Mason casually reached back and squeezed the cold steel of the wrench. Craftsman tools came with a lifetime warranty. Far as he knew, they never really specified whose lifetime.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Mason led the way through the maze. “Not quite so scary during the day, huh?”
“Looks like a lot of work,” Troy said. “Was it hard to set up?”
“Not too much. We’ve done this for a few years now, and it gets easier and bigger every fall. We make enough money off it to help out with repairs and stuff around the farm, but truth be told, we’d probably do it even if we didn’t clear a cent. The community’s really taken a liking to everything. Gives them something to do without having to drive too far. Lots of families will come out several times during the season. Good way to keep in touch with neighbors. Hold on to that small-town feeling, you know?”
Troy ran his hand along the stalks as they walked. “How do you get the corn so dense in here?”
“Double planted. One way and then again at ninety degrees off that.”
“Anybody ever get lost back here?”
Mason laughed. “All the time. That’s why all the workers have to know the closest way out. I try to keep enough people in here so they can keep an eye on the customers. Make sure everybody stays in the paths. Course, every now and then somebody’ll take off trampling through the stalks. We tend to frown on that. It’s a lot of work to repair the damage.”
The men walked past some stacked hay bales with a ghost peeking from behind.
“Kids ever mess with your decorations?” Troy asked.
“Not really. A few busted pumpkins now and then, but that’s about the extent of it. Like I said, we try to keep enough workers back here to keep an eye on things.”
Mason licked his lips and flexed his fingers. The first skelcrow waited around the next corner. Demond Houston. Wearing a dirty blue button- down shirt with brown tweed jacket, khakis, cap, and a pipe wired to his mouth. Looking rather dapper and plasticky. Officer Troy Obion’s future depended on his reaction to Demond.
The men turned left, and Mason lagged behind the policeman.
Troy slowed and glanced at the display. “Cool. You light it up at night?”
Mason traced a finger along the wrench. “Sort of. Battery powered LED lights inside the skull. Also got a few spotlights spread around, but they run off solar. Don’t last too long. Plus, we give out flashlights.”
“If I get time, I’d love to come back after dark and go through. Seems like it’d be fun.”
“You’re welcome any time. On the house, of course.”
“Appreciate it. Much farther to Lanny’s work area?”
“Another ten minutes or so if we get a move on.”
Troy moved to get a closer look at the skelcrow. “Great. I’m trying to get out of here before lunch. Maybe swing back by the DQ before heading to the search area.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Lanny worked right up this way. Coming?” Mason moved off and glanced over his shoulder to ensure the policeman followed. He didn’t.
Troy stood with his arms crossed, reviewing the scene before him. “Never seen a scarecrow like that before?”
Mason cleared his throat. “We call them skelcrows. My youngest son came up with the name. Got the idea from the Dollar General in town. Helps make a five-dollar skeleton look more real. Anything to increase the spooky factor, you know? Kids these days. Almost impossible to scare them, what with all the gory stuff they see at the movies.”
Troy scratched his bottom lip. “Uh-huh. Interesting. Looks good.”
Mason scooted closer to the officer. “I hate to hurry you, but—”
Troy whipped around and faced the farmer. “Sorry. I get distracted sometimes. Don’t mean to take up too much of your time. I know you’ve got a lot to do. Lead the way.”
Mason studied the policeman’s face. If he had any suspicions, he hid them well. “Okay then. Like I said, just a bit farther.”
“Great. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
They passed one more skelcrow on the way. Gloria Mathias, tastefully attired in a purple blouse and black pants, accessorized perfectly with a huge golden brooch, black handbag, and floppy red hat. Troy slowed and smiled at her but kept walking.
“This is the spot,” Mason said. “Lanny worked around here. Right over there’s where the incident happened. Not much to see, I’m afraid.”
Troy paced the area, scanning the ground and scribbling notes in his pad. A couple of times, he pushed the corn aside and peered into the depths of the field.
“Whatcha think?” Mason asked.
Troy slid the pen into the spiral rings of the notepad and slipped it into his back pocket. “I think that’s a lot of corn.”
Mason laughed. “Give it another month and this field will be bare. The cows will be well-fed, though.”
“I appreciate your time, sir. Wish I could say it’s been helpful, but there’s nothing here. Didn’t figure there would be, but leave no stone unturned, isn’t that what they say?”
“I suppose it is. Just wish I could do more.”
Troy nodded. “We all do. Tell you what. If you don’t mind, I’d like to spend a little more time out here. Walking in the quiet’s really felt good. Cleared my mind.”
“Farming will do that for you. There’s a tie to the land. Not an easy life, but it’s a good one. You take all the time you want.”
“Thanks. I’ll wander back the way we came in and poke my head in to let you know I’m going.”
“You sure you can find the way?”
“Honestly? No, but I’d like to try.”
“Well, if I haven’t seen you in an hour, I’ll come looking. Deal?”
Troy shook hands with Mason. “Deal.”
