A Valley to Die For Read Free Page B

dream now. It was as if, over the last five years, she had become disconnected from the real event, the horrible thing that was “only an accident.”
    Now, for her, the horror usually stayed in its own dim shadow, hidden away, and the friendliness of the woods had returned. But Evan couldn’t seem to forget that day, even after five years—even after he’d been cleared of any homicidal intent by the courts. Thank goodness she no longer needed to see the man.
    You couldn’t change the past, so why didn’t he just get on with his life? After all, she had! She’d been on her own for a long time when, at age twenty-nine, she married Amos McCrite. Their marriage had never been more than a friendship, so now, well, being alone was just fine, and she was proving she could cope, no matter what her age. No matter what, period!
    It took her a moment to come back to the present and realize the phone was ringing. She looked at the clock again. Still early. It would be JoAnne.
    Carrie had never decided if JoAnne didn’t understand how she valued her early morning quiet time or understood completely and didn’t care. One thing for sure, JoAnne herself didn’t spend much time being quiet. JoAnne was a lot like Amos.
    But it wasn’t JoAnne, not at all. Henry’s rumbling voice apologized for disturbing her.
    “Is JoAnne there?” he asked. “She wanted help organizing the notes from her meeting with the Environmental Commission and asked me to come by this morning, but when I got there, she didn’t answer the door. The cat came to the window and yowled at me, that’s all. Did she forget?”
    Carrie wasn’t surprised. JoAnne was always going off on spur-of-the-moment quests. She had simply found something she considered more interesting or important than a meeting with her neighbor, Henry King. Still, it was odd that, given her opinion of all men, she’d invited Henry’s help in the first place, instead of asking Carrie herself to come.
    Not only was Henry male, he’d been a cop. To JoAnne—who had pushed against lines of uniformed men during the war in Vietnam, had marched for civil rights, the ERA, and even chained herself to a log skidder in the Ozark National Forest—being in any kind of law enforcement was about as low as a man could go. Nothing Carrie could say softened JoAnne’s opinion about that.
    She wondered if JoAnne had ever faced off against a woman law officer. She must remember to ask.
    Once more Carrie checked the clock. Wherever she was now, JoAnne would be back for the Walden Valley Committee meeting in an hour and a half. After all, having the meeting was her idea in the first place.
    A rumble coming from the phone broke into her thoughts. “Carrie, hello, are you there?”
    “Oh, sorry, Henry, I was thinking about JoAnne. No, she’s not here, and I haven’t heard from her this morning. I have no idea where she might be. She’s usually up and busy quite early. She may have gotten into some new project hours ago and just plain forgot you were coming, or she could be out wandering the valley again, or maybe she’s just gone to town for cat food... or milk... or something.”
    She knew she was babbling, but couldn’t think what else to say. Evidently it didn’t matter, because when Henry spoke again, he changed the subject.
    “Cara, maybe we could go for a walk in the valley after the meeting, just the two of us, then drive into town for lunch?”
    His use of the nickname, as well as his invitation, made her feel strangely warm, and she wondered—as she had more than once before—if Henry wanted a closer friendship. Some types of friendship could intrude on her independence if she let them. She was aware of that, even without JoAnne’s constant reminders.
    But Henry was such a comfortable person to be with, and he’d never said or done anything that wasn’t suitable. It wasn’t a male-female thing at all.
    She said, “Sorry, but I can’t. I’m baking caramel rolls, sort of a brunch.