I didn’t think now was the time to add that I’d seen some sort of exchange transpire between the two of them. The paramedics conferred briefly. “Blood pressure and heart rate elevated,” one of them said to the other. “Signs of dehydration. His temperature is over a hundred and three.”
Was Lucas suffering from sunstroke and dehydration, rather than a drug interaction? After all, I only saw the two men exchange something. I never saw Lucas ingest any substance.
“Could be heatstroke,” the driver concurred. “I’ve seen it happen lots of time in the fields under an August sun. The young ones don’t realize they’re in danger until they get too confused to do anything about it.”
“Is he having a seizure?” I worried Lucas might not make it to the hospital in time.
“The tremors are likely due to his high temperature.” The EMTs opened up a case and removed ice packs. Next, they positioned a shaking Lucas onto the gurney, laid ice packs on pulse points, then strapped him securely. Feeling as unsteady as Lucas, I went with the others as we followed the EMTs back to the ambulance and watched as they loaded him into the vehicle.
While they were doing this, a sheriff’s car pulled up. When Deputy Atticus Holt emerged from the driver’s side, I gave an audible sigh of relief. His eyes widened when he saw me. No doubt he was thinking, Why is Marlee Jacob once more in the middle of trouble? I was simply glad to see a friendly face, especially one belonging to such a capable law enforcement officer.
“If anyone has contact information for his family, please give it to us,” the driver of the ambulance requested. “And what is the young man’s name?”
“Lucas Hendriksen.” Wyatt held out his phone so they could copy the numbers. Holt briefly spoke with the EMTs before they finished loading Lucas in the vehicle and sped away.
As the wail of the siren filled the air, the ambulance disappeared from view. Holt turned to us. “I’m Captain Holt, head of Investigative Services at the sheriff’s department. We got a call about someone being injured by a harvester machine. What happened? How did Mr. Hendriksen fall in front of the harvester?”
I let the crew and driver tell their versions of events. As they each described Lucas’s earlier erratic behavior, I began to think heatstroke might be the likely culprit. After all, the day was sunny and in the eighties. And the harvesting team had probably been in the field for hours.
After the work crew answered Holt’s questions, the driver looked at Wyatt. “How about if we finish up this last row and then I’ll give everyone a break?”
Wyatt nodded, and the driver and harvesting crew made their way back to the harvester. I’d forgotten that the driver and crew worked for the O’Neill family. This gave Wyatt the final say as to what they should do next.
Holt smiled at me. “Surprised to see you, Marlee. Although since this is a blueberry farm, I assume you’re here on business.”
“Not really.” I looked over at Wyatt.
Holt instantly grew suspicious. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, there’s a problem and I might as well be the first to say something because she”—Wyatt gestured in my direction—“is determined to make my life miserable.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. We came here to speak with your parents, not the police.”
“Yeah, right,” he said with a scowl. “More lies.”
Holt held up his hand. “What is going on?”
“She thinks I stole from her store last night,” he said. “And here I was being nice by bringing her a box she’d left behind at the fair. Which shows you how on the ball she is. She leaves the room for one minute—”
“Longer than that,” I told Holt. “I went into the kitchen to get mini cheesecakes for him. I wrapped a few for him to take home to his family, so I was back there several minutes. During that time, he went into the cashbox on the counter and stole two hundred dollars.”
“Don’t forget she left a big box of store items back at the fair. Do you really think she remembers how much money was in the cashbox? Give me a break.”
“Why didn’t you report this as soon as it happened?” Holt asked me.
“I didn’t want to cause more trouble for the O’Neill family. His uncle died a few days ago. I also thought it might be a onetime thing. That he took advantage of my being careless enough to leave the cashbox out, which I deeply regret. Only I’ve learned Wyatt has been stealing for some time: from Tess at Oriole Glass, Denise at Tonguish Spirit Gallery—”
“They can’t prove a thing,” Wyatt interrupted with disgust.
“And he was charged with stealing from Brouwer Jewelers. His sister Courtney said he did community service for that one.”
