by Freya Barker
While Kendra places her order, I suddenly remember the focus of my earlier attention and lift my eyes to the backsplash. Nothing, the table she was sitting at is empty. I turn on my stool to look to the parking lot where the little blue Honda I've seen her drive was parked. My eyes hit two soft brown ones staring at me through the diner window, before they turn away and I see her head duck down as she slips into her car. I'm up and off my stool by the time she backs out of the parking spot and have my eyes peeled when I see her turning west.
"Be back. Add it to my tab," I tell Arlene as I pass by her followed by a "Later, Kendra." With a final chin lift to Seb I'm through the kitchen and out the back door where my truck is parked.
Kim
"Did you drop off that envelope with the Walkers yesterday?"
The phone was ringing the moment I walked into the office this morning. Martin Vedica, my boss, was in San Antonio for a few days to meet with some important clients coming up from Mexico. I wasn't privy to the nature of the business. Martin had said it was only a preliminary meeting, but he was nervous before he left yesterday and handed me the envelope. He insisted I drop it off on my way home, which is kind of strange, since I live just on the outskirts of Cortez, and the Walkers are in the opposite direction, about half an hour out of town. But whatever. I fully intended to drop it off last night, but when Kerry showed up after closing her bookstore next door, and insisted on taking me out for a celebratory drink for my birthday, I totally forgot about the envelope in my purse. Until now.
"Uh, yes." Dammit, I hate lying but I really don't want to piss him off any more than he's been these last two months. He's been irritable and I’ve had to walk on eggshells when approaching him. It started with the 'big deal' he mentioned to me before Christmas. One that would put his name on the map, in his words. That's when he started aggressively pursuing these properties down past Kelly's Place - Bed & Breakfast out on County Road G. He had me do title searches on all three farms, but other than that has kept me out of the loop. A couple of 'new clients' have come through the door in the past two months, none of whom he wanted me to have anything to do with. Other than bringing them coffee. But I've picked up words and snippets of conversation here and there and it's had my hair on end. Enough so that I don't really want to make a wrong move and piss him off. So I lie and he buys it.
"Excellent. I'll be back after the weekend. Probably Monday if I can get things rounded up here." By the time he hangs up after I reassured him, he sounds to be in a much better mood. I spend the next hour replying to phone messages and emails. By the time I'm done, it's almost noon. I grab my keys, my poncho and my purse and lock up. I'll use my lunch hour to quickly grab something on the way to the Walker farm.
Kerry has mentioned the diner in Cedar Tree before. Her husband Greg has taken her there a few times. He works for a contractor out of Cedar Tree, Mason Brothers. Said the food there was exceptional compared to what you'd expect from regular diner grub. So when I drive past the sign that says 'Arlene's Diner,' I make the split second decision to have a quick lunch first.
The place is pretty quiet, but it's still early on a Friday. Only a few occupied booths and a single man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail sitting at the counter with his back to me. A nice back from what I can see; wide shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, all barely contained in the long-sleeved shirt he's wearing. A thick parka is draped over the stool beside his. The moment his head turns toward the door, I avert my eyes and duck down in the shawl of my poncho. I pick a booth by the window so that I have my back to the door and can observe the man at the counter. For some reason he makes me feel uncomfortable. Shaking off the feeling, I grab the menu which is tucked between the bottles of condiments on the table and start leafing through. Everything looks really good, but when the waitress walks up to my table I order a plain chicken salad and water, by rote. Dammit. I can't seem to get the sound of disparaging voices out of my head when I even think to order something off the menu. I've heard them my whole life and even yesterday, on my birthday, when Kerry brought over the pretty cupcake along with the 'Life starts at 40' birthday card, I had a hard time eating it. The encouraging and almost hopeful smile on Kerry's face made it impossible to refuse, so I took a bite. It tasted like sawdust and I had to battle my gag reflex. When she dragged me out to the Lounging Lizard afterwards, I managed to sneak away to the bathroom, to purge the contents of my stomach and immediately felt ten times better. Good enough to order a small chicken salad and a glass of wine. The first didn't make Kerry happy but the second did and we ended up having a good time, mostly filled with Kerry's excited chatter about a shipment of new books which had arrived earlier in the week. That's how we met, Kerry and I. My Kindle is attached to me. In fact I have a spare one at home, in case this one craps out. Occasionally though, I love the feel of a real book in my hands and the first time I ventured into Kerry's Korner, the smell of printed paper in the bookstore made me feel right at home. As did Kerry herself. And even though I am still hesitant to share too much of myself, I've come to trust her. Kind of.
