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“Good. Anything illegal besides them being up here?” he asked, as the wind knifed upward from the river far below. Two girls were in the group, huddled close to their motley group of boys.

“Minors in Possession. Alcohol. Marijuana. Some unidentified pills.”

Great, Carter thought as he took another deep drag. Just what we need right now. “All the kids ID’d?”

“Yep.”

In the distance, another rig’s engine whined up the hill.

“Probably the state guys,” Carter said. “I informed Sparks. This scene is the OSP’s jurisdiction.”

“Officially.” Montinello stomped his feet and lit a cigarette. “A couple of the kids are underage. I mean, younger than eighteen. Two girls. One’s BJ’s kid. I already called her. She’s madder’n a wet hen and on her way.”

“Holy shit,” Shane growled under his breath. In his mind’s eye, he could see the headlines in the Falls Crossing Tribune now: DAUGHTER OF DEPUTY CHARGED WITH CRIMINAL MISCHIEF. Except that since Megan was under eighteen, her name wouldn’t appear in the paper. At least, he hoped. “BJ’s gonna be fit to be tied.”

“Already is, but wait, it gets better,” Montinello assured him as another blast of wind rolled through the hills.

Carter braced himself. “How?”

“The other girl is Jenna Hughes’s daughter.” He motioned with a gloved finger to the taller girl. “The one in the purple stocking cap.”

“Hell.” Of course the daughter of Falls Crossing’s most celebrated citizen would be involved. He looked over the group of kids huddled together, still copping attitudes, even though their teeth were chattering, and they were hopped up on fear as much as anything else. His gaze landed on the Hughes girl. Daughter number one, who had been in the truck when he’d pulled Miss Hollywood over.

The kid’s resemblance to her famous mother was remarkable. Same high cheekbones and dark, arched eyebrows. A larger nose but intense eyes. Unruly strands of streaked hair escaped from her knitted hat, blowing across a face that was already beautiful. Her jacket collar was turned up against the wind, and she was standing next to the Sykes kid, a big, gangly boy with a tough-guy attitude and not much else going for him.

Carter had been a cop around here long enough to know Josh Sykes’s family. On a professional level. The way he figured it, Josh was a poster child for what happens when a kid’s neglected and left to his own devices. Josh wasn’t a bad seed, just bored and in need of direction. Otherwise, he’d land himself into big trouble. And soon.

While Carter finished his cigarette, Lieutenant Sparks parked his rig. A big man with dark, curly hair and intense brown eyes, he took a look around, his state-issued uniform and bearing causing all the kids to watch him cautiously. He let out a long whistle of disappointment as he approached the shivering bunch of teenagers. “What in the hell did you guys think you were doing?” he asked rhetorically and didn’t wait for an answer. Shaking his head, he ordered the older kids hauled into town and allowed the two sixteen-year-olds to be cited and released to their parents.

Another big engine roared loudly through the woods. Bright headlight beams splashed against the trunks of the trees.

“Uh-oh,” Montinello muttered.

A pickup belonging to BJ Stevens slid to a stop. She left the truck running, headlights drilling light through the darkness, and flew out of the cab. The proverbial wet hen.

In jeans, a sweatshirt, and an oversized ski jacket, she stomped through the snow. “What the hell is going on up here?” she demanded, as she didn’t so much as look at the men, but walked up to the small group of teenagers. Without makeup, devoid of sleep, fury radiating from her, she read her daughter the riot act.

“Jesus H. Christ, Megan, don’t you have a brain in your head? This is a crime scene, for crying out loud!”

Megan stared at the ground.

“I’m a cop!”

Still no response.

“Come on, get in the truck. Now!”

As she herded her recalcitrant kid toward her idling vehicle, she paused at the group of men. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her lips razor-thin, her skin as white as the snow covering the underbrush. “I’m sorry. I had no idea she’d snuck out.”

“It happens,” Sparks said.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it happened to me, and believe me, it won’t again! Throw the book at her. She deserves it. God, will she ever learn?” BJ said, and rolled her eyes toward the starless heavens.

“They all do,” Carter said.

“Not all of them.” BJ wasn’t about to be patronized. “This is just what I need right now. Just what I friggin’ need.” She cast a weary glace at Carter. “You don’t know how lucky you are that you don’t have a teenager.”

She took off toward the truck and said, “I mean it, Megan, this crap has got to end. Right now!” With that, she opened the passenger door and waited as her silent, simmering daughter climbed inside.


Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery