High Country Cop. Cynthia Thomason

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       CHAPTER ONE

      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, СКАЧАТЬ