FIVE

“I hate to say this, but it might be too cold for a firepit night.” Meredith had started the evening in her warmest coat, gloves, toboggan, and lined boots. But even though the fire Mo had built was reaching bonfire proportions, she was twirling around like a rotisserie chicken to stay warm. “I’m going inside to get a quilt.”

“Me too.” Cassie jumped up from where she’d been sitting on her fiancé’s lap and ran to her own house.

“Hurry up!” Donovan called out. “You were keeping me warm.”

Meredith paused at the door to her tiny house and looked back at the firepit where Donovan sat talking to Cal and Mo while Landry, Cal’s wife, roasted a marshmallow for their daughter, Eliza.

Things changed. And this change was good.

Meredith, Mo, and Cal had built their tiny house compound a few years earlier. They all owned adjoining land, gifted to them on their twenty-fifth birthday—a rite of passage for the Quinn grandchildren and now great-grandchildren.

Given that they were all single at the time, it made more sense to build small homes. The hope, though no one had voiced it, was that eventually they would all find spouses and build their forever homes. The tiny houses had been meant to be temporary.

So far, Cal was the only one who’d found the love of his life. He and Landry moved into their home on Cal’s land last July. The house was less than a quarter of a mile from the tiny houses. During the winter, when the trees were bare, you could see their porch from the firepit.

Since Cassie had needed a temporary place to live, Cal had offered his tiny house to her until she and Donovan married. They would eventually build on Cassie’s land, but they weren’t in a hurry.

Cassie’s addition to their little compound had been a good fit for all of them. And this past summer, Mo and Cal had demolished the original firepit and expanded it. Where once there had been three permanent chairs, now there were eight.

The sound of an engine caught her attention, and the sight of Gray’s Explorer sent Meredith running inside her house. She’d had a long day and it wouldn’t hurt to touch up her makeup and run a brush through her hair before she went back out.

Ten minutes later, wrapped in an old quilt and carrying two others, she rejoined the group, which now included Gray and Bronwyn Pierce.

“You came!” She hugged Bronwyn and handed her a quilt, then turned to Gray. “Would you like one? I told Mo it was too cold. His answer was to throw more wood on the fire.”

Gray took the quilt and pointed at Cal. “I told you it was too cold.”

“It’s never too cold.” Mo and Cal spoke in unison, and the whole group burst into laughter.

They chatted for another ten minutes before Landry stood and pulled Eliza up with her. “We’re going to head home.” She gave Cal a kiss that probably was intended to be a short peck but turned into something more. When she pulled back, she whispered something to him and he grinned.

“Disgusting.” Bronwyn blew on her hot chocolate. “And yes, I’m a bitter old harpy.”

Landry laughed at Bronwyn’s insincere griping. “See you tomorrow.” She hugged Meredith, then Bronwyn. “Don’t stay out too late. You have a busy day.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bronwyn truly sounded disgruntled now, and Landry gave her another hug. “You’ve got this. I’ll be praying.”

“Thanks.”

They weren’t trying to keep their voices low, so Meredith had no guilt about asking, “What’s tomorrow?”

Meredith caught the way Mo watched Bronwyn with a look that gave her the courage to keep hoping for a reconciliation between her brother and her best friend.

Bronwyn groaned. “A board meeting.”

Everyone around the fire groaned with her. Even Eliza.

“Aunt Bronwyn hates board meetings,” Eliza informed them. “She says they’re the worst way to waste a day.”

Bronwyn wasn’t Eliza’s aunt by blood or by marriage, but once Eliza realized that she now had a huge family that included lots of aunts and uncles, she immediately put Bronwyn into the same category.

Bronwyn grinned at the little girl with all the affection and adoration a doting aunt could have. “You got that right, sweetheart. Now come give me a hug and let your mama take you home and get you warmed up.”

No one brought up the board meeting again until Landry and Eliza waved their flashlight from the large wraparound porch of their home.

Landry would settle Eliza into bed and then come back out with a monitor. Assuming they hadn’t all frozen to death by the time the bedtime routine was over.

“Board meeting?” Cal directed the question to Bronwyn, who’d taken her usual seat. “They giving you trouble?”

The “they” in question was a faction of the Pierce family who didn’t approve of Bronwyn’s leadership. They were the same faction who insisted that Steven Pierce was innocent of all charges, even though Cassie had heard his voice and they had other witnesses and tons of evidence regarding his role in her abduction.

