Читать книгу High Country Cop - Cynthia Thomason - Страница 14

CHAPTER THREE

BY THE TIME Miranda pulled into the parking lot for the Hummingbird Inn, she had calmed enough to think about the duties that lay ahead of her. She had to unpack two suitcases, prepare a lunch for her and Emily and talk to Mrs. Dillingham about a reasonable rate for renting the guest cottage behind the bed-and-breakfast, rather than just a room.

Miranda had learned a great deal about the inn in just the few minutes she’d taken to register. The bed-and-breakfast had been open only a year. The Dillinghams had purchased an old wooden dormitory once used by a local college and turned it into a cozy and warm space for Holly River tourists. The cottage where Miranda was staying was a separate building that had recently been renovated from the original gardening shed. The colors of the cottage matched the crisp white-and-black exterior of the main building. Emily had fallen in love with the small porch with a swing hanging from the ceiling.

“I want to stay here, Mom,” Emily had said when she first saw the cottage.

Miranda found Mrs. Dillingham in the living room arranging a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Dillingham said. “How was your morning?”

“Fine, thanks. I’m going to be staying in Holly River for as much as a few weeks,” she said. “I like your cottage, and I’m wondering what weekly rate we might agree upon.”

“Let’s see.” Mrs. Dillingham smiled down at Emily. “How do you like it here?”

“It’s really nice,” Emily said.

“Okay, then.” Lifting her gaze to Miranda, Mrs. Dillingham said, “How does two hundred per week sound?”

“Like a very generous offer,” Miranda quickly agreed. “Thank you so much. I can start putting our things in there. Afterward, I’ll make a trip to the grocery to stock the kitchenette. I really appreciate this, Mrs. Dillingham.”

“Call me Lucy,” the woman said. “After all, we’ll practically be family living so closely together.”

Miranda reached for her credit card. “Let me go ahead and pay for the first week now, Lucy.”

The innkeeper set down her pruning shears and walked to the registration counter. She concluded the payment by writing the name Larson in the guest book, and thanked Miranda for paying in advance. “By the way, dear, I know you used to live in Holly River. It must be nice to return to such a charming town and visit with old friends.”

Knowing it was quite probable that Lucy Dillingham had never driven into the hills and hollows of Liggett Mountain, Miranda kept her response vague. “I doubt many of my friends from high school still live here. I’ve been gone for fourteen years, and unfortunately I didn’t keep in touch with my girlfriends from back then.”

“What about family?” Lucy asked.

Miranda explained that her mother lived in Hickory and her father was deceased. Lucy reacted with customary expressions of sympathy.

“Then what brings you back here? Business perhaps?”

Durham was certainly different from Holly River, Miranda thought. In Durham no one would think to ask her why she was staying in one location for any length of time. But it appeared that Holly River curiosity had infected Lucy Dillingham as it had everyone else in town for as long as Miranda could remember. “In a way,” she answered. “I do have a family member in the area who needs my help.”

“Oh, my. Anyone I might know?”

“I don’t think so...”

“It’s our cousin, Lawton Jefferson,” Emily said. “Do you know Lawton?”

Lucy’s expression changed from one of mild curiosity to something bordering shock and disgust. “You’re a Jefferson?” she asked.

“I used to be,” Miranda said. “Larson is my married name, though I’m divorced now.”

“Is Lawton related to Dale Jefferson?”

Obviously Dale’s reputation had traveled even to this insulated place of charm and gentility in the middle of Holly River. “Yes, they’re brothers.”

“I see. I’ve never personally met either one of the men. I understand Dale lives on Liggett Mountain.”

“So does cousin Lawton,” Emily said. “He just got out of prison and moved in with cousin Dale.”

Lucy slowly shook her head and mumbled, “Hmm...”

Miranda patted the top of Emily’s head. “That’s enough for now, Em. We’ve interrupted Mrs. Dillingham’s chores enough, and we’ve got our own chores to do.”

They started for the exit, but Lucy stopped them with one last question. “Will you be going to Liggett Mountain to help out or will your cousin be coming here?”

Miranda understood the deeper meaning of the question. Please don’t allow your cousin to come on this property. “I doubt he’ll come here,” she said. “I’ve already been to the mountain today. It’s like going home to me. Liggett Mountain is where I grew up.”

