Chapter 1
The town of Antietam was a pretty sight in late spring. Sheriff Devin MacKade liked to walk the uneven sidewalks and smell the freshly mowed grass, the flowers, hear the yip of dogs and shouts of children.
He liked to take in the order of it, the continuity, and the little changes. Outside the bank, a bed of pink begonias was spreading. The three cars jockeying in line at the drive-in window constituted a traffic jam.
Down a little ways, in front of the post office, there were men passing the time, taking the air. Through the barbershop window, he could see a toddler experiencing his first haircut, while his mother bit her nails and blinked damp eyes.
The banners were flying for the annual Memorial Day parade and picnic. He could see several people busily scrubbing or painting their porches in preparation for the event.
It was an event he enjoyed, even with its logistical and traffic headaches. He liked the continuity of it, the predictability. The way people would plant themselves with their folding chairs and coolers along the curb, hours before parade time, to ensure that they would have a good view of the marching bands and twirling batons.
Most of all, he liked the way the townspeople threw themselves into that weekend, how much they cared, how strong their pride.
His father had told him of the ancient man who, when he himself was a little boy, had walked creakily down Main Street wearing Confederate gray at an earlier Memorial Day. One of the last living testaments to the Civil War.
Dead now, as they all were, Devin mused as he glanced over at the memorial in the town's square. Dead, but not and never forgotten. At least not in little towns such as these, which had once known the sound of mortar and rifle fire and the terrible cries of the wounded.
Turning away, he looked down the street and sighed. There was Mrs. Metz's Buick, parked, as usual, in the red zone. He could give her a ticket, Devin mused, and she would pay it. But when she lumbered into his office to hand over the fine, she would also treat him to a lecture. He blew out a breath, studied the door of the library. No doubt that was where she was, gossiping over the counter with Sarah Jane Poffenberger.
Devin drew together his courage and fortitude and climbed the old stone steps.
She was exactly where he'd expected her to be, leaning over the counter, a mountain of paperback novels at her dimpled elbow, deep into the latest dirt with the librarian. Devin wondered why any woman so... generously sized insisted on wearing wildly patterned dresses.
'Mrs. Metz.' He kept his voice low. He'd been tossed out of the library many times in his youth by Miss Sarah Jane.
'Well, hello there, Devin.' Beaming a smile, Mrs. Metz turned to him. Her elbow nearly toppled the mountain of books, but Miss Sarah Jane, for all her resemblance to an understuffed scarecrow, moved fast. 'And how are you on this beautiful afternoon?'
'I'm just fine. Hello, Miss Sarah Jane.'
'Devin.' Iron gray hair pulled back from paper-thin white skin, starched collar buttoned firmly to her chin, Sarah Jane nodded regally. 'Did you come in to return that copy of
'No, ma'am.' He very nearly flushed. He'd lost the damn book twenty years before, he'd paid for it, he'd even swept the library for a month as penance for his carelessness. Now, though he was a man—one who wore a badge and was considered responsible by most—he was shriveled down to a boy by Sarah Jane Poffenberger's steely eyes.
'A book is a treasure,' she said, as she always did.
'Yes, ma'am. Ah, Mrs. Metz...' More to save himself now than to uphold parking laws, he shifted his gaze. 'You're parked illegally. Again.'
'I am?' All innocence, she fluttered at him. 'Why, I don't know how that happened, Devin. I would have sworn I pulled into the right place. I just came in to check out a few books. I'd have walked, but I had to run into the city, and stopped by on my way home. Reading's one of God's gifts, isn't it, Sarah Jane?'
'It is indeed.' Though her mouth remained solemn, the dark eyes in Sarah Jane's wrinkled face were laughing. Devin had to concentrate on not shuffling his feet.
'You're in the red zone, Mrs. Metz.'
'Oh, dear. You didn't give me a ticket, did you?'
'Not yet,' Devin muttered.
'Because Mr. Metz gets all huffy when I get a ticket. And I've only been here for a minute or two, isn't that right, Sarah Jane.'
'Just a minute or two,' Sarah Jane confirmed, but she winked at Devin.
'If you'd move your car—'
'I'll do that. I surely will. Just as soon as I check out these books. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have my books, what with the way Mr. Metz watches the TV. You check these out for me, Sarah Jane, while Devin tells us how his family's doing.'
He knew when he was outgunned. After all, he was a cop. 'They're fine.'
'And those sweet little babies. Imagine two of your brothers having babies within months of each other. I just have to get over to see them all.'
'The babies are fine, too.' He softened at the thought of them. 'Growing.'
'Oh, they do grow, don't they, Sarah Jane? Grow like weeds, before you can stop them. Now you've got yourself a nephew and a niece.'
'Two nephews and a niece,' Devin reminded her, adding Jared's wife Savannah's son, Bryan.
'Yes, indeed. Give you any ideas about starting your own brood?'
Her eyes were glittering at the thought of getting the inside story on future events. Devin stood his ground. 'Being an uncle suits me.' Without a qualm, he tossed his sister-in-law to the wolves. 'Regan has little Nate with her at the shop today. I saw him a couple hours ago.
'Does she?'
'She mentioned Savannah might be coming by, with Layla.'
'Oh, my! Well...' Being able to corner both MacKade women, and their babies, was such a coup, Mrs. Metz nearly trembled with the idea. 'Hurry on up there, Sarah Jane. I've got errands to run.'
'Hold your horses now, I've got 'em for you right here.' Sarah Jane handed over the canvas bag Mrs. Metz had brought it, now pregnant with books. Moments later, when Mrs. Metz puffed her way out, Sarah Jane smiled. 'You're a smart boy, Devin. Always were.'
'If Regan finds out I headed her over there, she'll skin me.' He grinned. 'But a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Nice seeing you, Miss Sarah Jane.'
You find that copy of
He winced as he opened the door. 'Yes, ma'am.'
For all her bulk, Mrs. Metz moved quickly. She was already pulling out of the red zone and into the sparse traffic. Congratulating himself on a job well done, Devin told himself he could take a quick ride down to the MacKade Inn.
Just needed to check and make sure there wasn't anything that needed his attention, he told himself as he walked up the street to his cruiser. It was his brother Rafe's place, after all. It was his duty to check on it now and again.
The fact that Cassie Dolin managed the bed-and-breakfast and lived on the third floor with her two children had nothing to do with it.
He was just doing his job.
Which was, he thought as he slipped behind the wheel of his car, a huge and ridiculous lie.
He was, however, doing what he had to do. Which was to see her. At least once a day, he simply had to see her. He just had to, no matter how much it hurt, or how careful he had to be. More careful, he reminded himself, now that she was divorced from that bastard who had beaten and abused her for years.
Joe Dolin was in prison, Devin thought with grim satisfaction as he headed out of town. And he would be there for quite some time to come.
