Appalachian Prey

The hell? It may have been years since she’d lived in Lavender Mountain, but Smithers’s lip curl of disgust when she said Tedders slashed through time. Once again, Lilah was young and facing the taunts of schoolchildren or braving the slights of classmates who never came to her birthday parties. No parent wanted their child hanging out with the likes of Lilah and her family.

“Get out of my way,” she said coldly.

“I’m betting it isn’t. Good thing we have paternity tests these days. Keeps riffraff like you from tying down a decent man who—no doubt—will insist on doing the right thing. Either marriage or child support for the next eighteen years.”

Jolene’s words splattered like acid on Lilah’s heart. That much was true. Harlan would insist on doing right by her. But what kind of life would that be—knowing she’d unwittingly trapped him into marriage? He couldn’t know the truth.

“And what about his career?” Jolene continued. “He’d be the laughing stock of this county, running for sheriff after a shotgun wedding to a Tedder.”

She’d had enough. Lilah went around Jolene and flung open the restroom’s door before delivering her parting shot as she stepped into the lobby. “It’s not his baby. Okay? You happy now?”

Whipping her head back around, she faced a tall uniformed column of stubborn human male.

Harlan.

His feet were planted less than six feet from the doorway and his face was set like carved granite.

How much had he heard? He couldn’t have missed her saying the baby wasn’t his. Lilah lowered her head and walked quickly to the door. She’d come by to tell him she was pregnant with his child, but maybe it was best this way.

So why was she near tears? If he had ever loved her, that love hadn’t been enough to erase the stigma of her name. Believing she was pregnant by another man, so quickly after their own affair had ended, would be proof to him that she was fickle and unworthy.

* * *

OUTSIDE, THE GEORGIA sun beat down like a whip on his face. “Lilah. Stop.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she froze. He stepped in front of her and gazed at her pale face. Now that he had her attention, he hadn’t a clue what to say.

“Sorry you heard the news that way,” she said flatly. “Didn’t want you to wonder if it was yours, though—just in case we ran into each other in the future or you heard something.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. This didn’t feel right.

“Positive.”

Anger churned his gut. There hadn’t been anyone else for him since he’d cut off ties with Lilah. How had she moved on so quickly? “Who?” he ground out past numb lips.

Her brows raised and she regarded him blankly.

“Who’s the father?”

“Oh. You don’t know him. He’s not from around here.”

She was lying. He was—almost—sure of it.

“Is the baby mine or not? I deserve the truth.”

She hesitated. “You deserve a life with a woman you love. You deserve to be sheriff.”

“Is that what this is about? Let me decide what I want.”

“Do you love me?” she asked abruptly.

His mind drew a blank. Love? He cared for her...mightily cared. But love? “I... I’m...”

Her lips trembled, and she pinched them together. “Whatever happened between us is long over. I have to figure things out on my own.”

“You shouldn’t have to face this alone. What about this...this other man?” His mind whirled at the possibility she was telling the truth. “Will he marry you? Or at least support you?”

She gave a harsh laugh. “The days of shotgun weddings ’round these parts are long over. Plenty of women have been single moms. I can do the same.”

A memory pierced him—her dad at the Foxy Lady bar/motel, hunting down Ed after getting word that Darla was with child. By all witness accounts, Chauncey had stormed into the dive, red-faced and waving a shotgun, searching for the hapless culprit who’d deflowered his eldest daughter. Seeing Ed shirk into the corner, Chauncey had approached and grabbed a fistful of Ed’s camouflage jacket. “Congratulations, you’re getting married,” he’d announced.

Harlan ran a finger over the collar rim of his stiff uniform shirt. Those days of forced marriages weren’t entirely over. Chauncey Tedder would be mighty displeased about this situation if he were still alive. He cleared his throat. “But you don’t have to raise a child alone if he—”

“Just go back to work, Harlan. This is my problem, not yours.” She darted around him, but not quickly enough for him to miss the tears brimming in her eyes.

“Are you going to be okay driving home?” he asked. Damn it, he still cared about her even though he shouldn’t.

She didn’t bother responding. Instead, she climbed in her car and backed out of the parking space a tad too carelessly. She whipped out of the lot and accelerated onto the highway. Within a minute, the car disappeared in the distance.

It was as if Lilah couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

“She gone?” Jolene was suddenly beside him.

“Looks that way.”

“It’s for the best, Harlan.” She ran a hand along his arm. “Time you moved on. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

He frowned and moved out of her reach. This wasn’t Jolene’s first hint she wanted something more than friendship.

“Plenty of other fish in the sea.” She smiled and practically batted her eyes.

But he had zero interest in his comely coworker. Instead of a tall redhead, his interest was decidedly marked in favor of a certain petite blonde. One who clearly was over him and might even be pregnant with another man’s baby.

So why was he so upset? Hadn’t that been what he wanted all along—a clean break with Lilah? But he walked away from Jolene and headed back to work weighted with a heaviness that made him feel suddenly ten years older.

Chapter Four (#u072b5b70-9af4-50a1-9d9e-d6ec7fafadd7)

Harlan considered himself lucky. Today would be so busy that thoughts of Lilah would be temporarily relegated to the back burner. Last night had been a tough and fitful sleep—was the baby his or not and why should he care?—but after numerous cups of coffee, he now had enough stamina to get through the day’s scheduled raid.

He and five other officers surrounded the abandoned older home. Kudzu crept over the windows like a living, breathing veil. So convenient for anyone hiding illegal drugs. One would expect to see broken windows and doors in a vacated building, but for all its age and the superficial facade of neglect, the front door was bolted shut with a steel chain and padlock and it lacked signs of forced entry anywhere.

Not only that but also dozens of large footsteps had tamped down the overgrown grass and weeds surrounding the house. They’d been there when he and the team had arrived.

He had a good feeling about this one.

Remote homes sprinkled Appalachia, but this place on top of Booze Mountain took the cake. It had taken them a good half an hour of driving up increasingly narrow and bumpy dirt roads to get here.

Sammy Armstrong sidled over and gave him a broad wink. “How’s your girlfriend doing?”

Harlan gritted his teeth. If it had been someone other than his old childhood friend teasing him, he would have busted his chops. “Fine,” he spat, not inviting further conversation.