Deadly Harvest

by Marissa Shrock

  “What if he’s not on a date?”

  “Then it’s a win for you.”

  “What did Brandi say?”

  “You’re stalling.” She pursed her lips.

  “Answer me.”

  Ashley huffed. “We didn’t talk about it, but I know how you both think. For as brash as you can be, Georgia Rae, when it comes to men, you can be a real cream puff. You need to toughen up and fight.”

  Cream puff? “Easy for you to say. Every time I meet a guy, he meets the love of his life, and it’s never me. I’m their good luck charm, remember?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Or you quit fighting because you’re afraid of what might happen if you win.”

  “Whatever. You should’ve let Brandi come in,” I muttered.

  “Nope. You two think the same way, and it’s time to stop.” She pointed to the door. “Go out there, say hi to Cal, and go back to Nick and act like you’re having the time of your life.”

  “But Cal’s date is pretty,” I whined. “He’s probably going to marry her.” I hated how easily the excuses were coming out.

  “You’re going to die an old maid. I just know it.” She reached up, put her hands on my shoulders, and turned me toward the mirror. “Look at yourself. Gorgeous. I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t tell you that chick out there has nothing on you. Besides, he could be in the middle of the worst date ever. You don’t have the facts!”

  The door opened, and Brandi rushed in. “Your date left.”

  Well, that was a first, though I had it coming for asking about Nick’s alibi. I’d certainly never pulled that stunt myself. I hadn’t even asked a friend to call in the middle of the date to stage a rescue, and I could’ve—at least once or twice. “But we already ordered. Are you sure he didn’t go to the restroom?” I whispered.

  She shook her head, and her curls bounced. “He called the waiter over and told him to cancel the order because he had an emergency. He paid for your appetizer and drinks.”

  I gave a half-hearted shrug for my friends’ benefit. I wasn’t interested anyway, so as long as Cal didn’t realize what was going on, it didn’t matter.

  Ashley smirked. “Well, your problem is solved. You can go say hello to Cal.”

  “I’ll think about it. Let me work up my nerve.” My friends exchanged doubt-filled glances, and on the way out to reclaim their table, I overheard Brandi ask Ashley what she’d meant by the problem being solved. I powdered my shiny nose, hung on to my clutch for dear life, and marched out into the dining room.

  I picked up my Coke and the bruschetta from Nick’s and my table before taking a seat with my friends and making sure to keep my back to Cal.

  “Are they looking?” I asked.

  “No.” Ashley took a drink of water.

  Dean the Waiter showed up with Brandi and Ashley’s entrees. Then he looked at me, and I could see his wheels turning.

  “Yep. I was over there.” I pointed at our abandoned booth.

  His eyes twinkled as if he’d put together what had happened. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Will you put my order of chicken manicotti back in? And bring their checks to me when it’s time.” I motioned toward my friends.

  “Of course.” He hurried away.

  I held the plate of bruschetta out to my friends. “Help yourself. I’m not hungry.”

  Brandi put down her fork and studied me. “Georgia, Ashley’s right. Go say hello to Cal.”

  Brandi was supposed to be my ally, and now she was abandoning me? “Hey, did you know that Nick is your former student?”

  “Really? Wait—don’t tell me his last name.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them in triumph. “Vogler. He was a good kid.”

  “You got it.” I gave her a thumbs up.

  “I wonder why he didn’t say anything.”

  “You’re stalling. Again.” Ashley pointed her knife at me and then turned it on Brandi. “And you’re getting played.”

  “I’ve got to work on being more subtle.” I winked.

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “Go.”

  “Fine.” I took a deep breath and thought of what I’d told Kelsey earlier. I needed to deal with my own insecurities. “Do I look okay?”

  “Perfect,” Brandi said.

  I got up and pondered Life Lesson #83: Never cave in to peer pressure.

  “Hey, Cal!” Did I sound too perky? Probably.

  “Georgia!” He cleared his throat.

  I hitched my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m having dinner with some friends.”