“When are they not giving me trouble?” There was a weariness in Bronwyn’s voice that was new. “It will be fine. My side of the family supports me, and we have the majority stake. But I can’t shake the feeling that they are up to something.”

“A hostile takeover?” Gray’s question gave Meredith the excuse she needed to look at him again. He looked tired too. And worried. There was a line between his eyes that she had an urge to smooth out with her fingertip.

“Maybe? After what Steven did? I wouldn’t put anything past them. I have to go into every meeting armed to the teeth.”

“Literally?” Gray’s eyebrow did that thing it did, and Meredith couldn’t quite tell if he was concerned or merely curious.

“Literally.” Bronwyn wasn’t joking. “Don’t worry, Chief. I have my concealed carry permit.”

“I know you do.” Gray wasn’t joking either. The tension around the firepit had spiked higher than the flames. “Want some backup? I’m sure Donovan wouldn’t mind hanging out in Hideaway with Cassie if you want someone close.”

Hideaway, the fine dining restaurant at The Haven, was Cassie’s domain. And Meredith was sure Gray was right about Donovan’s willingness to spend time with her.

“I’ll be there too.” Mo’s deep rumble came from the other side of the firepit. “You won’t mind my company, will you, Cassie?”

Bronwyn looked at her mug, and Meredith blinked back tears. Mo and Bronwyn’s relationship was so complicated it made quantum physics look straightforward. To Meredith’s knowledge, the two had still somehow managed not to speak directly to each other in ... over a decade? It had been a very, very long time.

Cassie, bless her, piped up, “Mo! You know you’re one of my favorite cousins.” She winked at Meredith as she said this. “Of course you can come.”

“One of?” Mo’s voice was almost a purr. “It’s okay, Cass. I know you don’t want to hurt their feelings by telling the truth, but we all know I am the favorite.”

During the not-really-heated exchange that followed as Cal made his case for favorite cousin status, Meredith saw the moment when Gray made eye contact with Donovan. There was a chin lift and a nod, and she knew Donovan would be in Hideaway tomorrow during the board meeting. And if Mo said he would be there, he would.

She leaned over and patted Bronwyn’s hand. “We’ve got your back.”

“So it would seem.” Bronwyn gave her a small smile and leaned back into her chair. It was like she was trying to hide in plain sight, and Meredith’s heart hurt for her friend. So she did what she could.

She clapped her gloved hands together, and while they made almost no sound at all, the motion directed everyone’s attention to her. “I hate to be the one to cut this frivolity short, but I’m freezing to death. Cal? I’m assuming there’s a reason you wanted us all out here tonight?”

Cal propped his feet on the stone wall around the fire. “Yeah. I think it’s high time you told us what you know or think you know about Chief Kirby and the mess going on in Neeson.”

Gray sat straighter as Meredith stared at Cal. Her mouth was open in a little “O” of surprise, but she didn’t say anything.

“I know you don’t want to gossip or slander. And that’s admirable. I love that about you. You’re gentle and kind, even with people who don’t deserve your favor. But, Mer, someone cut your fuel line today. It’s time to share with the class what you know, think you know, might know, or might maybe possibly kinda sorta suspect.” Cal pointed to Gray. “He’s doing everything he can to keep you safe.” He pointed to Mo. “So is he. So am I.” He waved his hand around the circle. “Everyone here will protect you to the best of our ability, but you have to give us something to go on.”

Meredith dropped her head, and Bronwyn leaned toward her. “He’s right, you know.”

Meredith looked up and her gaze snagged Gray’s. “Did you know this was what he wanted tonight?” There was pain in the question and a hint of betrayal in her expression.

“No clue. He told me we needed to talk and that I should come over tonight. It was all very cryptic.”

Her entire body relaxed at his words, and Gray wondered if she had any idea how expressive she was. She should never, ever play poker. Or go undercover.

It was a miracle she’d gone this long without sharing what she knew about Kirby. At the risk of bringing her ire down on him, he kept going. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Cal.”

Before she could respond, Mo chimed in, “So do I.”

Donovan, not to be left out, said, “Same.”

Cassie and Bronwyn shared a look, and Bronwyn said, “I’m all for the sisterhood and everything, but I’m with the guys on this one.”

Landry rejoined them and flopped into her seat beside Cal. “Are we making Meredith spill?”

Cassie said, “I believe so.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Landry grinned at Meredith. “You know I love you, but you’re stressing us out.”

