It was bedlam at Ted Morrison’s farm. Firstly, vehicles choked the road, most of them belonging to strangers. People wandered down the middle of the road in a casual manner without due care for oncoming traffic.
Giving up the idea of pulling up outside the paddock gate, Richard parked as close as he could, pulling onto the shoulder of the gravel farm track behind a dusty sedan. The little dog jumped from the SUV when he opened the passenger door and trotted ahead of him, her head going from side to side as though she were trying to take in everything.
The sun shined brightly, kicking quite a punch despite the early hour. A soft breeze blew as he walked to the gate leading into the wheat field. The wind rattled the seed heads, knocking them together in a soothing melody. Better than the rap crap the Sloan youngsters played on their car stereos at full volume when they raced down the main street.
Ted Morrison manned the gate, letting visitors inside his wheat field. He lifted his right hand in a casual wave. “Richard. Thought you were on holiday?”
“Had to come back early. Luke has his hands full down at the station so I volunteered to check out the circles and give a report.”
Richard scanned the small sign by the gate. Entrance to Crop Circles—$5. He turned back to Ted, but the man was busy extracting money from a couple of townies. The female component of the couple wore pink high heels. How she thought she’d manage to walk through the wheat fields with those stilts on her feet puzzled him. He noticed Ted’s brows rise, almost disappearing beneath his woolen beanie. Richard grinned. Ted had worn a home-knitted beanie, no matter what the season, for as long as he could remember.
The dog wandered up and pressed its nose against the woman’s tanned calf. She let out a piercing shriek and parted company from the land before her spike heels poked into the earth again to ground her.
Richard clicked his fingers, attracting the dog’s attention. “Killer. Over here.” Thankfully, the dog obeyed and stayed close.
“Do you have gumboots?” Ted’s frown narrowed on the woman’s delicate shoes.
“Oh no,” the woman said, a shudder of distaste racking her narrow silk-clad shoulders. She jerked her heels from the dirt, before she and her husband wandered through the gate and headed in the direction Ted had indicated.
Ted cackled. “Bet you five dollars she falls flat on her face.”
“Don’t be silly. I’d lose my money.” Richard stood aside for yet another group to pay their admission fee and file through the wooden gate. Business was booming.
“Is there anywhere to buy a tea or coffee?” an elderly woman asked.
“The Sloan Women’s Division have set up a stall near the crop circles,” Ted answered. “Best scones and raspberry jam in Sloan.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, eyeing up Ted in clear speculation.
Richard winced. At least the woman hadn’t chosen him to ogle. He’d far rather have Hinekiri checking out his assets. The thought made him pause as a quite different vision danced through his head—naked bodies writhing together on a soft double bed. His double bed. No escaping the identity of the woman. Her blonde hair and beautiful violet eyes told the story. Unfortunately, that was all he could see, his imagination unable to fill in the dots.
“Richard? You okay? You have a weird look on your face.” Gruff concern shaded Ted’s voice.
To Richard’s consternation, heat gathered in his cheeks. “The Women’s Division has set up camp here too?” The dog let out a questioning woof.
His change of subject didn’t work, but then he hadn’t expected a reprieve. Richard had gone to school with Ted Morrison and they’d been friends ever since. “You’re either sickening for something or you’ve met a woman.” Ted studied him intently and a smirk bloomed on his weathered face. “It’s a woman.”
“I’d better go and have a closer look at these circles. I presume you’ve got someone stopping the public from walking all over them. Come on, Killer.”
“Strange name for a dog.” Ted scrutinized him until Richard wanted to fidget. “You have. It’s a woman!”
“Catch you later,” Richard mumbled, intending to beat a quick retreat.
“That will be five dollars, please.”
Richard came to an abrupt halt. “What?”
Ted held out his hand. “Five dollars admission fee. Someone damaged my wheat crop. I have to recoup my losses somehow.”