Holt threw Wyatt a jaundiced look. “Mr. O’Neill, how old are you?”
“Old enough to know my rights.”
“I haven’t accused you of a crime,” Holt replied.
“Well, they have.” Wyatt crossed his arms and threw us a challenging look. “Only Marlee and her friend Pocahontas can’t prove anything.”
“All I want is my two hundred dollars back,” I stated. “And for his parents to put a stop to this behavior in the future.”
“Do you wish to press charges?” Holt asked.
A pickup truck beeped at us, coming to a stop a few yards away. Denise and Courtney jumped out of the backseat, followed by Cara and her husband Brody. Everyone looked agitated.
“What’s going on here?” Brody possessed the manner and movements of a bantam rooster, accentuated by his thick crop of red hair.
“Denise got a call from Marlee saying there had been an accident. Then Wyatt called to say Lucas collapsed from heatstroke and had to be taken to the hospital.” Cara rushed over to her son and felt his forehead. “Are you okay, Wyatt? You’re not feeling overheated, too?”
“I’m fine.” He pushed her away. “Lucas is the one who’s on the way to the hospital, not me.”
“He’s right,” I said. “Denise and I got here in time to see Lucas and Wyatt jump off the harvester. And the young man did seem shaky.”
“I keep telling the boys to wear hats and keep themselves hydrated.” Brody shook his head. “Looks like I’ll have to make it a rule. We sure as hell don’t need our harvesting crew collapsing from the heat.”
“Dad, the last time a worker got heatstroke was three years ago,” Courtney reminded him. “And Lucas knows the signs of dehydration. He must have ignored them.”
“We should go to the hospital right now,” Cara said. “I’ll call Lucas’s father and have him meet us there. I hope the boy only got too much sun, but what if it’s more serious?”
“Lucas will be fine.” Wyatt now looked bored with the whole discussion. “He probably partied too hard last night and wasn’t up to a day of harvesting.”
Denise stared at him. The disapproval in her eyes would have given me pause had I been Wyatt. “Lucas may have been affected by something else.”
“What do you mean?” Holt asked.
“As Marlee said, we arrived just as Wyatt and Lucas jumped off the harvester. And yes, he seemed unsteady. What she didn’t mention was that we saw some sort of transaction between the two of them.”
“Lying hag.” Wyatt spat at her.
“Shut up, Wyatt,” his father said in a rumbling voice.
“Wyatt took something out of his jeans pocket and handed it to Lucas,” Denise went on, unperturbed by Wyatt’s outburst, “who then handed something to Wyatt.”
“What did it look like?” Holt took a small notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.
“Hard to say. But whatever they exchanged was small enough to be placed in their back pockets.”
“She’s making it all up.” Wyatt protested. “They both came here to stir up trouble. Maybe you should ask why they have it in for me.”
“What’s going on here?” Cara said. “I don’t understand.”
“Wyatt’s stealing again, Mom,” Courtney said in a stage whisper.
“What the hell!” Brody t
urned to his son. “If you’ve stooped to robbing people once more, I swear on my mother’s grave I’ll let them throw you in jail this time. See if I don’t!”
“Brody, please!” Cara took her irate husband by the arm. “Let’s hear what Wyatt has to say. This could all be a misunderstanding.”
“None of the others were,” Brody replied. “And I don’t want to hear one more excuse for his behavior. He’s a grown man. High time he started acting like one.”
Courtney snorted.
“Should you tell them why we’re here, Marlee, or should I?” Denise asked.
“Since I’m the one who came to you about all this, I will.” Taking a deep breath, I told the group how Wyatt stole from my store last night, and how I had learned about his other attempts at Denise’s gallery and Oriole Glass.
Brody stared at his son with contempt. “You stole two hundred dollars from Marlee? Just how low are you?”
“Of course you believe these bitches rather than me!” Wyatt shouted back.
“Shut your mouth.” Brody jabbed his finger at his son. “You’re already in enough trouble.”
