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High Country Cop
Cynthia Thomason
He’ll always love Miranda Jefferson…But this cop has a job to do.Seeing his high school sweetheart after fourteen years fills Holly River police chief Carter Cahill with so many conflicting emotions. One thing hasn’t changed—the love that brought them together in the first place. But the single mother’s asking something Carter isn’t sure he can give. Is he a man who follows the law… or his heart?
He’ll always love Miranda Jefferson...
But this cop has a job to do.
Seeing his high school sweetheart after fourteen years fills Holly River police chief Carter Cahill with so many conflicting emotions. One thing hasn’t changed—the love that brought them together in the first place. But the single mother’s asking something Carter isn’t sure he can give. Is he a man who follows the law...or his heart?
CYNTHIA THOMASON inherited her love of writing from her ancestors. Her father and grandmother both loved to write, and she aspired to continue the legacy. Cynthia studied English and journalism in college, and after a career as a high school English teacher, she began writing novels. She discovered ideas for stories while searching through antiques stores and flea markets and as an auctioneer and estate buyer. Cynthia says every cast-off item from someone’s life can ignite the idea for a plot. She writes about small towns, big hearts and happy endings that are earned and not taken for granted. And as far as the legacy is concerned, just ask her son, the magazine journalist, if he believes.
Also By Cynthia Thomason (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6)
Rescued by Mr. Wrong
The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers
A Boy to Remember
Firefly Nights
This Hero for Hire
A Soldier’s Promise
Blue Ridge Autumn
Marriage for Keeps
Dilemma at Bayberry Cove
His Most Important Win
The Men of Thorne Island
Your House or Mine?
An Unlikely Match
An Unlikely Father
An Unlikely Family
Deal Me In
Return of the Wild Son
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
High Country Cop
Cynthia Thomason
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08089-7
HIGH COUNTRY COP
© 2018 Cynthia Thomason
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“You’re a good man. You’ve always been a...”
Carter stopped her by lowering his head to stare at the floor. For one life-changing moment he considered what he was about to do, and then he cast aside his doubts. Her eyes met his, moist and bright, and he pressed his lips to hers. The years separating them melted away as he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. The contact seemed to last for a blissful eternity and yet was over in an instant.
He dropped his hands, backed away. He felt her breath on his mouth, still warm from their kiss.
“Oh, Carter...” she whispered. She splayed her palm against his chest, her lips parted. He was certain she could feel the racing of his heart.
He blinked hard, swallowed. “This is crazy, Miranda. We can’t do this.”
Dear Reader (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6),
Places of the heart.
We all have them, and they are different for all of us. But they stir us, comfort us and always call us back. I have been returning every summer to my place of the heart, the high country of North Carolina, three counties of majestic beauty and unrivaled thrills in the highest mountains of the Blue Ridge Parkway.
It was only natural that I would set a trilogy of stories in this unequaled land of forests and mountaintops. This is the debut book of the series, The Cahills of North Carolina. The title is High Country Cop, and it is the story of Carter Cahill, chief of police in the small town of Holly River. I hope you enjoy reading about Carter’s journey to true love, and I hope you take a moment to think of the place of your heart. Look for Jace Cahill’s story next, and following that one, Ava Cahill’s.
Happy reading,
Cynthia
PS: I love hearing from readers. You can contact me at cynthoma@aol.com.
This book is dedicated to all the small-town cops who do so much more for their communities than just enforce the law. And a special thank-you to the folks at Sugar Plum Farms in Plum Tree, North Carolina, for all their advice on growing those magnificent Fraser firs. Any mistakes are mine and not theirs.
