by Connie Mann
Beside her, Blaze fidgeted and glanced over her shoulder until Eve swiveled her head around to see who had the teen squirming. She locked eyes with a lanky, long-haired teen with beautiful blue eyes sitting three rows behind them. She turned back and whispered, “What’s his name?”
A blush crept up Blaze’s cheeks, but she said nothing.
Eve still felt she was being watched, so she casually looked behind her again and was shocked to see several people glaring at her. Along the back wall of the packed church, Safe Harbor’s longtime mayor stood nose to nose with Leon Daughtry in some kind of whispered confrontation. Interesting. Too bad she couldn’t hear what they were arguing about.
She looked along the wall to her right and saw several of the hands from Blackwell’s farm scowling in her direction. They shifted slightly, and Eve saw a man standing in their midst, eyes on her. He looked vaguely familiar and rather threatening with that lord-of-the-manor air. Richard Blackwell. Of course. He definitely fit the image of ruthless commercial farmer. She stared back. He wouldn’t intimidate her.
Finally turning away, Eve recognized the new owner of the Gazette along the other wall, who frowned as she focused on Eve and scribbled in her notebook.
The music went into a crescendo at the end of a particularly long piece, and Cole leaned over. His breath tickled her ear. “If you’re trying to figure out what’s going on around here, glaring at everyone may not be the best approach.”
Eve stiffened at his words, but he was right, drat the man. She eased back in her seat and fixed a pleasant expression on her face.
“Better, but you still look like you just bit into a frog.”
Eve applauded along with everyone else and tried to ignore him, but it proved impossible. After the concert ended, finally, and Eve made her way back to her car, she realized he had so distracted her, she hadn’t learned a single thing tonight that would help Celia’s daughter.
She didn’t understand him. She’d expected him to hate her after what happened years ago. Yet it seemed like he’d sought her out tonight. Why? Just to keep an eye on her and her investigation? That didn’t seem right. Even as a cocky jock in high school when he’d teased her mercilessly, it had never been mean spirited, not like with the others.
The man intrigued her, but she had to stop thinking about him.
Naturally she dreamed about him all night, which annoyed her no end and made her cranky and disoriented the next morning. In a desperate bid to regain her equilibrium, she headed downstairs for great quantities of coffee. She would not let him throw her off.
Blaze sat at the table, reading the Gazette and drinking coffee, dressed in her usual black.
She glanced up when she saw Eve, then went back to the paper. “Heard you got caught trying to sneak onto Blackwell Farms yesterday. Why didn’t you say anything last night?”
Eve almost spewed out her coffee. “Where did you hear that?”
Blaze shrugged. “I have my sources.”
Eve raised a brow. “Long hair, blue eyes?”
Blaze scowled, but didn’t respond.
Eve took another sip of her coffee before she answered. “Not much to tell, except Mr. Blackwell obviously didn’t want me there.” She smiled, but Blaze’s frown didn’t change.
“You should watch your back. People are griping about how you destroyed Cole’s life—and the football team’s winning streak—back in the day, and that they don’t want you causing more trouble.”
Eve’s radar twitched at the teen’s sudden concern. And the fact that she wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Tell me more about these sources. Did they have anything else to say?”
Blaze stood, rinsed her cup, and headed for the door. “Just be careful, OK?”
“Wait. Do you need a ride to school?”
“Nah. A friend picks me up.” She walked out, slammed the door behind her, and clumped down the steps in her black combat boots.
Eve wandered down to the marina, trying to figure out how to get the prickly teen to tell her what else she knew. She found Pop behind the cash register, ringing up coffee and bait in equal measure. She exchanged greetings with several of the local captains, then leaned over the counter and kissed Pop’s clean-shaven cheek, just as she always had. Her conflicted feelings didn’t mean she didn’t love him.
“Morning, Pop. Did you get some sleep?” As soon as she asked, Eve wanted to smack her forehead. His bloodshot eyes answered the question. “Sorry. I’m sure you didn’t. Me either. But Mama will be home soon. This is just a minor setback. She’s tough.”
Pop didn’t respond, and Eve stopped talking. She sounded like a cheerleader at a losing game, all false merriment and extreme optimism. But it beat the alternative: voicing the fear that Mama was slowly losing the battle. Not an outcome she was willing to consider.
“I’ll stop by the hospital this morning to visit Mama. Do you need anything while I’m out?” She tried to ignore the dark circles under his eyes, the way his clothes hung on him. He looked like a man who didn’t have much fight left, and that made her heart hurt.
“No thank you. Sasha and Jesse will be here later to take over the marina so I can go by the hospital. I am hoping Rosa will be released today.”
Eve didn’t know how to respond, so she gave him a hug and went back up to the house, swallowing her tears while she tidied up the kitchen.
A few minutes later, she grabbed several empty canning jars to take water samples and headed for her rental car, praying baby Glory was finally responding to the treatment.
As she walked up to her car, she saw a white square on her windshield. She scooped it up—damp from the humidity, so it must have been there a while. She opened the envelope and found a note, written in black marker by a bold, probably masculine hand.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Eve reread the note three times. Someone was threatening her? Seriously? In Safe Harbor? Sure, things had gotten ugly when Sasha and Jesse got in the way of drug dealers—which still blew her mind—but this was crazy. She shook her head, determined to dismiss the whole thing, when she noticed something on the ground by the driver’s side door.