“It can’t be true,” Cara protested. “Marlee, you must be mistaken. You probably counted the money wrong.”
“Your son stole the money,” Denise said. “And he tried to steal an expensive bracelet from my gallery only last month. Who knows how many other people he’s been stealing from?”
“Bad enough he steals from the shop owners, but we can’t have him robbing tourists,” I added. “This has to stop.”
“You’re right about that,” Wyatt said. “This lying needs to stop. Starting with you two.”
“We also shouldn’t forget Lucas and why he may have collapsed.” Denise ignored Wyatt’s latest outburst. “It could have been drug induced. We’ve heard that Wyatt has been selling prescription drugs to high schoolers for several years.”
I had to hand it to Denise. When she was determined to see justice done, nothing stood in her way. Courtney looked as impressed as I was.
Wyatt swore at Denise, while Cara appeared close to tears. “That all happened a long time ago, back when he was a teenager,” she explained. “He didn’t think anything was wrong with selling it. After all, the doctor prescribed the Adderall for him. I’m sure he didn’t know it was illegal to sell the pills to the other kids. And he was just a kid himself.”
“Stop, Cara.” Brody shook his head. “Our son is not a kid any longer. We’ve looked the other way too many times.” He stepped closer to Wyatt, who jostled from foot to foot, as if searching for a chance to escape. “Are you still selling drugs? I want the truth.”
Wyatt jutted his chin out. “No. I’m not selling drugs.”
“Mr. O’Neill, I need you to turn out the pockets of your jeans,” Holt said in a crisp tone.
“I think you need a warrant for that.”
“I know that I don’t.” Holt stared back at him.
“Fine.” With a long-suffering expression, Wyatt turned out his pockets, which proved to be empty except for the right back pocket. That held a thick wad of folded twenty-dollar bills.
“Is this payment for any drugs you sold to Lucas this afternoon?” Holt asked.
“No.” Wyatt looked like he was about to say more, but decided silence was the wiser choice.
Cara turned to Holt. “Officer, I admit my son may have done some foolish things when he was younger—”
“He broke the law,” Brody reminded her.
“Yes, but he learned his lesson. I assure you that he no longer sells drugs nor does he steal.” Cara shot me a beseeching look. “Marlee, I’m sorry that you think Wyatt stole from you, but I know he didn’t. He’s changed. He’s grown up.”
I’d never seen a person so desperate to ignore the truth. My heart ached for her. “I’m sorry, too. But he took the money. You need to admit that because you’re right. Wyatt is grown up. And he may start committing even worse crimes.”
“Shut up!” Wyatt snarled at me.
“Would either of you like to press charges against Mr. O’Neill?” Holt asked.
“Will it do any good?” Denise sighed. “The incident in my store occurred a month ago, and I should have reported it back then. Marlee might have a better case.”
Cara grabbed my wrist. “Marlee, please let us handle it within the family. This has been a terrible week, and I don’t know how much more stress I can take.”
I looked over at Brody, who I suspected was the only one able to put the fear of God into his son. “Brody, I’m not here to cause trouble. But Wyatt’s stealing has to stop. And he needs counseling.”
“Screw you,” Wyatt said.
“Shut your mouth, Wyatt. Or I’ll shut it for you.” Brody turned to me. “I’m docking two hundred dollars from Wyatt’s next paycheck so the family can pay you back for his latest theft.”
Wyatt swore under his breath.
“I apologize to both you and Denise for my son’s behavior,” he went on. “And if he refuses to go to a counselor, he will have to pack his bags the next day and leave this property, never to return.”
Cara gasped.
“I mean it, Cara,” he said in a grim voice. “I’m done.”
“Calm down,” Wyatt muttered. “Everyone is making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Theft is a big deal,” Holt said. “You’re lucky Ms. Jacob and Ms. Redfern aren’t pressing charges. As for your transaction with Lucas Hendriksen, if illegal substances are found on his person while at the hospital, that, too, will be viewed as a big deal.” He paused. “And a crime.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m such a blueberry fiend. They’re my favorite fruit.” I looked down at the fresh berries cradled in my palm. “But after this blueberry season, I may switch my allegiance to raspberries. Too many bad memories.” I tossed the berries into my mouth.