Richard traded stares and finally gave a grudging nod. He pulled a five-dollar note from his pocket and thrust it at his friend. Probably some smart-assed kids having fun at the town’s expense. All he needed to do was figure out how they’d made the circles and things around Sloan would start to return to normal. He strode the well-trodden path through the wheat field with the dog at his heels.
The buzz of excited chatter told him he was nearing the scene of the crime. Richard brushed past a yellow-and-orange floral sun umbrella and a crowd of people drinking from paper cups and eating scones. The Sloan Women’s Division was doing a brisk trade. The dog wandered off to investigate the wheat over near the Women’s Division’s table. He noted most people were walking around the first of the circles, kept behind a yellow tape by Ted’s sons and daughters.
“Keep the line moving,” one of Ted’s sons said in a carrying voice.
Fascinated and wanting to see what all the fuss was about, Richard fell into step, squeezing into a gap between a teenager and a plump elderly woman who was leaning heavily on her walking stick.
The wheat circles were about the diameter of a medium-sized house, but they weren’t completely circular, which made Richard frown. They were more oval than round. Any fool knew crop circles were round. Why would a jokester go to the trouble of playing the elaborate hoax and not do a proper job? Part of the ground bore scorch marks as if a fierce heat had burned the wheat. Ted was lucky his whole field hadn’t caught fire.
The distinctive click of a shutter button made Richard wince and memories of this morning return. He hoped he didn’t find himself on the front page of the Gazette clad only in his boxers. That Marcie Montgomery had a tough, determined streak when it came to her job. And she liked to expose people. Richard prayed he didn’t feature tomorrow morning. Richard ducked behind a family to escape the press of bodies. He weaved in and out of the crowds to inspect the other circle. It was pretty much the same but there was a slight impression in the soil as though the force of impact had been greater. Richard didn’t believe in UFOs but he wasn’t sure how the local kids had managed such an elaborate prank.
Tired of the jostling and pushing and shoving, Richard made his way back to his SUV. The dog was waiting beside the Women’s Division stall and Julia Brompton, his old teacher, was slipping it pieces of scone. That dog knew exactly which side its scone was buttered. He whistled. The dog glanced over at him with total disinterest and rubbed against its benefactor’s legs instead of answering like a well-trained pooch. Julia Brompton gave her a whole scone. The dog placed it on the ground, licked the woman’s hand then picked up its bounty and trotted over to him. Shaking his head, Richard carried on to the gate.
The people were still entering the wheat fields at a steady rate, chatting together with great animation. Excitement shimmered in the air.
“What did you think?” Ted Morrison asked when he approached.
Richard dragged a hand through his hair. “If it’s a trick, it’s well executed.”
“Yeah.”
“See you later, Ted.”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the woman. I’ll worm the details out of you down at The Thirsty Cricket.”
Richard ignored the taunt and lifted a hand in casual farewell. Interesting. Ted Morrison didn’t believe a UFO had made those impressions in his wheat field either. Although he hadn’t said as much, it was there for Richard to see in his expression. Richard couldn’t blame him for milking the situation for all it was worth.
When he reached the SUV, Richard opened the door for the dog and she leapt in, settling do
wn to eat her scone.
He switched on the ignition and pulled out onto the track. “I don’t know how you managed that food. They would have made me pay.”
The traffic into town was heavy. Richard snorted when he passed a bunch of hippies, their colorful panel vans emblazoned with peace slogans. The two vans belched clouds of smoke and Richard hurriedly wound up the window. Looked as if everyone had come to town for the show. Hordes of people, mostly strangers, loitered outside the town café and the pub. The outside tables were full and staff scooted in and out, bearing plates of food and dirty dishes. Thanks to the purported UFO sightings, it appeared the business people of Sloan were doing a brisk trade.
He turned into the small alley that ran behind the police station and parked. “You wait here,” he told the dog. Killer must have understood because she settled down, rolling up in a tight ball on the passenger’s seat. Smiling, Richard climbed from the SUV and walked around to the front of the police station since he’d left his set of work keys at home on his dresser.
