Joe swiped at his dripping nose. “The afterschool program you ran out here in the summer set a lot of ’em straight.”
Max had had ten kids working here over the summer and fall. Kids who’d gotten in trouble, were failing out of school—some of the worst of them had been headed for the halfway house for teens out by Coxsackie. Two of them still worked here as full employees, no longer the atrisk kids they’d been.
“Sue’s still going to school?” he asked about the most stubborn of the kids.
Joe nodded. “She’s getting straight D’s, but she’s there.”
“Good,” Max said and waited a little longer for Joe to get to the topic he’d traveled out here to discuss.
“You know I’ve never pried, right?” Joe asked, and Max felt his gut tighten. “I know you were on the force in some capacity. I mean the way you move, the way you keep grabbing for your gun, the way you handle those kids—it tells me you’re law enforcement all the way.” He paused and Max could feel the old man’s eyes on his face.
“You investigating me?” Max asked, kicking snow off his boots, where it had gathered.
“No. That’s what I’m saying. I could look you up. Ask around. It wouldn’t take much to figure out where you’ve been.”
“So? Why don’t you?” Max squinted up into the sky. Here he was outside, no ceiling, no walls. Nothing but trees and clean air and snow. Still, he felt his failure like a weight on his chest. He hauled in a deep breath. Another.
“I keep hoping someday you’ll tell me.” Joe’s voice dropped an octave and was coated in uncomfortable pity.
Max didn’t say anything.
“Were you FBI? Undercover? Vice?” Joe asked.
“I was just a cop. That’s all.”
“I get that it was bad, but—”
“Nothing worse than usual.” Max faced Joe and got to the heart of the matter. “Why are you asking?”
“Ted Harris is retiring.”
Max smiled. “You’re here to celebrate? That idiot’s been a thorn in your side for—” Something in Joe’s face, a stubborn mix of hope and concern, made Max stop and shake his head. “I don’t want the job, Joe.”
“Juvenile Parole Officer. You’d be perfect.” Joe put his hand on Max’s shoulder and Max struggled not to shake it off. Joe continued, “We’ve got a juvenile crime problem in this county and Ted didn’t do jack—”
“I don’t want the job, Joe.”
“But between the program you ran here and the help you gave me with the break-ins over at the community center, you’re perfect. And from what I can gather, you’re qualified.”
Max nearly laughed. He was qualified. More than qualified. But he was utterly unwilling.
“I don’t want the job.”
“You like this?” Joe asked, flinging an arm out at the half-built building and the barely visible lodge through the trees. “This is satisfying?”
Max blinked. Satisfying. He didn’t think in those terms anymore. This, what he did here with his dad and brother, it was easy. If something went wrong, everyone still woke up in the morning.
Those were the terms he lived by these days.
“Sorry, Joe.”
Joe stared at him for a long time and Max avoided his gaze. The guy was too wily and he didn’t want or need the man as a surrogate father—he had a great one kicking around. And he didn’t need a counselor, or a friend from the force. He needed to be forgotten, left alone.
“I just thought you might be interested. It’s a chance to do some real good,” Joe said, the disappointment like a neon sign in his voice.
Max couldn’t stop the harrumph of exasperated, black humor. He’d been told that once before, three years ago. And maybe he’d done some good—he just didn’t care anymore.
“Son—” The pity was back in Joe’s voice.
“Gotta frame that roof, Joe. So?” Max faced the old sheriff, kept his eyes empty, his heart bleak. “Unless there’s something else you need.”
Joe tried to wait him out, no doubt looking for a crack he’d never find.
“Stubborn cuss,” Joe grunted.
“I could say the same.”
Joe brushed his hands together like he was cleaning Max off of him. A good decision, all in all. “I’ll see you around.” Joe tipped his head and turned, heading back up the trail toward civilization.
Max wondered if he’d burned a bridge there. He liked Joe. Liked helping him in the small ways he was willing to take on.
Max opened his mouth to call him back, to apologize or explain why he couldn’t take the job. But just the thought of saying the words shut his mouth for him.
He watched Joe walk away until he was replaced by snow, by gray sky, by the isolation Max cultivated like a garden.
Chapter Two
“HI,” DELIA SAID to Gabe Mitchell as she entered the dining room from the kitchen, her daughter in tow. “Sorry about the interruption.”
“No apologies necessary,” Gabe said with a smooth smile. The man had a dangerous charm and was painfully easy on the eyes—a potentially lethal combo and one that in the past would have had her panting at his feet.
Thank God she’d grown up some in the past few years.
From what she could tell, the two brothers could not be more different. Max had been kind enough but she’d bet her car he didn’t know how to roll out the red carpet like Gabe. Stupidly, she found herself liking Max’s quiet intensity better. But she’d married her husband thinking the same thing and look where that had gotten her.
Delia would make a point to stay away from Max if she landed this job.
“I would have done the same thing if my daughter had run off.” Gabe smiled at Josie, who had the good sense to look chagrined.
“Did you see anything interesting?” he asked Josie.
“Max.”
Gabe nodded. “Well, he’s interesting all right. Did he scare you?”
Yes, Delia thought. He scares me.
“No,” Josie said. “He was nice.”
“Nice?” Gabe pretended to be doubtful. “We’re talking about the same guy? Big and tall with black hair
