“Yeah, no problem.” I got out my running gear and took off my jeans and sweater. I kept my back to him, but that was normal. While not having any modesty fetish, we tried to keep a boundary there. After all, we were brother and sister.

No, you’re not, said my bad self. He’s really not related to you at all.

I stuck a room key in my pocket and went outside into the cold wet air to run off my unhappiness.

Two

“I’M the sheriff of Knott County,” the lean woman said. She was leaning over the counter that divided the front of the station from the back, and she’d been chatting with the dispatcher when we entered. I’ve never understood how law enforcement people can stand to carry so much equipment around their hips, and this woman was bearing the full complement, too. I never like to stare long enough to identify all the items. I’d had a brief relationship with a deputy, and I should have taken a moment then to examine his cop equipment. I’d been more involved with his other equipment, I guess.

When the sheriff straightened, I saw she was a tall woman. She was in her fifties, with graying brown hair and a comfortable set of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She didn’t look like any true believer I’d ever encountered, yet she was the one who’d emailed us.

“I’m Harper Connelly,” I said. “This is my brother, Tolliver Lang.”

We weren’t what she’d expected, either. She gave me a scan up and down.

“You don’t look like a dingbat,” she said.

“You don’t look like a prejudiced stereotype,” I said.

The dispatcher sucked in her breath. Uh-oh.

Tolliver was right behind me, slightly to my left, and I felt nothing but a calm waiting coming from him. He always had my back.

“Come into my office. We’ll talk,” said the tall woman. “My name is Sandra Rockwell, and I’ve been sheriff for one year.” Sheriffs are elected in North Carolina. I didn’t know how long her term was, but if she’d only been a sheriff a year, she must have plenty to go. Politics might not be as urgent a consideration for Sheriff Rockwell as they would be during election year.

We were in her office by then. It wasn’t very big, and it was decorated with pictures of the governor, a state flag, a U.S. flag, and some framed certificates. The only personal thing on Sheriff Rockwell’s desk was one of those clear cubes you can fill with pictures. Her cube was full of shots of the same two boys. They were both brown-haired like their mother. One of them, grown, had a wife and child of his own. Nice. The other one had a hunting dog.