She crouched down and picked it up for a closer look. Despite the humidity, a chill slid down her spine when she saw what it was.
Someone had left her a children’s toy, a stuffed cat to be exact, with a noose tight around its neck.
Anger flashed, quick and hot. Nobody was going to scare her away. If someone felt threatened enough to leave a note and this creepy warning, then the odds of Glory’s blue baby syndrome being caused by deliberate contamination just went way, way up. Which only served to make her more determined than ever to ferret out whoever was responsible.
But first things first. She pulled out her cell phone and called the Safe Harbor police.
Nick Stanton stepped out of his official SUV and headed her way. Eve stopped pacing long enough to give him a bear hug. “Thanks for coming, Nick. How’re things going?”
Nick glanced uneasily toward the marina and shrugged. She couldn’t blame him. It was taking some time for all of them to get used to the idea that Nick was really Tony, Mama Rosa and Pop’s biological son, something they’d all found out just before Sasha and Jesse got married. The fact that the people he’d loved and grown up with had actually stolen him had to be a tough pill to swallow. It couldn’t have been easy to find out everything you’d ever known or believed about your life was a lie.
She handed him the note she’d found on her windshield, which he placed in a clear plastic evidence bag. Then she showed him the cat, which she’d dropped right where she found it. He put that into a larger bag, then pulled out his little pocket notebook, taking notes. “What time did you go to bed last night, Eve?”
“I’m not sure. I fell asleep on top of the covers. But the last time I checked, it was after one.”
“And what time did you get up this morning?”
“Not until after seven. But Pop and the local fishermen were up long befor
e then. If they’d seen anyone, I’m sure somebody would have said.”
He speared her with a gaze. “Unless one of them did it.”
Eve swallowed. “Or that.”
When Sasha and Jesse had been in danger, Eve had been safely in DC, getting updates from Sasha by phone. She hadn’t been in town to feel the disbelief, the uncomfortable sensation that she didn’t really know the people she’d been around for years. Would one of them have done this? Why?
She shook her head. In this case, the why was patently obvious.
“Can you think of anyone who wants you to leave town?”
“You heard about little Glory Daughtry in the hospital? Blue baby syndrome?”
Understanding, then annoyance, lit his eyes. “You’re investigating.”
She shrugged, careful not to say too much. “Let’s just say Celia Daughtry asked me to see what I could find out.”
“You should stay out of this. Let the health department handle it, if there’s a problem.”
Eve planted her hands on her hips. “Is the health department investigating? Because so far, I’ve not heard a thing about it.”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of. But if there’s cause for concern, they will.”
“Not good enough. That baby is fighting for her life. Someone has to find the source of contamination and stop it, if that’s what is causing the problem. If this is deliberate, someone has to make sure those responsible are found and punished.”
“Which is exactly what the Florida Department of Environmental Protection will do—if the health department finds a problem.” He speared her with a look. “Right now I’m more concerned about someone leaving threats on your car.”
She waved that away. “I’ll be fine. Little Glory is the priority.”
Nick stepped forward until they were nose to nose. “My priority is someone threatening you. Stand down, Eve, and stop stirring up trouble while I do my job.”
“Fighting for justice is not stirring up trouble.” She stared him down. “I won’t let anyone scare me off.”
“And I don’t want to see you hurt. Lie low while I figure out what’s going on. I mean it.”
Eve opened her mouth, closed it, narrowed her eyes at him. He wasn’t bluffing.
Well, neither was she.
She watched Nick stride back to his SUV. Pop hurried over from the bait shop to intercept him, and she saw Nick’s whole demeanor change. Where he’d been tough and firm with her, now he seemed tentative, unsure. She couldn’t hear what they said, but after a few minutes, she saw Sal stick out his hand. Nick nodded once, shook it, and then climbed into the cruiser and drove away.
Eve pulled out her cell phone and dialed the county health department. “Hello, I’d like to order a water test on a private well.” She rattled off Celia’s address.
“Is there a problem with the well, ma’am?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Your name, please? Are you the homeowner?”
“Eve Jackson. And, ah, no. I’m a friend of the family.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson, but you’ll need to have the homeowner call us directly.”
“She’s at the hospital. Her baby is sick.”
“If the illness is somehow related to the well, ma’am, I’m sure the doctor will order all the appropriate tests. Thank you for calling.”
Eve stood for a moment, thinking, before she pocketed her phone. She’d head to the hospital and get Dr. Stern to do exactly that.
But first, she had another stop to make.
Chapter 4
Cole wasn’t surprised to see Eve’s rental car bump down the main drive to the ranch. His only question was why it had taken her so long to get here. He’d expected her to show up pointing her finger in his face at the crack of dawn. He pushed his Stetson back on his head and leaned on the split-rail fence as he watched her little car approach, kicking up dust as she went.
He wandered over, opened her door, and watched her head snap up in surprise. “Morning, Ms. Jackson. What brings you out this way?”