Contents
Cover (#u3608bb49-8c1e-57aa-9aae-eb035dd68bc7)
Back Cover Text (#u3e3e9206-6134-5429-904a-4923de1a09cb)
About the Author (#uf6b4e857-36d9-5585-8258-ebaf09a3ebbe)
Booklist (#u3f535967-eb14-599c-856a-766792c48b2a)
Title Page (#u2a89778b-f80d-5af6-82f0-ccd44e64a362)
Copyright (#u70d9084e-b333-59b5-a885-c90854e83708)
Introduction (#u76f0b0c1-ccc3-5cc4-9909-1ada5c36a533)
Dear Reader (#ua692ef56-1fde-5e41-9082-73c1fedd8e66)
Dedication (#u15e238a5-a4c9-56a5-9238-f2d55dc96b0b)
CHAPTER ONE (#u359d637b-534a-5776-9e27-01af9313105e)
CHAPTER TWO (#ua8def977-644c-53b3-b369-73965babb607)
CHAPTER THREE (#u922f2dcd-e199-5bd4-9582-fad68065096a)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u62ffbeb8-1b17-5af4-87a8-fc098edcdc6c)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ub879d019-83e1-5b78-b32f-4b6a8dbaf3e8)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uf4ca49ed-9216-5b3e-82c9-4b7707cb10e6)
CHIEF OF POLICE Carter Cahill was working the ten-to-six shift in Holly River, North Carolina, on this Friday. Since he had some extra time in the morning, he’d driven the patrol car out to Hidden Creek Road and stopped in to do some chores for his widowed mother. Carter or his younger brother, Jace, stopped by the family home at least once a week to help Cora with her to-do list.
Satisfied that the leaky pipe under the kitchen sink was fixed, Carter headed back to town, the place he’d called home his entire life. When his cell phone rang, and he recognized the number of the police station, he initiated the car speaker. “This is Carter. What is it, Betsy?” he asked his dispatcher.
“Just got a call from a witness who said he could shed some light on last night’s break-in at the hardware store, Carter.”
“What did he say?”
“That he saw Dale Jefferson’s old Jeep in the alley behind the store at the approximate time of the robbery.”
Carter wasn’t surprised. Whenever a crime was committed in Holly River, Dale’s name was usually suggested as the perpetrator, or at least as someone who could provide information. In all fairness, if Dale was guilty of even 20 percent of the crimes he’d been accused of, Carter didn’t know when he’d have time to eat or sleep. Dale was adept at not getting caught. He’d served only a handful of short stints in the county lockup though he’d been accused of everything from public intoxication to stealing grapes from the supermarket.
“Who is the witness?” Carter asked Betsy.
“Mitch Calloway.”
“Great, another call from Mitch. Maybe someday he’ll get over the fact that Dale stole a few chickens from his coop and quit associating the guy with every minor crime in Holly River.”
Betsy chuckled. “It’s no secret that Mitch, and most everybody else in town, would like to see Dale locked up for good, but you’re going to investigate anyway, aren’t you?”
“Of course. Since I’m so close to the station, I’ll stop on my way and see who’s on duty today. I doubt I’ll have any trouble at the Jefferson place, but it never hurts to know who my backup is.”
He drove the last few blocks of downtown Holly River, an area that was familiar and comforting to Carter. The town consisted of quaint streets, a few mom-and-pop restaurants and shops, churches and a small college. There was one traffic light in the middle of everything, which was conveniently located between the police station and his brother’s mountain adventure business, High Mountain Rafting. Carter noticed Jace’s SUV in the parking lot of High Mountain and figured Jace was preparing for the day’s first white-water trip. In view was Sawtooth Mountain, the highest peak in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Once he determined that Sam McCall, the department’s newest rookie and Carter’s friend, was his backup, Carter left the station and headed out in the direction of Laurel Hollow Road, where the Jefferson clan had lived for decades. The fifteen-minute drive to Liggett Mountain would take Carter from the charming ambiance of sleepy Holly River to the run-down shabbiness of the cabins outside town. This was the part of the county the tourists never saw and the part where few residents ever managed to escape their poverty.
He smiled when he remembered Betsy’s warning when he’d left. “You take care, Carter,” she’d said. She was almost like a favorite aunt and never failed to issue similar warnings to all of Holly River’s eight officers.
Soon the terraced, manicured lawns of Holly River’s more prosperous residents gave way to the scrub and unkempt forested areas of the folks who couldn’t afford gardeners, HOA bills or even ride-on lawnmowers. Some of the lawns, if a guy could even call them that, hadn’t been tended in years and had been taken over by rocks and dry, sandy soil.
An old tire with a weary-looking mailbox post sprouting from its center marked the Jefferson cabin, the one Dale’s parents had left to their oldest son—the one where the younger brother, Lawton, lived now after getting out of prison. Lawton hadn’t been as lucky as his older brother. He’d been caught red-handed spray painting the mayor’s BMW. That might not have landed him in the state penitentiary, but the twenty pounds of freshly manufactured methamphetamine next to the illegal firearm in the trunk of his old Buick did—for eight years.