  “Right. Uh, this is Lindsay.”

  She looked me up and down in a way that clearly communicated I should get lost as soon as possible, so I stuck out my hand and forced her to shake. “Nice to meet you. This is a great restaurant. Have you tried the bruschetta? It’s magnificent. I had it for the first time tonight. I sure wish I could cook like that.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and Cal shifted.

  Put a sock in it, Georgia. “And how do you know Cal?” I asked.

  “His cousin Kelsey introduced us.”

  “Good for you.” My voice sounded too squeaky to pass off as normal. A few cuss words pinged around in my head. Why couldn’t I play it cool? I forced a smile and turned to Lindsay. “Enjoy your evening.”

  “You did what?” Brandi’s eyes flashed.

  Later that night, we’d come back to my house and Ashley had gone home since she had to be at work early the next day.

  Brandi curled her fingers into a fist. “Georgia, why would you think it was a good idea to set me up with a guy who tried to make out with you in the middle of a live theater production?”

  Stifling a sigh, I curled my feet up on the sectional sofa and gazed around my terribly outdated living room. Why hadn’t Ashley been able to keep her mouth shut? “Jon has a ton of fantastic qualities. Plus, he felt bad about the kiss miss.”

  “Ugh.” She scowled and launched a throw pillow from the other end of the sofa.

  The pillow smacked my face, thanks to her years of playing and coaching softball. I deserved the hit, but she could’ve lobbed it more gently. I rubbed my stinging cheek. “I don’t have to give him your number. I wanted to see if he’d be open to the possibility.” I held the pillow up anticipating another throw because she had one more projectile at her disposal.

  She gripped the other throw pillow. “Now I’m the closed-minded one?”

  “I never said that.” I needed to salvage this—fast. I got up, marched into the kitchen, yanked open the pantry door, and tossed a box of shortbread cookies at Brandi, who’d followed me.

  She crossed her arms, and the box clattered onto the floor. “Shortbread won’t fix this.”

  I picked it up, ducked back in the pantry, put the shortbread back on the shelf, and held out a package of chocolate sandwich cookies. “Will these?”

  “Maybe.” A flicker of amusement danced in her eyes as she took them.

  “I’ve got nothing else but milk to offer.” I held up my hands in surrender.

  She snorted a laugh and ripped the container open. She stuffed a cookie in her mouth and pointed at the refrigerator.

  I took the hint and poured a glass of milk, which she drained seconds after I handed it to her.

  It was a good thing we didn’t drink alcohol.

  “You don’t understand.” Brandi sat at the table, took another cookie, and pointed at the milk.

  “You’re right.” I refilled her glass and poured one for myself. “I don’t know what it’s like to be a widow. Or what it’s like to wait a decade to find the love of my life only to have him taken away after a few years of happiness.”

  When tears filled her eyes, she ducked her head and traced her fingers on the wood grain of the table.

  I was hitting too hard. “I do know what it’s like to be lonely.” I joined her at the table. “To feel like life is working out for everyone but me. To wonder if I’ll ever have a family of my own, or if I’ll have to be the spinster aunt who
spoils her nieces and nephews and hopes that someday they’ll take care of me when I’m old because I won’t have any children to do it.”

  Brandi swiped her eyes and dunked her cookie in the milk. “You think Jon could be the answer to my problems?”

  “No. We need God for that.” I fished a cookie from the package. “But Jon’s a solid guy who might be a step in the right direction.”

  She finished her second round of milk and slammed the glass against the table. “Fine. Text him my number.” She pointed at me. “But if this goes badly, it’s your fault.”

  The next morning, I yawned, pulled my bathrobe closed, and hurried down my driveway to get the newspaper. Angry clouds hovered, blocking the rising sun, and my favorite weather guy had said we were set to get the first snowflakes of the season. Fall could stick around another few weeks as far as I was concerned.

  As soon as I grabbed the paper out of the box, a black sedan pulled into my driveway. I glanced down at my flip-flops. I wouldn’t be able to run very far if the boogeyman or a mafia boss had arrived to take me away.

