her plane landed in Charlotte forty-five minutes late to do more than toss her hastily packed suitcase into the trunk of the car and drive out of the parking lot at the airport terminal.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She’d wept nonstop since yesterday, when she’d read about her mother’s death in the Sweet Briar Herald. Although she lived in New York, she had a subscription to her hometown newspaper, the lone link to her past. Her heart ached as she recounted the number of times she’d picked up the phone, only to hang up without dialing. She’d let her fear of rejection win. And now it was too late.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks, then rummaged through her purse, quickly grabbing her driver’s license and proof of insurance.
Carmen glanced out the side mirror at the brown-skinned man with close-cropped black hair as he climbed out of the squad car. He looked at her license plate, then spoke into a radio attached to the shoulder of his shirt. Tall and muscular, he projected an air of confidence.
“What’s taking so long?” she wondered aloud. If he didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t be able to sneak into the church and grab a seat in the back pew. Her stomach clenched at the thought of being spotted by her father. He’d made it clear when he’d thrown her out of the house seven years ago that he no longer considered her his daughter. She’d gotten into too much trouble and had embarrassed him one too many times. The accident had been the last straw. Although she doubted he would risk tarnishing his sterling reputation by personally kicking her out, he wouldn’t hesitate to have someone else escort her from the funeral. But she wouldn’t let him prevent her from saying goodbye this time.
She stifled the urge to lay on the horn, settling for peering out the mirror once more. The officer must have noticed her looking, because he raised a finger in the universal wait-a-minute sign as he grabbed a pen from his pocket and wrote something on a pad. Swallowing her frustration, she resigned herself to losing even more time. The last thing she wanted was to irritate the police. Her one and only run-in with the law when she was eighteen was more than enough to last her a lifetime.
“License, please.”
His stealth startled her and she jumped, tossing a quick look at him. She quickly passed the requested ID card out the window, then concentrated on slowing her breathing. Seeming guilty was never good.
“Sunglasses,” he added, taking the license into his large hand.
She blinked. “Sorry?”
“Please remove your sunglasses.”
She quickly complied, folding the glasses and placing them on the dashboard.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asked, studying her face. She looked back at him, but his rugged face, square jaw and dark eyes weren’t familiar. She didn’t expect him to recognize her, either. She didn’t look anything like she did when she left town seven years ago.
“No.” She looked away from his probing eyes to focus on his uniform, searching his broad chest for a name tag. Her heart stopped when she realized he wasn’t wearing an officer’s uniform. She’d been stopped by the chief of police. Of course, he wasn’t old, humorless, overweight Dale Muldoon, who’d been chief seven years ago. Thank goodness. He’d been firmly in her father’s pocket and wouldn’t make a move without clearing it with Charles Shields first. She just hoped this chief wasn’t in her father’s pocket, too.
* * *
Trenton Knight looked at the young woman. “Speeding. You were doing forty in a thirty-five-mile-per-hour zone. There’s a grade school two blocks from here. Plenty of children cross this road every day.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was going over the limit.”
“We take speeding very seriously.”
“Sorry,” she repeated.
Trent nodded. She sounded sincere, but a little bit distracted, as well. Something about her was definitely off. He looked at her more carefully. Young, with flawless golden-brown skin and high cheekbones, she was model beautiful. Her coffee-brown eyes were red-rimmed. Her full bottom lip trembled. He didn’t smell alcohol, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t impaired.
He tucked her license into his breast pocket and backed away from the door. “Step out of the car please, ma’am.”
Her eyes widened and she blinked. “What? Why? Can’t you please just give me the ticket and let me go?”
The desperation in her voice and the sudden panic in her eyes convinced Trent he needed to take a closer look at her. “Please step out of the vehicle.”
The woman sighed, opened the door and stepped out of the car. Standing ramrod straight, her small hands clutched in front of her, she stared at him as if awaiting further instructions. She was smaller than she’d appeared inside the vehicle, barely reaching his shoulder. She was dressed more conservatively than he’d expected, as well. The wind blew her shoulder-length hair into her eyes, and she pushed it behind her ear with a delicate hand.
She was wearing a black silk tank and a long black skirt that swirled around her ankles, nearly touching her shiny black sandals. He glanced inside the car. A black jacket was hanging on the hook behind the driver’s door.
He put the clues together easily. She wasn’t impaired. Her eyes were red from crying. Even now she was struggling to keep the tears in check. She was mourning the loss of a loved one. He knew that agony all too well. He still grieved his wife’s loss and always would.
She looked at him, her brown eyes wary. “Do you need anything else from me, Chief?”
“No.” Not now that he knew she was suffering.
“Then may I please go? I’m on my way to a funeral,” she said, confirming his conclusion. “If I don’t leave soon, it’ll be too late.” She turned her head slightly as if trying to hide the fact that she was crying. She slid a finger under her eye before turning back to him. “I promise to do the speed limit all the way. And I’ll pay my ticket before I leave town. I swear.”
Her slightly husky voice broke on the last word. Despite his hard-and-fast rule that every speeder got a ticket, he couldn’t give one to her. Not today, when she was so obviously heartbroken. Even he wasn’t that merciless.
“I’m not going to give you a ticket this time. Just a warning to slow down. Your family wouldn’t want the next funeral to be yours.”
“Thank you.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out her driver’s license, glancing at the name. His heart stopped.
Carmen Shields. Carmen Shields! The woman responsible for his wife’s death. She might not have been driving the night of the crash, but she’d been in the car and hadn’t kept her friend from driving drunk.
He looked at her outstretched hand and then back at her face. He was surprised he hadn’t recognized her. True, she looked nothing like the run-amok teenager whose face was forever emblazoned in his memory. That girl’s hair had usually been a tangle of waves and curls that hung to the middle of her back, not smooth as silk and barely brushing her slight shoulders. And she’d always worn large earrings, not tiny pearls. The polite, respectful woman standing in front of him was definitely different from the rude and belligerent teen she’d been. But still, because of this woman, he’d lost his precious Anna.
“Carmen Shields. I should have recognized you.”
The sympathy he’d felt a moment ago vanished, replaced by fury as the night of the accident came rushing back to him.
Anna had wanted chocolate ice cream for dessert. He’d promised to pick some up after work, but he’d gotten busy and forgotten. She’d kissed his cheek and hopped in the car for a quick trip to the store. An hour later he’d gotten the call. Now, as he stood here by the side of the road, his vision blurred and his stomach churned with guilt. If only he’d remembered that stupid ice cream, his beloved Anna would never have been on that road.
“You