Lucy picked up a feather duster and flicked it over the top of her counter. “Have a nice day,” she said with cold indifference. Miranda figured she was probably regretting the two-hundred-dollar deal she’d made.

When all their chores had been accomplished and the cottage was stocked with food, Miranda felt too lazy to fix dinner. “How would you like to go to the River Café, Em?” she asked her daughter. “If I remember correctly, there’s an ice-cream store right next door.”

“I want to,” Emily said, reaching for her hairbrush. “I’m going to look nice in case we run into someone we know.”

“We only know a handful of people, Em, so I wouldn’t count on it.”

Emily began enumerating Holly River citizens on her fingers. “We know lots of people. Lucy, Lawton and Dale, and that policeman who talked about Daddy. We might see one of them.”

Miranda marveled at her daughter’s enthusiasm. There was one person on that list who brought an old familiar tremble to Miranda’s chest, and she certainly couldn’t admit to the rush of complicated feelings, even to herself.

* * *

THE RIVER CAFÉ was crowded this Friday evening. Tourists occupied the outside seating area, where they could enjoy the live entertainment. Tonight Carter’s younger brother, Jace, was strumming his guitar for Diana Melton, who could carry a sweet tune about as well as anyone in town. Tourists who wanted a quieter environment sat at the interior dining room tables. Holly River locals gathered at pub tables in the bar, where Carter had agreed to meet his friend Sam McCall after work. Carter glanced at his watch. Sam was late, so he ordered a beer and waited.

Sam came striding in a little after seven and settled on the other of the bar-height stools across from Carter. “Been waiting long?”

“Only as long as it takes to down one beer,” Carter said.

“You’re one ahead of me,” Sam said. He raised a finger to get the waitress’s attention and indicated he’d like two more brews brought to the table. Then he leaned across the table and said, “You see that waitress?”

“Yeah,” Carter said. “I ordered my first beer from her. Don’t think I’ve seen her in the café before, though.”

“She’s cute, don’t you think?”

“Sure. She’s cute.”

“Her name’s Allie and she’s new in town. She waited on me Wednesday night.”

Carter studied the waitress as she lingered at the bar for the bartender to fill the order. Pretty brown hair, a cute figure that showed to its full advantage in the River Café T-shirt. “So that’s why you wanted to come to this place,” Carter said.

“Good deduction. That’s why you’re the chief, Chief.”

Allie brought the drinks and set them on the table. “Hey, I remember you,” she said to Sam. “Wednesday night, right?”

Sam grinned in that easy, redheaded way a lot of Irish guys seemed blessed with at birth. Sam was the hottest bachelor in town. He attracted many local girls, but this was the first time Carter could remember his seriously returning the attention.

Sam leaned back, kept the grin in place and said, “Say, that’s a pretty ring you’re wearing.”

Allie held up both hands. “I’m not wearing a ring.”

Sam laughed. “I know you’re not. Works every time. It’s an old cop trick.”

She returned his smile with her own flirty grin. “Somehow you don’t seem like an old cop.”

Allie sauntered off to another table, and Carter just stared at his friend. “Could you be more obvious, Sam?”

“Sure could. Watch and learn, my friend. By the end of the night I’ll have her phone number and a few other vital statistics.”

Despite the troubling day Carter was having, he smiled. “I don’t doubt it.”

“What’s with the glum expression you were wearing when I got to the table, Carter? You seem down even for you. Something bothering you?”

Carter didn’t appreciate the unwarranted critique of his personality. He didn’t think he was a downer. He was just a guy who’d loved and lost not one woman, but two, and was working his way back up the emotional ladder. And despite that ladder appearing to reach into the clouds sometimes, Carter thought he was doing darn well. “Not especially,” he said.

“Then my guess is, this has something to do with an old girlfriend coming to town,” Sam said.

Carter settled back on his stool and shook his head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Who told you about that?”

“Betsy. She was practically bursting with the news. Says she remembers you and this Miranda gal from when you were both in high school.” Sam took a long sip of beer. “Kinda romantic if you ask me—two sweethearts meeting up again. Bet you were prom king and queen.”

Carter wasn’t about to admit that Sam was only half-right. Miranda had been beaten for the crown by a Winchester Ridge debutante. Carter’s dance with the queen had seemed like the longest of his life while Miranda stood on the side and watched.

“Who cares about all that high school stuff?” he said. “It’s all history.”

“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 year, 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.”