The arrival of my salad at the table interrupts the inconspicuous looks I'm directing toward the counter. More specifically, toward the tall, built and gorgeous man at the counter. I catch him in profile only once, the rest of the time his back stays turned, but that one glimpse is enough to give me butterflies. He's beautiful. With his long hair pulled back from his face, a prominent brow, prominent nose with a bit of a bump, strong square jaws covered in stubble and the most luscious mouth I've ever seen on a man. It's obvious he's at least part Native American, which shouldn't surprise me in this area that is rich with indigenous cultures and a few of the larger reservations.
"Can I get you anything else?" The tall blonde waitress asks, one eyebrow raised. I shake my head and drop my eyes to my bowl of salad, feeling chastised for looking.
"No thank you. Just the bill please."
"Be right back," she says, turning around.
From the corner of my eye, I see her deliver a plate piled high with what I'm sure are sweet potato fries and I immediately look at my own lunch with some regret. Looks good enough, with a few interesting additions of beans, corn and cheese, but still, I shove most of that to the side and eat a few tentative bites of lettuce and chicken. When the tang of a chipotle dressing hits my taste buds I wish I could eat more.
The waitress comes back with the bill. "You can pay at the counter," she says. But with one look at the cash register right beside the man, I know I want to avoid it.
"Can I just pay you now?" I ask, looking at the receipt and fully prepared to hand over my twenty dollar bill even though the total doesn't even come to ten. It's worth not having to be embarrassed when I sidle up to the counter. A man like that would never even look twice at the likes of me.
The woman stands by my table, a weird expression on her face. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I scramble to dig my wallet from my purse. "Here," I say, handing over the twenty. "No need for change."
She shrugs and mumbles, "thanks," before turning away.
Just then the door opens and another statuesque blonde walks in and right up to the man with the ponytail. This one seems younger and is very curvaceous. Not only that, she smiles huge when she talks to him. Figures. I'm even more grateful now that I don't have to walk over there to pay.
I force down a few more bites and take a sip of my water, but whatever appetite I had is gone. I manage to pull on my poncho, tuck my purse under my arm, and slip out the door while the two blondes and the dark ponytail chat it up.
Once outside, I dig for my keys in my purse when I feel a tingle at the base of my neck. Lifting my head, my eyes zoom in on the man who is now looking straight at me through the window. Deep black eyes hold me hostage long enough to fumble with my keys and the lock. The moment I open the door, I see him begin to move and tear my eyes away, ducking into the car.
-
The drive is actually very pretty along County R
oad G. Some snow remains on the landscape, even though it's late March. I push thoughts of those dark eyes as far away as I can. Instead I look around me to see if the sights are able to give me any clues as to why Martin is almost rabid to purchase these properties. I have control of the filing system, except for the one cabinet in his office which houses his 'personal stuff,' or so he says. I've seen some of his recent visitors walk in with rolls of drawings and folders of papers which didn't make it out of the office with them. I assume they're still there. Somewhere. Maybe I'll use the time he's away to get a closer look. In the meantime I'll keep my eyes open. Nothing stands out other than that it's beautiful country.
The moment I pass the B&B, I start slowing down. I know the Walker's driveway is coming up on my left. The only other time I've been here was before the other two farms were sold through Martin. He'd sent me out to drop off an offer on the property, one that wasn't well received by the Walkers. In fact, I'd had a shotgun shoved in my face when they discovered why I was there. My boss is a manipulative bastard and had sent me, knowing they would be less than receptive, but had hoped a woman would soften them up a little. Not so much with the Walkers. The moment I identified myself, Ezhno Walker slipped inside the door and came out, his shotgun already cocked. I didn't hesitate and backed away when he yelled at me to leave. When I got back to the office I took Martin to task, but he waved it all off and said Ezhno Walker was no longer functioning at full capacity. That's why, when he asked me to drop off an envelope, I'd questioned him but he assured me they were expecting it.
