The rental agent was his fifth grade teacher's cousin. It was plain she didn't remember him, and Harlan Quinn was grateful for small favors. He'd had enough of wide-eyed amazement, turned up noses, and slanted looks to last him a lifetime.
The house sat on a small cul-de-sac that hadn't been there when Quinn left Hotchkiss, Colorado, and it looked clean and quiet and just the ticket to keep him away from most of the folks he was related to. That was good enough for him. He turned to face the frosted-haired lady. What was her name? Miz Harris.
"I'll take it."
"Oh, but don't you want to see the backyard, or the..."
"I'll take it," he cut her off. "Can we go sign the papers?"
"Oh, well, yes. Back at the office." Her cheeks flushed and her mouth pursed all up and Quinn almost laughed. She was pissy at him for not playing by the polite rules, and she looked just like her cousin the teacher, who would get the same look when she caught him in the bathroom smoking a cigarette.
"Good."
He motioned for her to precede him and they went out, her just shutting the door behind her, him carefully making sure it was locked. The town wasn't that fucking small anymore.
They'd just gotten out to the curb when a car pulled into the drive of the house across the street, and Miz Harris clapped her hands. "Oh, excellent, you can come meet one of your neighbors."
She stood on tiptoe, waving wildly as a man got out of the car. "Oh, Danny! Danny! Wait for us; I want you to meet your new neighbor."
"Yes, ma'am." She got a nod and the man moved to open his trunk, so Quinn only got a glimpse of thin legs in jeans, ball cap pulled down to shade the man's face.
Quinn rolled his eyes, figuring this was his punishment for being in a hurry, but he waited as patiently as he could, shifting from foot to foot.
Miz Harris drew the other guy over, his hands full of groceries. "Danny, this is our new sheriff and your new neighbor. Sheriff Quinn, this is one of our middle school teachers, Danny Avers."
The eyes behind the wire-framed glasses went wide, searched his face. "I ... Good afternoon, Sheriff. Welcome to the neighborhood."
It was like a kick in the gut, taking him back some eighteen years to his senior year in high school. That face had barely changed at all, was just a little thinner with a few more lines. He didn't want to do this in front of Miz Harris, though. Not one bit. So he just held out his hand. "Pleased, Mr. Avers."
Dan's hand was smooth, warm, the shake firm.
He felt his own hand start to sweat, and pulled back as casually as he could, wiping it on his jeans where they wouldn't see. "I'll look forward to seeing you around. Miz Harris, if you don't mind, I need to get back to the office, ASAP."
Dan nodded, already turned away, moving toward a little, plain, neat house.
His gait was a little off, a little odd, and Miz Harris nodded toward Dan as he disappeared. "He's a dear, sweet man. Was in a wicked evil car wreck oh ... sixteen-seventeen years ago. He was the only one of a bunch of kids that made it, though. Careflighted him into Grand Junction, and six years later? He's applying to teach at the school and taking care of his sick daddy."
Well, there you go. That just summed up a life in a hundred words or less. Only if you knew Dan, you knew that surviving your friends in an accident, and your dad getting sick, would both be devastating events. Crushing. Quinn watched him go, then resolutely turned to the car to head back and sign papers so he could get back to his job. Dan wasn't his business anymore. The sheriff's department was, and it was time he got down to it.
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