Meredith’s shoulders dropped and she said, “Fine,” with the same attitude a teenager might use on their parents. But when she spoke again, her voice was clear and held a confidence and concern that told Gray she’d spent a lot of time thinking and processing what she was sharing. “I first noticed something was weird in Neeson on my third trip. My schedule has me in the county three times a year. The first time I’d been there had been in April. But it was December this time, and it was bitterly cold.”

She scooted closer to the fire and took a sip of her drink. “You know how kids are. Teenage boys will wear shorts and a hoodie no matter how cold it is. And I’m not like Mrs. Flanders.”

Bronwyn, Cal, Mo, and Cassie all laughed. Gray looked at Donovan and Landry, and the three of them shared the same look. The one that said, “I have no idea what’s so funny.”

Meredith caught his eye and reined in her laughter enough to explain. “Mrs. Flanders is about eighty now. But when we”—she waved her hands to include her cousins and brother—“were younger, she was the town librarian.”

Mo threw back his head and laughed louder than Gray had ever seen him. “Do you remember?” That was all he got out before he doubled over laughing again. Cal joined him and then, to Gray’s shock, Bronwyn laughed so hard she snorted.

Bronwyn and Mo shared a look while they were laughing, and while Gray didn’t claim to have a romantic bone in his body, even he could feel the sparks and tension coming off those two.

Meredith again pulled it together first. “Mrs. Flanders had been widowed about three months after she got married. She wasn’t really that old, but when we were little, we thought she was ancient. She would be so mad when we came in without a coat. She’d say, ‘You’re gonna catch your death’ and ‘I know your mother can afford to take better care of you’ and, my personal favorite, ‘I’m going to have a chat with Catherine about this.’”

Mo wiped his eyes. “She had so many chats with Granny. I never understood why Granny didn’t tell her to shove off.”

Meredith put her hand on her chest and widened her eyes in obviously mock outrage. “Granny would never.”

Landry scooted to the end of her chair. “What did y’all do to this poor woman?”

Bronwyn raised her hand. “To be fair, it wasn’t Meredith or Cal.”

Mo looked to the stars, and his entire body shook with the laughter he still hadn’t gotten under control. “It was my idea. Bronwyn was a little bitty thing. And we were sure she’d fit.”

Fit?

“The book drop slot was a lot bigger than it is now. We’d seen it on a tour our class took of the library. It was more of a chute. Like a slide.” Bronwyn held out her hands. “I mean, it was just begging for someone to try it.”

“You went down the book return?” Donovan’s question held all the same surprise that Gray was feeling. It was hard to imagine the normally cool and professional Bronwyn Pierce as a little hooligan terrorizing the librarian.

“I tried to.”

Mo still didn’t have complete control of his laughter. “I got down on the floor on my hands and knees. She climbed onto my back and put her arms and head in. Then I tried to push her the rest of the way through by her feet.”

Meredith and Cal both howled at his words.

“There were so many books in the bottom that I couldn’t squeeze my entire body into the bin.” Bronwyn wiped at her eyes. “And the chute was too narrow for me to pull my legs up.”

Meredith managed to speak in between bouts of giggles. “We came around the corner, and all we saw was Mo standing beside the book return and Bronwyn’s feet kicking.”

Cal picked up the tale. “And that’s when Mrs. Flanders caught us.”

“What happened?” Landry and Donovan asked at the same time.

The four miscreants were all laughing so hard they couldn’t answer. Cassie spoke up. “You have to understand that this story is a family legend. I’ve heard it my entire life. Mrs. Flanders panicked and started screaming. Aunt Carol was in the nonfiction section and came running because she thought someone was hurt. She gets the story from Mo, calls into the chute, and hears Bronwyn insisting that she’s fine, just stuck. She turns to Mrs. Flanders and says, ‘For crying out loud, Janet. Pull yourself together and go get the child out of the book return.’ But Mrs. Flanders is frozen. So Aunt Carol goes into the office area where the book bin is and extracts Bronwyn from the chute. By this time, Mrs. Flanders has stopped screaming, but she’s furious and she tells them to leave and never come back.” Cassie took a breath. “The story goes that Aunt Carol took all four of them out for ice cream after.”

“Mom told me later that she thought the whole thing was hilarious. Especially because it was Beep that went down the chute. She would have expected it of me or you”—Cal pointed to himself and then Meredith—“but never Mo and Bronwyn.”

It took a couple of minutes for the laughter to turn to chuckles and then to random huffs of amusement.