I recognize their mailbox coming up and prepare to make my turn when a dark colored SUV comes barreling out of the driveway and turns left, speeding off toward the Utah border. Huh. I'm still wondering what kind of idiot would come blowing out of a driveway that fast, when I pull up to the old log farmhouse. The front door is open and just outside it, Mrs. Walker is on her knees, leaning over her husband. I get out of the car and at the sound of my door closing her head whips around. I can see blood coming from her nose. What the hell is going on?
"Mrs. Walker, are you okay?" I hurry over and upon getting closer, I can see Ezhno's face is bloodied too. I rush up the steps, but Tiva, Mrs. Walker, scrambles to her feet and rushes inside. Dropping down on my knees beside Ezhno, I immediately feel for a pulse, and it's there. Faint but there. A sound I've heard once before has me lift my eyes to the doorway where Tiva stands, this time it's her holding that same damn shotgun.
"Get off our property," she hisses.
"But Mrs. Walker, Tiva, your husband needs help. You're both hurt."
"You here to see if your goons did their job?"
I'm shocked at her words. "My goons? I don't know what you mean? Who are you talking about?"
The blast from the shotgun hits the dirt behind me, but the sound deafens me instantly and has me rearing back on my ass. She cocks the gun again and aims it at me.
"Get off our property!"
Not about to argue with an unmistakably irate woman toting a gun, I crab walk backward on hands and feet until my body hits the car. I scramble around it to the driver side and slip in, trying furiously to get it started. The moment it catches I floor it and skid around the barnyard, my tires spinning before they find traction. Just as I come up to the end of the driveway, a silver pick up truck pulls in. I manage to slip past it and I'm already turning back in the direction of Cedar Tree, planning to stop at the first opportunity so I can call the sheriff's office, when it hits me.
The man from the diner was behind the wheel.
CHAPTER TWO
Mal
I can't have been that far behind, but by the time I hit the road the little blue Honda was gone. I know she turned left, in a westerly direction, so that's where I'm heading. I'm going at a good clip when I pass Kelly's Place and suddenly I know where she's gone. The Walker place is up ahead and I'm just turning into the driveway when her blue compact comes streaking at me, barely avoiding my front left fender. Kimeo is at the wheel and other than a quick flick of her panicked eyes my way, she is focused on getting away. Fast. I intend to turn and follow her back toward town, where she's headed as if the devil is on her heels, when I spot the Walkers on their porch.
-
"She already called it in," Drew Carmel, our sheriff’s voice comes over the line.
The moment I spotted the state of the poor elderly couple, I had my phone out and was calling for an ambulance. Two things occurred to me right away; Tiva had her shotgun propped beside the door and there was no way in hell that small woman had time to do this kind of damage. I left barely minutes behind her.
"Have a description of two vehicles from her; one a dark-colored, large SUV and the other one sounds a lot like yours. I'm thinking she has no clue who you are, right?"
"Pretty sure that's accurate. Tiva tells me when she heard her husband yell from the front of the house, she stepped out onto the porch. There were two guys working him over, one holding him and the other beating on him. Apparently she ran to them without thinking, and was rewarded with a few hits. One of the guys told her they should "take the offer" or they'd be back. They took off and not a minute later, according to her, that girl from Vedica's office drove up. Scared—and I'm guessing a bit confused—she pulled the shotgun on her.”
"Christ. What would drive someone to beat up on a couple of seniors?" Drew sounds disgusted.
"Money," I offer as an explanation for most of the world's evil.
"Right," Drew says matter-of-factly. "I'm going to pay Ms. Lowe a visit. Also I'll have a word with her boss, see whether he can shine some light on the sudden interest in those properties."
