North Country(17)

“She took a stupid penalty, and it cost them the game.”

My body sinks with dismay. It’s a new team and the season’s just started. “For what?”

“Roughing.”

“Did she deserve it?”

He shrugs. “They didn’t need to call it.”

That’s his standard answer unless the roles are reversed and it’s his child pasted against the boards. “And her victim?”

“She was back on in the third. Laid it on thick if you ask me. Her parents were shouting for a suspension.”

I shake my head. People underestimate how physical girls’ hockey can get at this level. “She keeps it up and maybe she’ll get one soon enough.” Isla is usually good for a penalty every game.

“That’ll make it easier on me ’cause all this driving can’t be on our shoulders. Donna and I have Tanner’s schedule to think about too,” he throws back without missing a beat.

I inhale sharply. He may as well have called me a deadbeat parent. “Remember last year when you insisted we reach out to North Bay, and I said it was going to be a challenge?” Her home ice rink is now almost two hours away, which means a four-hour commute twice a week for practice, plus out-of-town games as far south as the outskirts of Toronto.

Dillon turns to face me, his hands on his hips. He’s always had a clean-cut, boyish look to him. Even at thirty-nine years old, he hasn’t changed much from the version I made a huge mistake with—twice. “I want our daughter to have the best opportunities available, which she can’t get around here. I thought you would want the same,” he says in that overly calm, condescending tone.

My teeth grind as I resist the urge to yell. “I can’t run a police detachment around my daughter’s hockey schedule.” I have no spouse to share the burden with, and my parents are gone.

“Yeah, run the detachment. Not sub in for your platoon sergeant’s weekend shifts. And you’re not the only one with an important job around here, Em. I’m the damn mayor! On top of owning the busiest grocery store!”

“Believe me, I know exactly who you are.” Besides a cheater and compulsive liar. And his parents own the store. “Neither of my two relief officers could cover it, so what else was I supposed to do? I’m trying to protect everyone on the shoestring budget you gave me.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He tips his head back with a dramatic groan. We’ve had this fight too many times. “I’m not out to get you. The council votes on the budget. It’s a team effort. What am I supposed to do? Tax residents more? If we don’t have the money, we don’t have the money. You have to manage accordingly. That’s part of the job.” He shrugs. “You’re dealing all right, aren’t you?”

“For now.” All we need is one big, messy death that could have been prevented had we gotten there in time, or a case that drains our resources. “Did you know PEC was shutting down?”

“Of course. I heard a few days ago.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why would I?” He scoffs. “I don’t report to you.”

“Because one of those people who lost their job is an angry, drunk giant with a history of violence, and he’s currently in my holding cell.”

Dillon falters, his bluster fading. “What happened?” Despite being a dick, he does actually care about the people in this town.

With a sigh, I fill him in on the day’s event.

“Well … it sounds like you got it under control.”

“Yes, but it could have gone an entirely different way.” I gave Matt grief, but I should have given him a hug.

“Look. I don’t have the energy to fight with you tonight.” Dillon lifts his hands. “And speaking of giving a heads-up, what about the violent, cop-killing criminal who just got released and is living right over there?” He points to the Landry ranch. “When were you going to tell me about that?”

I knew Dillon would hear about Logan’s return soon enough, and he wouldn’t be happy about it. He hasn’t been a fan since Logan punched him in high school for cheating on me—the first time .

“Why would I do that? I don’t report to you,” I parrot his earlier words. “And he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Great, you’re still defending him.” Dillon tsks. “Not a smart move.”

“I’m not defending him. I don’t want misinformation spread around.”

“You have a daughter, Emery. A beautiful teenage girl living next door to a guy who’s been locked up for how long?” His eyebrows arch with meaning. “You’re not at all worried?”

“Good God! He’s not a pedophile!” I scoff.

“A criminal’s a criminal. For someone in your position, I thought you’d know that much.”

I knew this wasn’t going to go well. “Logan’s been out for twenty-four hours. Leave the guy and his poor family alone.”

“I have nothing against Holt and Annie, or Sarah and Jon. They’re good members of the community.”

I snort. “Really? Why do you keep whining about them, then?” Who wants to buy our vegetables when Landry’s is open? I can’t tell which burns him more—the popularity of their farmer’s market or the fact that his own daughter would rather work there than at his family’s store.