Mason moved quickly, wanting to put some distance between the two of them. He passed Gloria, her outfit fluttering in the slow breeze, rounded the next corner, and stopped. No sound except the dry rustling of corn stalks. A few turkey vultures circled lazily overhead, the only dots in a pastel blue sky.
A perfect day. The kind of day only someone in touch with being outdoors could understand and appreciate. Hunters or farmers or fishermen or—
There. The unmistakable click of a cell phone’s camera. A cough, then another click. And another.
Mason sighed. A perfect day ruined or improved, depending on your perspective. He needed to get back to Paula. Make sure she was ready.
Her lucky day.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Mason paced the kitchen. “Pictures. He’s out there taking pictures. Not good, Paula. I wish I could—”
“Enough,” Paula said. “We knew this might happen. Now we’ll deal with it. Try to settle down. Don’t want to make him any more suspicious than he already is.”
“How long’s he been in there? He could be calling the police. Waiting for backup to arrive. It’s all closing in around us. Too fast. Way too fast. We need to get everything ready. Go ahead with—”
“Honey, you’re making me nervous. Sit. He’s been out there alone for almost thirty minutes. I’m sure if he was calling for reinforcements, they’d be here by now.”
Mason peered out the window over the sink. “If he’s not out of there soon, I’m going to find him.”
“And?”
“And ... doesn’t matter. There he is. You ready?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “For our family.”
“Always.” He glanced at his wife and walked down the back steps, waving toward the officer. Troy returned the wave and accelerated his pace.
“You made it out alive, I see,” Mason said.
“Touch and go there for a while. But I appreciate it. Seriously. Felt good to be outside and let my mind wander. Forget about all the mess that’s going on.”
“I know just what you mean. A man needs to clear his head once in a while or it’s liable to explode. I sometimes look back at my daddy and granddaddy and wonder if it was easier for them
. Simpler life, you know? Less to worry about. Eh, what am I saying? Farmers always worry. It’s who we are.”
“Tough way to make a living, I’m sure. Don’t think I could do it. Too much stuff out of my control.”
Mason shrugged. “You learn to deal with it any way you can. Be thankful for what you’ve got. Beyond that ...”
“I suppose so. Listen, thanks again. I may take you up soon on your offer to go through the maze one night.”
“You’re welcome any time. Bring some friends if you’d like.”
Troy headed for his Jeep. “Might just do that. We could all use a distraction, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.”
“I imagine this stuff, the missing boy and all, eats away at you.”
“I’m finding that out.”
They rounded the house and approached the driveway. “Well, we’re hoping and praying for the best. We know y’all are doing everything you can.”
Troy opened his vehicle’s door. “Give my best to your wife.”
Mason nodded and leaned against the tailgate of his old pickup. Still no other visitors to the pumpkin patch this morning. A blessing to have such a peaceful morning after the last few hectic days. “Know what else eats away at you? Beetles. Can’t blame them, though. They’re only doing what the good Lord created them to do.”
Troy’s eyebrows squished together. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Mason leaned back and casually scratched the back of his head. “You will.”
The deer rifle’s report tore through the late morning calm, startling the few birds loitering on bare tree branches. Within seconds, all was quiet again.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Jeremy stared at his phone’s screen. Four calls to Troy since yesterday afternoon, all going straight to voice mail. Either he’d turned off his cell or he was in a dead zone. Neither scenario seemed very likely. Not for this length of time. The fact that his friend hadn’t returned to his hotel last night wasn’t helping. Checks of local hospitals had turned up nothing.
He laid the phone on his desk and ran through the possibilities again. After so many years, seeing too much, he gravitated toward the darker options. Something had happened. Something not good. Any other conceivable situation and Troy would’ve called. Maybe he found—
His phone vibrated and he snatched it, his heart sinking when he saw the caller ID.
“Good morning,” Maggie said.
“Hey.”
“Well that’s certainly a cheery way to start the day.”
“What? Oh. Sorry. I’m a little preoccupied.”
“Can I help?”
“It’s Troy. I can’t get in touch with him, and I’m starting to get worried.”
“Maybe his battery’s dead?”
“Yeah, maybe. I stopped by his hotel this morning and had them check his room. Bed was still made.”
“Huh. Well, he’s a young single guy. Could be he found somewhere else to spend the night.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. That’s not Troy. And he didn’t check in at the command post this morning.”
“He probably decided to take the day off. It is his vacation, right? You know what they say. All work and no play makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
Jeremy snorted and pressed a hand against his lips. “Yep. That’s what they say. But it doesn’t feel right, Maggie. Troy wouldn’t just drop off the grid like this. I’m afraid something’s happened.”
“Then I say go with your gut. Put out a BOLO on his vehicle. See if anything turns up.”
“Thought about that. Don’t know how much good it’ll do, but I guess that couldn’t hurt. At least get his plates in the system.”
“It’s a start. Think this has anything to do with your case?”
“The missing Palmer boy. Sarah Goldman’s jawbone. And now Troy gone missing? So much happening in such a short time. Too much to be coincidence.”