  The driver rolled down the window.

  Kelsey—clad in her scrubs. Must be something important if she was stopping here before going home to sleep.

  “Good morning.” I gave myself a pat on the back for not saying—or doing—what I wanted in the moment. Considering I was not yet caffeinated, it was a major feat. “Where’s your Jeep?”

  “In for an oil change. This is my mom’s car.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She bit her lower lip. “When Cal moved here, I gave him Lindsay’s number.” Her blue eyes pleaded. “I had no idea he’d meet you when I did it. I’m sorry. I’m so mad at him for going out with her.”

  “Why?” I shoved my hand in my bathrobe pocket. “He can’t date me since he’s investigating J.T. Besides, I’ve been out with other guys lately.”

  She bit her lip. “You and Cal would be good together.”

  “Cal’s a grown man. He can date whomever he wants.” My sluggish brain was having trouble putting all the pieces together, but the cold air was starting to wake me up. “Wait—did he put you up to this?”

  “No. He texted that his date didn’t go well and that he ran into you. I took that as a hint that I should intervene.”

  I did a mental happy dance before suspicion cut in. What if she was trying to gather evidence to use against me?

  “Did it bother you that he was out with Lindsay?”

  “I didn’t throw a party when I found out.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

  For this.

  “There’s another reason I stopped by.”

  Seriously? I forced a pleasant expression onto my face. “What can I do for you?”

  “I know we talked about me seeing a counselor, but I have another idea that could benefit both of us.” She rubbed her thumb against the steering wheel. “I’d like you to be my prayer partner.”

  Good grief. I surely hadn’t heard her correctly, but her pleading expression indicated she was serious—or a seriously good actress playing a joke on me.

  I wracked my brain and tried to dredge up a single instance when I would’ve displayed behavior that could possibly make this poor girl think I’d be a suitable prayer partner.

  I opened my mouth to say no.

  Say yes.

  I grasped the terry cloth of my robe and held on for dear life. Was God really telling me to accept?

  Yes.

  But why? For a second I had a vision of my mailbox as a burning bush, and I fought the urge to giggle. But, I knew better than to burst out laughing and hurt this poor girl’s feelings. “Okay?”

  I couldn’t quite keep the question out of my voice.

  She clasped her hands. “Oh, thank you.”

  “Do you mind if I ask why me?”

  “Not at all. See, this spring before I graduated college, a chapel speaker challenged us to find a prayer partner. I’ve been praying for the right person.”

  “Me?”

  She nodded and stared at her lap. “When we first met, I was so intimidated. You had this cool farmhouse, you’re gorgeous, and you’re thriving. You have a heart for God—except for that one time in the church restroom, but I totally antagonized you. You’re where I’d like to be in ten years.”

  “Single?” We might need to have a serious talk about that one. And that she thought my eighties throwback house was cool.

  She shrugged. “I need to be happy with who I am before I can have a successful relationship.”

  More doubts and excuses ping-ponged in my brain. How could God be asking me to do something like this? Brandi would be far better equipped to handle this situation. I’d probably warp Kelsey for life.

  Trust me.

  I wrapped my arms around my waist. “I’m free tonight. How about you come over for…uh…popcorn and sparkling water?”

  “I love popcorn.”

  Finally. Some common ground.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When I walked back into the house, my phone was ringing, and I grabbed it right before it went to voicemail.

  “Georgia, this is Nick Vogler.”

  “What do you need?” I fought to keep my tone civil while I poured a cup of coffee into my Sammy the Squirrel mug.

  “I want to apologize for running out on you last night. I shouldn’t have gotten so offended about the alibi question.”

  “Apology accepted. No hard feelings.”

  “I want to make it up to you.”

  “You don’t—” I dumped a generous amount of cream into the mug.

  “I’m not expecting you to go out with me again. I just want to make sure Tara’s killer is caught, and you seem like you really want to help. Would you like to look for clues at Tara’s apartment while my mom and I are packing it up today?”