He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to decide how to respond.
She stepped out of the car, wobbling a bit in a pair of ridiculous high-heeled boots before she yanked off her sunglasses and aimed those gorgeous brown eyes his way. “You know why I’m here. I’m trying to figure out what caused Celia’s baby to get sick.”
“I heard they’ve ruled out a heart condition.”
She looked surprised. “Where did you hear that?”
“I have my sources.”
“Therefore, there has to be another cause.”
Though he already knew the answer, he asked anyway. “Agreed, but what does that have to do with me?”
She huffed out an annoyed breath and swept a hand to indicate the piles of manure peeking out from behind the barn. “Manure is one of the most common sources of contamination.”
He crossed his arms. “It can be, if it’s not treated properly. I have mine bagged and sold for fertilizer, which, when spread in small quantities, won’t cause any harm.”
She leaned closer, though from her height, she still had to crank her neck way back to glare at him. “I’m not worried about the little bags sold to consumers. I’m worried about what that manure mountain is leaching into the ground right here.”
He tried to hide his grin at her word choice. “Manure mountain?” At her scowl, he sobered. “I’m not laughing at you. I know this is serious. I take it seriously. But your contamination is not coming from my manure mountain.”
“How can you say that?”
He turned. “Come with me, Ms. Jackson, and I’ll show you you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Ten steps into it, Cole looked over his shoulder and realized she couldn’t keep up in her high-heeled boots. He waited for her to catch up, then slowed his steps to match hers as he led her around behind the barn.
As they rounded the corner, Buzz marched up to them. “What’s she doing here again?” he demanded.
Cole ignored the man’s tone. “Eve, this is Buzz Casey, a good friend of my father’s. Buzz, this is Eve Jackson. She’s trying to figure out why Celia’s little one is sick, so she’s checking out our manure mountain.”
Buzz’s jaw dropped open, and he snorted. “Whatever has made that little dumpling sick, it sure as sugar ain’t from our manure. Crazy Cole here done poured enough concrete to build three houses, and piled the manure on top of it, just so’s he could keep ‘contaminants,’ as he calls ’em, outta the aquifer.”
Cole watched Eve look from one to the other. He raised a brow. “That answer your question, Ms. Jackson?”
“Show me,” she demanded, and turned toward the steaming pile.
Cole led the way as Buzz muttered behind him. “Craziest dang fool idea I’ve ever heard of.”
She stayed safely out of range as Cole went to the edge of the pile, grabbed a shovel, and cleared enough to show her the concrete slab beneath.
When she nodded, he led the way back toward her car, away from the stench. Here in Florida, with the heat, there was no way to hide from it. You learned to ignore it.
“Glass of lemonade, Ms. Jackson?” he asked when they neared the ranch house.
“No thank you.” She paused, then added, “Though I appreciate the offer.” She slipped on her sunglasses and took a moment to scan his property, then looked over toward the Daughtry property in the distance. “Maybe it isn’t your manure, but something made that baby sick, and I’m betting it’s coming from here, since your land is the closest to the Daughtry place. You need to have your wells tested.”
Cole said nothing, just watched her climb into her little rental and bump back down the driveway. He intended to have his wells tested right away, but not on Eve’s say-so. If the problem was coming from Sutton Ranch as a result of something his father had—or hadn’t—done, he needed to find out immediately. And then take care of it before Eve found out and caused an even bigger
problem than when she’d set all the Sutton Ranch calves free years ago.
As Eve drove back to Safe Harbor, she tried to figure out how to get Cole’s wells tested.
She pulled out her phone to see if she could change Mark’s mind about helping her, but before she could dial his number, it rang. She saw her boss’s name and debated letting it go to voice mail, but at the last second, she answered. “Hello, Mr. Braddock.”
“It’s a fine kettle of fish you’ve stirred up, Jackson. Woodward is not letting this go. He says he didn’t buy your namby-pamby apology. Now he’s threatening a defamation-of-character lawsuit against the company and against you personally. He also somehow managed to get himself appointed to that task force instead of Milton, so Milton isn’t happy with us, either.”
Eve didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Don’t tell me, Jackson. Tell Woodward. Call him and convince him you mean it. Make this go away, or you’ll be looking for another job.”
Eve gritted her teeth. The congressman was dirty and trying to deflect attention by throwing the spotlight on her. “Yes, sir. I’ll call him.”
“Today, Jackson.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.” She didn’t think he’d actually fire her, but just in case, she dialed Woodward’s number. The man’s secretary put her call right through.
“If you’re calling to apologize again, Ms. Jackson, you’d better make it good. I have no patience for meddlers who spread lies about upstanding leaders like myself.”
Eve wanted to gag at his pompousness, but instead she said, “I was mistaken, sir, and I apologize most sincerely. Again.”
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
“The paper has already printed our formal apology, and I wanted to reiterate mine, again. I’m not sure what else to say, sir.”
The silence lengthened. “See that you stay out of my business from now on.”
Click.
All things considered, that had gone better than she’d hoped. While Eve debated her next move, her cell buzzed with a text from Blaze. Mama Rosa is having a hard time. Go by the hospital.