“Need me to come down? I can take a couple of days off. Let Rebecca spend some time at her dad’s.”
“Appreciate the offer, but no thanks. I don’t need any distractions right now. Better if I stay focused on wrapping all this up.”
“A distraction, huh? That’s what I am to you?”
Jeremy grinned. “Uh-huh. The best kind of distraction.”
“Good answer. Call me as soon as you find anything on Troy. Oh, and I checked on Cronfeld’s Marine unit. Looks like he was telling the truth. The men did sign a confidentiality agreement when they left Afghanistan. Pretty close to the same one Cronfeld gave to you.”
“Not surprised. Stick a piece of paper in front of a bunch of tired Marines and tell them if they sign, they can go home. Who wouldn’t agree to that? Thanks, Maggie. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Me neither. Now hurry up and solve this thing. A couple of girls in Virginia wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of you. And don’t worry about Troy. I’m sure you’re being your old paranoid self. He’ll turn up.”
“Wish I could be that confident. Give Rebecca a kiss for me. I need to get to work. Going to try to retrace Troy’s steps yesterday.”
“Jeremy? Be careful.”
“Yeah. Sometimes we paranoids get it right.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Three hours since the BOLO was issued and nothing. Jeremy considered trying to get a warrant to track Troy’s phone, but knew it was pointless. No evidence of a crime. Besides, if the phone had been turned off, it wouldn’t do much good. Cell towers in the rural areas where he suspected the policeman had gone were few and far between. Triangulating wouldn’t be very helpful in narrowing down a search area.
Troy’s boss hadn’t heard from him. Neither had his soon-to-be- girlfriend Peggy or any other friends. It’d now been over twenty-four hours since anyone had contact with him. Something was dead wrong.
Local law enforcement had their hands full with the Lanny Palmer investigation. The Bureau wouldn’t get involved without evidence of a crime falling under their jurisdiction. Jeremy had no choice. He’d search alone.
First stop, the Dairy Queen. The manager confirmed meeting Troy yesterday and shared as much of their conversation as he could remember. Lanny was a good employee. Worked a couple of hours in the evenings cleaning tables and emptying trash. Missed a shift now and then, but what boy his age didn’t? No problems with any customers. Hung out with a group of boys from school. Seemed like a good kid. And worked some nights at the Miller farm over near Friendship.
Jeremy reviewed the grainy security footage from the day before and confirmed Troy left alone. Nothing out of the ordinary. The manager offered Jeremy a complimentary meal. He thanked him and declined. Next stop was the Millers’ place.
The farm was a little ways off the beaten path, though handmade signs pointed the way from the main road. He turned into the drive and drove past a minivan in a grass parking area. Pumpkins, decorations, and other wares were strewn about the area. A young mother wrestled with her two kids in an attempt to pose them for a photo beside hay bales and mums. He slowed and continued up the gravel drive to the house.
An old pickup truck sat by the home, its muddy tires, sporadic rust, and numerous dents proclaiming this vehicle was proud of its hard work. Off to the left, an ancient barn braced itself against the years and strutted under its shiny metal roof. In the distance, the sound of machinery. Jeremy hoped he wouldn’t have to walk all the way to the noise before he found someone.
“Can I help you?” A woman stood on the porch, shading her eyes against the noon sun’s brightness.
Jeremy waved and walked to her. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Special Agent Jeremy Winter with the FBI. Wondered if I could ask you a few questions.”
“The FBI? This about the Palmer boy? You’re the third one who’s come up here. Don’t mind telling you what we told the others, but it won’t be much use I’m afraid.”
Jeremy flashed his badge. “Did you say I’m the third person who’s been here about the case?”
&nb
sp; “Oh, where are my manners? Would you like to come in and sit down? Mason, he’s my husband, will be in for lunch soon. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’m in a bit of a hurry. I was hoping you could tell me if anyone from the police came by here yesterday.”
“They did. A young man with a Jeep, as I recall. Nice young man. Had some coffee with us while we talked.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“Last name O’Brien or something like that. Took his coffee black.”
“Can you tell me what you discussed?”
Paula shifted her stance. “We talked about Lanny and what his job was here and why we had to fire him.”
“Fire him?”
“Nothing big. Broke one of our rules. That was the last time we saw him.”
“Officer Obion ask about anything else?”
“No, sir. Not that I can recall. He couldn’t have been here more than ten or fifteen minutes tops.”
“Did he give any indication where he was headed next?”
“Uh-uh. What’s going on here? Has something happened to him?”
He pulled a business card out and handed it to her. “Not really sure. If you or your husband think of anything else, would you call me?”
“Of course we will. What’s the world coming to?”
“Ma’am?”
“Just not safe anywhere, is it? I remember when folks didn’t even lock their doors at night. Suppose those days are long gone, huh?”
Jeremy nodded. “I’ve been locking my doors for a long time, ma’am. A very long time.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Coming of Winter Page 22