Honeysuckle Summer. Sherryl Woods

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      “Because I’ve been in this job for thirty years, and I saw the way you looked when you got back here yesterday afternoon,” she told him. “Your eyes were as dark as any storm cloud I ever saw. Spotted a few flashes of lightning in there, too.”

      “What did you expect? I found that boy blocks from home,” he said in his own defense. “Why wouldn’t I check to make sure someone’s keeping a closer eye on him today?”

      “I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but if you take every case to heart like this, you’ll burn out before you turn thirty, which as I recall is only a few months from now.”

      “I’m just riding around a neighborhood,” he told her. “I don’t think we need to worry about my mental health just yet. Call me if you need me.”

      “Will do,” she said. “By the way, Sarah Price has been singing your praises on the air this morning. I imagine you’re a real hero around town by now.”

      Carter wondered how she’d feel about him if he decided he had to take some kind of action against her babysitter, but he left that unsaid.

      A few minutes later, he was cruising past the little bungalow looking for any sign that something might be amiss this morning. He heard kids squealing with glee in the backyard and caught a glimpse of Tommy and his younger sister—Libby, as he recalled—swinging on a swing set, being pushed by someone unfamiliar. Not much more than a teenager, from the looks of it, but still it had to be an improvement over the alternative. For an instant, relief washed over him. Maybe Sarah Price had fired the irresponsible woman and hired someone new already. If so, his worries were over.

      Just as that thought crossed his mind, though, the back door swung open and the other woman called out, “Breakfast’s ready.” She turned her head, spotted him, and Carter swore he saw the blood drain out of her face. The screen door immediately slammed shut.

      He waited until the kids and the other woman went inside before driving off. He was more confused than ever now. The woman from the day before was still there, but what was her role beyond dressing up the scenery?

      Once again, she’d been wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse that he’d bet his entire month’s salary had cost a fortune. Thanks to Carrie and Mandy, who were obsessed with designer fashion, he recognized pricey clothes when he saw them. He’d spent too many hours listening to tearful pleas from his sisters for the latest jeans or fancy shoes. They didn’t seem to understand just how tight money was since their parents had died with little savings and only a minimum amount of life insurance. Added together, it had been barely enough to cover funeral expenses. He refused to touch the money they’d put aside for the girls’ college education. Instead, he tried to add a little to it each month, which further eroded the amount he had for basic expenses.

      Nor did Carrie or Mandy seem to care that he was woefully inept at the whole parenting role that had been thrust upon him at the age of twenty-seven. They rarely cut him a break of any kind, but that was another issue.

      Thinking about the boatload of responsibility that he’d struggled with for the past couple of years made him even more annoyed at how the babysitter had just let Tommy take off yesterday afternoon. If someone was going to take on the job of looking after someone else’s kids, then by gosh, they ought to be focused on it and not sitting around in the kitchen reading fashion magazines, or whatever, while the kids ran wild and put themselves in danger. He’d turned his life upside down to take care of Carrie and Mandy, hadn’t he?

      He still had half a mind to park the cruiser, barge inside and warn her that if her friend hadn’t been so nice, a child-negligence charge could have been brought against her. Maybe that would get her attention so she’d take the job seriously. Then, again, maybe watching the kids wasn’t her job. Maybe she was some flighty relative who was visiting temporarily. He realized he needed more evidence—scratch that, more information—before he put his job on the line by stirring up a ruckus.

      He decided to give the matter some more thought over an early lunch at Wharton’s, which made the only decent burger in town, and at a price he could afford on his paltry deputy’s salary. Most days, he made himself peanut butter and jelly or bologna sandwiches, same as he did for the girls.

      Half a dozen locals greeted him as he slid into the red vinyl booth. Mayor Lewis, whom he’d met making the rounds of local officials after taking the job, stopped by the table before he could even place his order.

      “Heard what happened with Sarah’s boy yesterday. Glad it turned out okay,” the mayor said. “Nice work.”

      “I got lucky. I spotted Tommy on the second street I canvassed,” Carter told him. He hesitated, then asked, “Mind telling me what you know about the woman who was supposed to be watching him?”

      The mayor blinked in apparent confusion, then nodded. “Oh, right. The babysitter’s just out of high school and working for Sarah until she goes off to college. Laurie Jenkins. She’s a good girl.”

      Carter shook his head. That must have been the woman he’d seen in the backyard this morning. “This was someone older, mid-twenties, I’d say, about the same age as Sarah.”

      Howard’s expression brightened. “Ah, you must mean Raylene.”

      “We didn’t meet, but I suppose that’s who it was. Tall, too thin, dark hair. Looks like she belongs in a fashion magazine.”

      “That’s Raylene, all right,” the mayor confirmed. “She and Sarah Price go way back. She’s tight with Annie Townsend, too. Have you met her? She’s married to Ty Townsend, a local boy who pitches for the Braves.”

      This wasn’t the first time Carter had noticed how much the mayor liked to talk once he got wound up. Usually the meandering chitchat got on his last nerve, but this time he found the topic fascinating. He waited for more, and Howard didn’t disappoint him.

      “Those three girls—Raylene, Annie and Sarah, that is—were best friends from about the time they could walk,” the mayor continued. “Never saw one without the other. Raylene was living over in Charleston for a while. Married a highfalutin doctor, as I recall. Then there was trouble of some kind and she came back here. She’s been stayin’ with Sarah ever since. Doesn’t get out much from what I hear.”

      “Is she actually living with them, then?” Carter asked, wondering why a woman who could afford that expensive wardrobe would be living in a little bungalow with a family that wasn’t her own. Maybe it had something to do with that trouble she’d been running from.

      “Far as I know, she’s there permanently.” Howard Lewis regarded him with curiosity. “Haven’t seen much of her, but she used to be a pretty little thing. You interested?”

      “Not a chance,” Carter said fiercely. “The only thing I care about is making sure she doesn’t let those kids go roaming around on their own again. Next time, things could turn out a whole lot worse.”

      Howard frowned at his somber tone. “You feel that strongly about it, maybe you should have a talk with Travis. He’s about to become their stepdad, and he just now walked in the door.” He beckoned the man in question over to the booth. “You two musta met yesterday. Travis McDonald, Carter Rollins.” He stepped aside and gestured for Travis to sit. “I’ll leave you both to your meals.”

      Presented with the opportunity, Carter laid out his concerns for the man seated opposite him. As he talked, though, Travis’s expression turned increasingly indignant.

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