Free THE SECRET OF CHEROKEE COVE by Paula Graves Page B

live in Bitterwood for precisely the reason half its population longed to get away—its quiet, out-of-the-way seclusion.
    Nix supposed the Sutherlands stuck around the little town for much the same reason, long after Pete’s father had sold several newspapers back in print’s heyday for a fortune and invested his earnings in oil and mining interests. Old Pete was a Bitterwood celebrity of sorts, an old-fashioned newspaperman who still liked to have a little ink on his hands. He might be rich, but he didn’t put on airs, taking delight in his Appalachian roots and his reverence for the area’s history.
    Hell, Nix had always liked the old coot himself. But he’d never crossed the man, so he’d never had occasion to see Mr. Sutherland’s darker side. Assuming a darker side even existed.
    “What do you propose to do about it, now that you have that information?” he asked Dana, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on the bed beside him while he pulled on his boots.
    “Well, that’s why I’m calling you,” she answered. “I considered trying to meet the Hales to get their sides of the story, but Rachel Hammond seemed to think contacting them would be a bad idea at this point. And since she grew up amongst their ilk, I figured I should defer to her wisdom on the subject.”
    Nix grinned at her word choices. “Probably smart. But if you’re hoping I can get you any closer to the town muckety-mucks, you’re out of luck. I’m from Cherokee Cove, not Edgewood. I have a feeling there were probably some Nixes run out of town right along with the Cumberlands back in the day.”
    “Believe me, your redneck roots are what I’m banking on. I’d like to talk to some folks in Cherokee Cove.”
    Oh, no, he thought. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Especially considering how much she apparently looked like her mother, if the whispers he’d been hearing since she came to town were anything to go by. Cumberlands had become easy scapegoats for all the problems people in his little neck of the woods had suffered over the ensuing years. They haunted Cherokee Cove even today, long after the last Cumberland had pulled up stakes and headed for more welcoming parts of the state.
    “Listen, we should talk about this, but not now. I’m following a different lead, and besides, taking a cop into Cherokee Cove isn’t the way to get information.”
    “But you’re one of them.”
    “Not when I’m wearing the badge,” he answered firmly. Which was why he wasn’t going to be wearing the badge today, at least not where anyone in town could see it. “Tell you what. I’ll call you later, when I get some time.”
    “Fine.” The tightness in her voice made him wince with guilt, but he reminded himself that she’d gone on her hospital detective jaunt without consulting him, and the guilt passed. If he found out anything that might answer their questions about who had tried to kill the chief, he’d tell her. But until then, he was a cop on a case and she was, fancy federal badge or not, a family member of the victim, in town on vacation. She’d just have to be patient.
    He should have known patience wasn’t one of Dana Massey’s virtues.
    * * *
    T HE SMALL COMMUNITY of Cherokee Cove, on the northern slope of Smoky Ridge, lay nestled in a shadowy, wooded valley in the side of the mountain. There was only one road in or out, which probably explained why Dana didn’t manage to get twenty yards past the first house before people started coming out into their yards to watch her drive past.
    She ignored their unsmiling gazes and drove on until she reached a small cluster of buildings that seemed to be the sum total of the community’s business district. There was a tiny post office, a hardware store and a small grocery on one side of the road. On the other side stood a small brick church with a white steeple. Nowhere to park in front of either the post office or the store, she noted with surprise. She turned off the road and parked in