"He's out of town," I volunteer. "Left yesterday."
"I have a feeling you and I need to sit down as well. You can enlighten me on what your involvement is in this."
"Got no problem with that, but don't be surprised if Gus shows up with me."
"GFI business?" Drew guesses.
"You got it."
"Fuck me. Right. Check with your boss and call me to set up a meet."
At that moment, the sound of sirens can be heard from the road and a sheriff's patrol car, followed by an ambulance, appear between the trees lining the Walkers’ drive.
"Troops are here," I tell Drew.
"I can hear. I'll let you go and give my deputy a head's up before he gives you a hard time. Call me as soon as you can." With that he hangs up.
-
It's almost three in the afternoon before I get to Gus's house. The GFI offices are housed in an addition Gus and his wife Emma built a couple of years ago. Emma is a doll, a phenomenal cook and takes good care of anyone who walks through her door. That's why, despite the fact I downed lunch only a couple of hours ago, my mouth waters the moment I open the door to her "Come in!" and am assaulted with the smell of fresh baking. How Gus doesn't have a gut on him, I can't figure.
"Hey Mal." Emma beams her smile at me from the kitchen, her domain.
"Emma." I bend down and give her a kiss on the cheek. "What've you got cookin'?"
"Baking actually. The weekend order for the diner." She indicates the counter filled with a variety of pies and pastries. Seb at the diner is a fantastic cook, but Emma is the baking queen. She's baked all the sweets for the diner since she moved to Cedar Tree. Helps that she's Arlene's best friend.
"Smells great."
"I have muffins in the oven. Five more minutes and I can take them out. I'll come bring you guys some warm ones."
"You're the best." I give her a hug, noticing how soft and comfortable she is in my arms, when I hear a growl behind me and Emma starts to chuckle.
"Unhand my wife, will ya?" Gus is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.
"Oh, keep your socks on, Gus," Emma says as she slips out of my arms and heads straight for her husband's. His face softens instantly with a look I see all too often these days from my brother as well. Caleb, just like most of the others in our little comm
unity, is happily in love. The last vestiges standing are Neil and I. The rest of the hard-assed males seem to have succumbed.
"Have an update on the farms," I prompt and Gus's eyes snap to mine.
"Heard something over the scanner. Neil's in the conference room. I'll be right in," he says with a tilt of his head down the hallway. I take that as an invitation to go ahead. By the time I open the right door, Gus is already behind me.
"Hey Neil."
The dark blond head bent over a keyboard snaps up. "Mal."
Not sure what's up but since the open house when Naomi's clinic opened, Neil's had a burr up his ass the size of a fist. Quite a change for someone who is generally fun loving and friendly. I asked him once what the fuck was up and he assured me nothing. Still the burr hasn't dislodged. I can feel the negative energy flowing around me.
Saying nothing, I pull out a chair and sit, while Gus does the same on the other side.
"What've you got?"
For the next half hour or so I give them an update on my findings, ending with a detailed description of today's events. Gus makes notes and Neil taps away on his keyboard, seemingly uninterested but I know he's dutifully doing his job. Whatever issue he has with me, he's a great investigator and a man I trust to have my back when it comes down to it.
"Drew wants me to come in. He knows I'm working on something and with the assault on the Walkers, he wants to know what."
"Do it as soon as possible and see if you can catch him before he heads over to the Lowe woman. Be good if you could listen in. I'll be calling Chief Nakai to let him know what's going on.”Gus leans back in his chair and looks over to where the youngest GFI employee has dropped all pretence of working and is instead following our conversation keenly.
“Neil? You start digging. Look for anything on the three farms in question and the surrounding areas. I mean anything; history, previous owners, who is listed as current owner, survey permits—anything that pops up, I want a report on. Also find me the owners of the two farms already sold. I know they were gone before anyone got wind of what was going on." Gus pushes up from the table and I do the same across from him, just as Emma walks in, a tray balancing on her walker. Emma is disabled, but that doesn't seem to slow her down one bit, and Gus doesn't even see it.