North Country(121)

“Oh.” Not the calm and mature response I was expecting. “Yeah, well, the sooner they figure this out, the better.” And the sooner people stop looking at Logan for it. But if, God forbid, Jack has something to do with Holly’s death, it won’t matter that Logan’s cleared. Not for some people around here. He’ll be guilty by association, by bloodline.

And my days as detachment commander will certainly be coming to an end.

“I agree.” Dillon takes a deep breath. “You deserve to be happy, Emery. I really hope you can be.”

I frown at his sudden cordial attitude. “Are you dying?”

He chuckles. “No, I’m just … trying to look at things differently. You’re willing to risk your reputation for him. I guess that means something. There’s not much I can do to help you—”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Right. Well, have a good night. Tell Sarah good luck with the girls. They’ve gotta be due soon.”

I offer a delayed “I will,” and watch Dillon’s car crawl away, baffled. I expected him to be spewing threats and warnings. This was more unsettling .

Isla barrels out the door, having changed into her sweats. “Annie invited us for apple pie.”

I hum. Annie knows that’s Isla’s favorite.

And I know Annie bakes pies and texts people to come over to eat them when she’s stressed. It’s akin to sending up the Bat-Signal. I don’t blame her. With the warrant out to search Jack’s things, we’re all worried.

I fall into step beside Isla as we slog across the muddy, brown field in the waning light, our rubber boots sinking into the softening earth with each step. The days are growing long quickly again, the sun not setting until nearly eight p.m. The ice rink is long gone, the boards stacked in a barn, the tarp rolled up. It’s as if it were never there.

The warm months are ahead, waiting around the corner with their green grass and leafy trees and sunny summer days you can bask in. It’s the same feeling after every winter—you just need to get through this next stretch of cold drizzle while you wait for the earth to wake up, for the birds to sing in the morning once again, and the blooms to arrive.

Annie often scatters wildflower seeds in this narrow field between our houses, turning the patch into a jungle of black-eyed Susans and purple prairie clover. That’s what I’m looking forward to now, especially knowing Logan is waiting for me on the other side.

I hesitate, struggling how to broach the subject of Holly with my daughter. In the end, I decide on a safer topic. “Hey, does your dad seem a little off to you?”

“You mean, nicer?”

“Let the record show that I did not say that.” I’ve always tried my hardest to not bad-mouth Dillon in front of her. “He said I deserve to be happy. He’s never said that to me before.”

A secretive smile spreads across Isla’s face.

“What’s that for?”

“Last night, he told me that he knows there’s something going on between you and Logan.”

“Yeah, I guess the secret’s out.” I’ve felt the looks around the station and around town for weeks now. At first, I thought I was being paranoid or overly sensitive, but I’ve since seen several vague posts in the community’s Facebook group about the ethics and local law enforcement, and hints of a brewing scandal, and I can only assume I’m the scandal. People seem to think I’m actually breaking the law for loving Logan.

I’m sure Doug Freeman will be pleased to know that the head of Cold River’s police sleeping with the recently released dangerous Landry criminal is such a hot topic in the gossip circles. It’ll only help him with his efforts to get rid of me.

“Are you going to lose your job?” Isla asks.

“They can’t fire me for loving someone. But they can make it hard for me to want to stay.” I’ve seen it happen. Once your spiteful boss decides you don’t fit—for whatever reason, justified or not—they can make you very uncomfortable. Denied promotions, unpleasant tasks, blocking overtime, micromanaging your decisions. At that point, people start looking for a way out, a transfer to other detachments or assignments, sometimes hours away, relying on past relationships to put in a good word. I’m not moving anywhere—not because Doug Freeman wants me gone.

“So, you do love him?”

“I never stopped.”

Isla seems to ponder this. “You shouldn’t stay if they do that. It’s just a job.”

“Says the girl who’s never paid a bill in her life.” I soften the blow with a wink. “You don’t go into this line of work because it’s just a job. Not with everything we see and do.” I’ve learned to compartmentalize, but some of those calls still linger in the recesses of my mind. I’ll never shake them. “This is who I’ve been my whole adult life. It’s become a part of me. It’s my identity in a lot of ways.” That’s not an uncommon feeling. “But … you’re right. When I think about what really matters to me? It is just a job.” And maybe it’s time I started thinking about the next stage of my life.

Isla avoids a hole in the ground where an animal burrowed for the winter. “Dad asked me what I thought of Logan.”

“Yeah?” I hesitate. “What’d you tell him?”