floral sofa. Gladys sat in a rocker and set it going with one slippered foot. She waited until Ava spoke.
“Miss Kirshner, we’ve come here today because we are aware of money my mother, Cora Cahill, is sending you each month.”
“What about it?” Gladys asked.
“We don’t know what it’s for,” Ava said. “We’d like to know why she’s sending you fifteen hundred dollars a month.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
Ava darted a glance at Carter, who rubbed his chin. It was a darn good question. He and Ava had argued about being direct with their mother, but Ava had insisted that forthrightness would never work with Cora. She would only give them another of her mini lessons about appreciating the value of a dollar in their own lives.
“We didn’t think she’d tell us,” Carter answered honestly. “My mother can be secretive about things.” Like she never once complained to her children about Raymond. And she never argued with him in the presence of her kids. But she protected them from Raymond’s worst fits of temper with some kind of magic power that quieted her husband.
“That’s right,” Ava said. “All her life, our mother bore her burdens privately. If she had wanted us to know about this money, she would have told us. The fact that she didn’t, and that the transactions were kept in a shoe box in the back of my father’s desk, indicates to us that this is a private matter.”
“She’s been paying this money for
over a year,” Carter said. “Since my father died. That amounts to quite a sum. And we’d like to know why. We know that you worked for a short time at the paper mill, so you and my father are connected.”
“Oh, we were connected all right...”
A loud crash came from the back of the house. Ava emitted a gasp, and Carter went into cop mode, though weaponless. He didn’t know what he would do if there were real trouble, but he was alert. Gladys jumped up from the rocker and hurried toward a hallway. Before she’d exited the living room, a tortured wail followed the crash.
Carter quickly took an offensive position and followed her down the hall and into a small bedroom. The only furniture in the room was a bed with metal bars on the sides and a three-drawer dresser. One of the drawers had been pulled out and overturned, likely the source of the loud noise. The only light was an overhead fixture, currently turned off. Sunlight struggled to find a path through slightly opened blinds.
A boy sat cross-legged in front of the dresser. He rocked back and forth while uttering a repetitious sound that was a cross between a cry and a sob. He tore through the pile of clothes on the floor as if he were looking for something.
Having followed the other adults, Ava stopped at the threshold of the room. “What’s going on?”
“Shush,” Gladys ordered. “Can’t you see you’ve upset my son enough? Robert’s not used to visitors.” She got down on her knees, put her hands on each side of the boy’s face and spoke slowly and methodically.
“It’s all right, Robert. I’ll find it.” She spotted a tiny stuffed tail among the clothing and pulled it out. “Here’s your giraffe. He’s fine, see?”
Robert grabbed the toy and clutched it to his chest.
“Everything’s okay, Robert,” she said, stroking the top of his head where his straight hair fell to his eyebrows. “Mama made everything all right again.”
Robert stilled, looked up at his mother. A small upturn of his lips indicated he was content for now. He began counting the spots on the toy giraffe.
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