Denise smiled. “If you eliminate berries that are tied to bad memories, you may run out of varieties soon. Don’t forget what happened during the recent strawberry and blackberry seasons.”
“You’re right. Not even murder should knock blueberries off my number one slot.”
“Strawberries for me.” Denise held up her strawberry milkshake. “My grandmother made wojapi all summer, using whatever berry was in season. I loved her strawberry wojapi best.”
“That’s a Native American sauce, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Tasted wonderful with a slice of fry bread. But I’m fond of blueberries, too.” Denise finished off her milkshake. “When will your sheriff friend arrive?”
“He said he’d be here soon. I certainly hope so. This day seems fifty hours long.”
Denise and I had already closed our shops and now sat at one of the bistro tables near the Berry Basket ice cream counter. Business dramatically picked up after dinner, which meant neither of us had the opportunity to dwell on what had happened at the O’Neill farm. With the CLOSED sign posted on our doors and our employees sent home, Denise and I couldn’t wait to do likewise. But Kit Holt called to say he had information that we might be interested in about what had occurred at the farm.
However, it wasn’t interest that Denise and I felt about the O’Neills: it was concern. Yes, Wyatt was a dishonest, unlikable young man, probably doomed to messing up his life every step of the way. Yet his parents loved him and suffered over his insolence, his reckless behavior, his lies. I didn’t have to be a parent to sympathize and pity them. I hoped for everyone’s sake that Brody could get his thoughtless son on the right track. Only I feared Wyatt possessed neither the will nor the intelligence to do so. A sad business all the way around.
“I wonder if Deputy Holt has learned what happened to Lucas.” Denise gave a last noisy slurp with her straw to finish off the shake.
“I’m sure he has. I met him last month when he was working on the murder connected to the Blackberry Art School. He’s a good guy.”
“Attractive too. Curly-brown hair, big brown eyes. A little on the husky side.”
“It’s muscle, not fat. Kit works out at the gym four days a week.”
Denise lifted an eyebrow. “You’re on a first-name basis and you know his workout schedule. I thought the two of you kept throwing glances at each other when we were on the farm.” She laughed. “Don’t look so guilty, Marlee. You’re engaged, not dead. You’re allowed to find other men attractive.”
“It’s more than that. Kit’s kind and smart and funny. And he listens to me. I wonder what would have happened if I’d met him before Ryan and I began dating.”
“Are you having second thoughts about marrying Ryan?”
“Third thoughts, too. I’m worried I can’t trust him.”
She laid her hand over mine. “Without trust, any love between you will die. That much I do know.”
“What’s your opinion of Ryan?”
“I don’t know him well enough to judge. He seems easygoing. Cute, sexy. Responsible and hardworking from all accounts. Am I wrong?”
“No. Except I’ve learned he’s also like an iceberg—most of him lies hidden beneath the surface.”
Denise frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
A rap on the glass door made us jump. I got up to let Kit Holt in.
“Thanks for waiting until I could get here,” he said. “But I wanted to let you know what happened at the hospital. First, Lucas Hendriksen is fine.”
“Thank God,” I murmured.
“Because you’d seen an exchange between the two men, we searched Lucas’s clothing and found a plastic bag containing pills.”
“What kind of pills?” I asked.
“The long version is 3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine. The drug is also known as crystal MDMA, Ecstasy, Molly.”
“Isn’t Ecstasy a club drug?” Denise looked worried.
“Yes. The drug induces euphoria. Only Lucas didn’t experience much euphoria today. The doctors found traces of MDMA in his system. When he recovered, he admitted that he took a pill earlier. One of the drug’s side effects is overheating, which was exacerbated by him working in the sun. Other side effects include chills, fast heartbeat, high blood pressure. It explains his erratic behavior.”
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