  I froze with Sammy the Squirrel halfway to my mouth. “Absolutely. When?” I congratulated myself for keeping the glee out of my voice.

  “We’re starting in about an hour. I’ll text you the address.”

  As soon as I disconnected with Nick, I remembered promising Brandi that I wouldn’t run around by myself, so I gave her a call. Since she was on fall break, she agreed to join me at Tara’s apartment. There was the added bonus that her presence might freak Nick out since he’d confessed to crushing on her.

  I used the business card Nick had given me to call his boss and confirm that he had indeed been working the morning of Tara’s murder.

  While I drove through Brandi’s winding subdivision, I began second-guessing my meeting that night with Kelsey. If Evan found out we were praying together, would he feel like I was taking her side over his?

  As soon as I pulled into Brandi’s driveway, she came out of her brick tri-level.

  “Thanks for letting me tag along.” She patted the cognac-colored hobo handbag that I’d helped her pick out last month. “I’m packing heat, by the way.”

  “I feel so much safer.”

  “You should. You need to get your own permit to carry.” She fastened her seatbelt.

  I despised handguns, and my hatred had multiplied after Daddy had been shot. “I’ll keep you as my bodyguard.” I pulled out of her driveway.

  “I can’t always be around. I’ll go with you to buy a gun, and I’ll even teach you how to use it.”

  Right now, that was the last thing I wanted to think about. I cleared my throat. “So, I had an interesting encounter this morning.” I told her about Kelsey’s request and how I felt like God wanted me to say yes.

  “God sometimes asks us to do things that we think are strange.”

  I turned off Main Street onto Pearl and parallel parked between a red SUV and an orange hatchback. “What if I heard wrong?”

  “Then God will use this situation for good.” She hopped out of my truck. “Don’t expect me to talk you out of this.”

  I grimaced and slammed the door. “Was it that obvious?”

  “Yep.” Brandi stop
ped on the sidewalk and pointed to the two-story Victorian house with a wraparound porch and a few stained-glass windows. “I’ve always liked this place. Did you know a doctor was murdered here in the early 1900s, and they never caught the killer?”

  I shivered. “No.” There sure was a lot of that going on around Wildcat Springs. Leave it to Brandi the history buff to bring up an eerie detail. “And you like the place?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t say I wanted to live here.”

  Someone had divided the house into apartments, and Tara’s was on the second floor. “Nick’s text said the entrance is in back.” We walked around the house and found the stairs that led to the door that Nick swung open before I could knock.

  “Hey, Georgia.” His gaze landed on Brandi. “And Miss Stedman.” Understanding dawned in his expression, and his cheeks tinged pink. “Come in.”

  “It’s actually Hartfield, but you’re allowed to call me Brandi.” We entered the living room with gorgeous wood floors. They had already removed the furniture.

  “Right.” His tone made it clear that’d be too big a hurdle to jump.

  “What’re you up to now?” she asked.

  “I work for the Wells Corporation. Network administrator.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “I wish you’d said something last night at Salvador’s,” she said. “I always enjoy talking to former students, but you all change so much, it’s hard for me to recognize you as adults—even though I remember you.”

  “My ex was waitressing there, and it was awkward…” He glanced at her left hand. Brandi had finally taken her wedding ring off last year.

  Merciful heavens. Could life get any weirder?

  He pointed to the kitchen where a woman with fuzzy gray hair and a rhinestone studded denim jacket puttered around the kitchen. “Anyway, that’s my mom Sheri.”

  Sheri dropped a can opener in a box, turned, and waved. “Hello.”

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I said. “I hope it’s okay that I brought Brandi.”

  “That’s quite all right. My son owes you after walking out on your date.” She looked me up and down and then shot her son a dirty look before turning back to the drawer. “He’s always been too easily offended. Not sure I’m ever gonna be a grandma,” she muttered as she tossed a turkey baster into the box.