The inside of the station was as crowded as the main street of Sloan. Mrs. Bates, a local busybody, was making her presence felt, her booming voice cutting across the chatter each time she demanded to see Luke. Tony, who was manning the desk, looked ready to bolt and the din in the tiny waiting area was enough to give a man a headache. There wasn’t a spare seat in the house and they were two deep at the reception desk. At least with this many bodies inside the police station, it wasn’t as easy to see the peeling paint on the walls.
Richard pushed his way through, trying to avoid Esmerelda Bates. No such luck. The woman didn’t miss a thing.
“Richard Morgan. About time. I want to see someone in charge.” She pushed her bulk through the waiting people and planted her feet in front of him.
“I’m on holiday, Esmerelda. You’ll have to talk to Luke. I’ll tell him you’re waiting.” Richard dodged to the left and escaped before she had time to demand he take care of her personally. Esmerelda had always been a busybody even at school and her mind was as narrow as the alley between the police station and the flower shop next door. It always amazed Richard that she’d caught a man given the sharpness of her tongue and her propensity to gossip. Of course, she’d alienated her son because he’d dared to walk a different path than the one she’d decreed. Yep, escape was definitely the wisest course.
Richard strode past the reception desk and out to the rear offices without looking back. He opened the door leading into Luke’s office and quickly slammed it shut again, cutting the roar of the crowd.
“Bad out there.” Richard shook his head. “There were so many people at the crop circles, the Sloan Women’s Division have set up a stall. Ted Morrison is selling tickets at his gate.” He sank onto a chair in front of Luke’s desk.
“That’s the least of our problems.” Luke rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a sheet of pain tabs. He swallowed them down dry. “Dad, can you take Janaya and Hinekiri to Robbie’s Car Parts? I was going to drop them off, but the situation has escalated. I have to see Mrs. Bates. According to Tony, she’s refusing to leave.”
And his son looked excited about that, Richard thought.
“As long as I can stop in at the company first for ten minutes or so,” Richard said, standing again.
Hinekiri sidled up to him, grasped his arm and fluttered her gorgeous eyes at him. She smelled of lemon soap and the outdoors. Richard wished they could spend time alone to give him a chance to ask her out for dinner. Call him old-fashioned, but he didn’t intend to ask a woman for a date while in his son’s presence.
“Janaya can stay with you, Luke,” Hinekiri said. “Richard and I can handle the shopping.”
Richard grinned. Good idea.
Janaya straightened abruptly, frowning at them both. “No. Absolutely not. I’m coming with you. What if something happens to you? What if the Torgon arrive?”
Richard’s good humor fell away, replaced by a frown. Who were the Torgon? Hinekiri was in danger? He opened his mouth to ask but Hinekiri spoke.
“All right,” she said in a snippy tone. “I’d like to point out I’ve been managing okay on my own for some time. You sure know how to rain on a girl’s parade.”
“Huh?” Janaya peered out the small office window. “Rain? It’s not raining.”
“Never mind,” Luke said. “Just go. Out the back way. And take this.” He unlocked and retrieved a gun from his bottom drawer. After handing it to Janaya, he stood and circled his desk to open the door that led to the corridor and the rear entrance of the police station.
Richard followed Luke and the two women. Why had Luke given them a gun? Were they on witness protection? What the hell was going on?
Luke stopped on the steps without warning.
“Told ya they’d try and sneak out the back,” a short, skinny man crowed. He shoved a fluffy microphone in Luke’s face. “Can you comment about the aliens? Is there any truth they have green suction caps all over their faces?”
Richard groaned. “For God’s sake. Will you people get a life?” He shoved past, using his superior height to shoulder the reporter out of the way.
“Do I know you?” The reporter’s gaze was on Luke.
“I don’t think so.” Luke’s reply was brusque. “Dad, I’ll see you back at the house.”
Richard nodded and escorted Hinekiri past the waiting reporters.
“I do know him!” the reporter shouted. He grabbed the photographer by the shoulder. “Turn the camera on and keep filming until I tell you to stop.”