“Anyway,” Meredith said once she was fully in control, “Mrs. Flanders never had children, but she had a lot of opinions about children. No one could make her understand that kids don’t like to wear coats. That if they’re cold, they will put one on. And that they won’t get sick from walking from the car to the library without a jacket.”

She pointed to herself. “As the favorite aunt of many delightful children, I’m not like Mrs. Flanders. I don’t judge the moms when the kids walk into my office wearing nothing more than a sweater. To be honest, I’m more likely to judge if they come in covered up in a scarf, toboggan, and puffy jacket when it’s not that cold outside. It’s not safe for kids to be in car seats when they’re all bundled up like that. And it’s inefficient to expect them to put on that many layers to walk fifty feet.”

Gray had to remind himself that a toboggan in North Carolina wasn’t the same thing as a toboggan in Chicago. He didn’t know why they didn’t just call it a hat. Or a knit cap. Both of which were shorter than saying toboggan. And less confusing. But now wasn’t the time to bring it up, because all the humor drained from Meredith’s face as she continued to speak.

“It’s different in Neeson. When I do the clinic up there, I park in a church lot. They let me hook up to their power and water. They typically open the building, but they don’t turn the heat or A/C on.”

“Why not?”

Gray knew the answer to Cassie’s innocent question, but he wondered how Meredith would answer it. “Part of it is ignorance. They think they’re doing a good deed by giving me access to the water and power, and they are. But they mainly open the building so I have access to the bathroom. The people who come to the clinic don’t go to their church. The pastor knows Papa and Uncle John, and they asked the pastor there if I could have access to the building. I think in the minds of the people in the church, they’re already going above and beyond.”

“That’s dumb.”

Gray gave Cassie an air fist bump. She wasn’t wrong.

“They don’t really see the people who are coming to my clinic. I mean, they think what I’m doing is great. They’re in favor of it. But that doesn’t mean they trust the riff-raff in their building. So they won’t make it convenient or comfortable for them. Even when it’s blazing hot or freezing cold.”

Meredith gave Cassie a sad smile. “It’s entitled and completely not what Christianity is about, but I’m playing a long game. That church parking lot is the best spot in Neeson for me to set up. There’s plenty of room. Easy access to the water and power. They have bathrooms. And even the criminal element in town would hesitate before coming after me on church property. It’s the safest spot in town. And every time I go, I pray for their hearts to soften.”

Meredith propped her feet up on the firepit edge. “The problem is that their concerns are valid. I didn’t realize it at first. I thought it was just snobbery and elitism and a holier-than-thou attitude. And it is some of that. But it’s also prudence. I do see adults, but I’d say seventy-five percent of my patients are children and teenagers, and I’ve discovered that their parents aren’t always upstanding citizens.”

It required an intense effort for Gray to keep from making a comment on Meredith’s understatement.

Donovan either didn’t succeed or didn’t try. “I think when you said they aren’t upstanding citizens, what you meant is they’re drug-running hardened criminals.”

Cal and Mo had gone from relaxed and laughing to serious and alert.

“I wish you were wrong.” Meredith looked into the fire. “The parents ... I know they’re up to no good. But the kids? They’re adorable. Chubby cheeks. Funny stories.”

When she didn’t seem inclined to continue, Mo asked, “What kind of stories?”

“Oh, you know.” Meredith wiped at her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was high and childish. “My dog got into the shed last night. I think he heard something, but Daddy said it was just an animal. But he ran out of the shed with a sock! A purple sock! I think he might be magic because I don’t have any purple socks.”

Gray expected her to stop, but she didn’t.

Meredith’s voice shifted to that of a young boy. “My daddy has two jobs. He works at the jail. But he also has a special kitchen in our barn. I’m not allowed to go in there, but he goes in there a lot. He said he’s perfecting a recipe. And sometimes people come buy his special treats late at night.”

It was like someone had opened the floodgates because, this time, her voice had changed, and she was a frightened girl. “I don’t know how that happened, Dr. Quinn. I’m just clumsy. I bruise super easy so I don’t know...”

Meredith—his sweet, funny, innocent Meredith—looked around the circle of people who now stared at her, their faces a mix of horror and worry. And when she spoke, her voice was harder than he’d ever heard it. Angry in a way that he hadn’t known she was capable of. “Those stories? Those came from children who have fathers in law enforcement. There’s at least one officer who’s physically abusing his family. One is cooking meth. And I don’t even want to think about the purple sock. Best-case scenario? He’s having an affair. Worst case? Trafficking—drugs and people.”