Richard halted, turning around to see the good humor bleaching from his son’s face. Bloody reporters. Why couldn’t they leave Luke alone? The courts had acquitted him of all charges, but the press continued to do a hatchet job on him.
“I have it.” The man clicked his fingers. “You’re Luke Morgan. Married to Victoria, daughter of Sir Robert Paykel.”
Anguish flitted across Luke’s face before it blanked.
“No comment?” the reporter said in an arch manner.
Luke turned his back to speak with Janaya, ignoring the battery of questions and demands from the reporter.
Richard led Hinekiri to his vehicle, and Janaya joined them shortly after. The dog unwound from a ball and jumped over into the back. Hinekiri hopped in the front and clicked the seat belt home, her violet eyes sparkling with excitement while Janaya joined the dog in the back.
Richard waved at Luke then started his vehicle. He backed out of his parking space and drove past the reporters with a scowl on his face. Parasites. “What exactly are we looking for at Robbie’s Car Parts? Did Luke tell you it’s a junkyard?”
“Perfect,” Hinekiri chirped.
“What sort of vehicle parts are you searching for? What make of vehicle?”
Hinekiri beamed. “A silver one.”
Richard glanced across at her, checking to see if she was joking. Nope. Didn’t look like it. He held back a snort. He liked his women on the intelligent side. Perhaps a date wasn’t such a good idea. Richard sighed, trying to take the sting out of his disappointment. Maybe it was for the best since she seemed a little too independent for his tastes. The thought made him frown. Funny, intelligent and independent usually went together. He glanced across the cab to check her expression to see if she’d been kidding about the silver vehicle. She caught him and sent a saucy wink in his direction. His suspicion deepened. Was she making fun of him?
He pulled up outside the offices of Fancy Free Limited. “I’ll be ten minutes.” Richard made it back in twenty, his cheeks warm from the discussion of the latest condom model the company was testing. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, trying not to think about condoms and Hinekiri in the same sentence.
“No problem,” Hinekiri chirped, sending him a wink.
Ten minutes later, Richard pulled up outside the wreckers. Robbie had stacked large numbers of rusted, buckled car bodies in piles. Some looked as though they might topple in a strong wind. At the far end, car bodies sa
t in neatly compressed squares. A conveyor belt towered above them, ready to move the wrecked cars along to the compressor. At present, it was idle.
“Ready? I’ll introduce you to Robbie. Guess I better hunt him out first. Be back in a minute.” Richard felt her gaze on his back when he strode away. He really did prefer a woman who thought independently. After Felicity, he needed…
Richard pushed aside the thought as disloyal and concentrated on Hinekiri instead. How could he have been so wrong? Despite the attraction arcing between them, a relationship wouldn’t work since she was just passing through.
Richard couldn’t find Robbie. The man wasn’t in the small tin shed office so Richard decided to rejoin the women. He spotted them checking the scrap at closer quarters. “Robbie must have popped out to the bank. Or he might be at the café since he’s sweet on the owner.”
The dog started barking, attracting his attention. Killer growled, the hair standing to attention the length of her backbone. Richard gaped in the direction the dog growled.
“Hell’s bells. Get a load of the pansy purple suits those blokes are wearing. They belong at a fancy dress party.”
Richard couldn’t help staring. The pansies looked plain weird. They were tall and had long hair, hanging loose to their shoulders. It was a startling white blond. Their skin was pale too, their faces seeming to bleed into their hair, making it appear as if they had no face. The hair on Richard’s arms and legs prickled in warning, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Their pale white eyes reinforced the nothingness and the sneers on their faces were plain mean.
Hinekiri trotted up to him, not appearing to notice the purple suits. She tugged on his sleeve, dragging him in the opposite direction. “Richard, there’s a sheet of metal I found over there. I could do with some help.”
“I’m the man for the job.” Richard caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He whirled around to get a better look. A series of harsh clicks sounded from the purple pansies. They fanned out and stalked toward them, shiny silver weapons extended in front of their chests. They pointed at Hinekiri.
Hinekiri Page 3