Corn Field Surveillance: A Short Story

by Alexa Grace



  Corn Field Surveillance: A Short Story

  by Alexa Grace

  Copyright Alexa Grace 2011

  This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

   

  Copyright 2011 by Alexa Grace

  License Notes

  Cover design by Alexa Grace.

  ISBN: 978-1-4657-8697-5

  Corn Field Surveillance: A Short Story

  A short story by Alexa Grace

  From the novel Deadly Offerings

  Chambers Restaurant was a popular watering hole located across from the courthouse and had the best ribs in town. It was close to one o’clock and as usual, it was filled with the lunch crowd of attorneys, courthouse employees and cops.

  Michael watched as the tall blonde woman entered the bar. She spotted him and sashayed up to the bar. She was wearing a red wrap dress that highlighted her curves, which were not unnoticed by a table of men sitting near the door.

  When she reached Michael, he stood to shake her hand, which meant this was business.

  “So you need my services again?” She pulled up to the bar stool and crossed her legs.

  “Yes, Douglas Investigations is on the top of my list for private investigation. How are you, Frankie?” He gazed at her for a moment. “This one is a little different from your assignments in the past.”

  “How different?”

  “Still like apple martinis?”

  “Ah, you remembered.”

  While he looked for the bartender, she checked him out noting how good the man looked in jeans. Usually, they met in his office and he wore nothing but suits. He looked good in a suit. But looking at him in these body-hugging jeans, her heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  “I have a witness I want you to keep an eye on.”

  He waved the bartender over and ordered an apple martini for her and another Coors for himself. She watched him, wondering who the witness was who had him drinking his lunch.

  “Homicide case?”

  “Yes. I have reason to believe the killer is targeting her.”

  “Who’s after her? Who’s your suspect?”

  “Don’t have one,” said Michael.

  “Can’t you put her in protective custody?”

  “No, there’s no money to do that.”

  This meant he was covering her expenses on this assignment himself. Again, she wondered who the witness was. “Understand. What do you want me to do?”

  “Tail her and cover her at her house. I don’t want her out of your sight. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, I get it. What’s her name?”

  “Anne Mason. She owns Golden Acres Farm.”

  “Isn’t that the woman who found Rachel Mitchell’s body in her corn field? I read the story in the paper.”

  “That’s her.”

  “Are you telling me that Rachel’s killer is now after Anne Mason?”

  “Yes.”

  “When do you want me to start?” She couldn’t read his expression. She couldn’t tell if he was pissed or just really worried about this girl. She also wondered exactly what his relationship was with her. She’d been sending him some pretty clear signals for years that she was interested, but nothing.

  “Now.” He chugged the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the bar. “Right, freaking now. And keep me updated.” He slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar. She watched him leave, and then pulled her cell phone out of her purse and googled Anne Mason.

  Michael was in his car for the drive home. He hadn’t gone far, before he realized he hadn’t heard from Frankie.

  “Frankie, what’s going on?”

  “Plenty. Which part do you want to hear about, the field mouse that tried to crawl up my pants or what your witness is up to?”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m at her farm in the cornfield. I can see her right now through binoculars. And if I see another field mouse, I’m going to shoot its head off.”

  “Why are you in the field?”

  “Had to hide my car and this was the closest I could get to the house.” She paused as she adjusted her position. “She’s got a visitor. Arrived about an hour ago.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Just ran his plates. It’s Lane Hansen. If you want a description, he looks like he could play quarter-back for the Indianapolis Colts.”

  “Name sounds familiar.”

  “It should. He’s a deputy. Works for Sheriff David E. Miller.”

  Frankie heard a click then looked at her phone. He had hung up on her. Nice mood he was in today. She picked up the binoculars and peered through them.

  Michael gritted his teeth. Just when he thought this crap day couldn’t get worse. Lane Hansen? Yeah, his name was familiar all right. He was one of the deputies eyeing Anne the day she found the body. Shit.

  The next thing Frankie saw from her binoculars was Michael’s red Escalade EXT racing down the lane toward the house. What the hell is going on?

  He parked behind the blue Dodge Ram he assumed belonged to Hansen. He leapt from the truck and was about to slam the door when he heard gunshots coming from the back of the house. He dove into the front seat and grabbed his revolver from the glove box.

  When he reached the back yard, he saw Anne pointing her pink Glock at a round, black and white paper target mounted on a fence. Her arms were extended, feet spread, hands holding the gun pointed at the target. He watched as Hansen moved behind her, smoothing his hands down her arms to adjust her aim. His jaw clenched. The sight of Hansen touching her made him want to rip his head off.

  Anne shot at the target nearly hitting the bull’s eye.

  “Hey, not bad, Anne!”

  She turned to say something to Hansen when she noticed Michael leaning against the side of the house. Even from the distance, she could see his expression was a perfect storm of jealousy, anger and testosterone. He beamed a take-no-prisoners glare at the deputy’s back.

  “Hi, Michael. Did you bring the legal papers with you?” That was the only excuse she could invent for him being there. Damn it. He was supposed to stay away. The last thing they needed was to be the focus of deputy gossip.

  Hansen turned around and waved. He watched Michael as he headed toward them.

  “I took Lane up on his offer to teach me to shoot.” Anne explained, keeping her tone friendly.

  “I can see that.” He accepted Hansen’s offer to shake hands. Then he gritted his teeth and put his hands on his hips.

  “How are you doing?” He gazed down at Anne, looking very pissed. The way his eyes moved down her body told her, he wasn’t just talking about her aim.

  “Okay. No bull’s eyes yet, but some close hits.”

  “Let’s see you try it again.” He watched as she faced the target with a wide stance, two-handed grip and steady aim. He moved in back of her as Hansen had done, but when he touched her, his hands possessively gripped her waist.

  “Take a deep breath and fill your lungs with air. Hold it. Then shoot.” He ran his hands down her hips. Something very warm was shooting through her system. She nearly gasped when he tugged her against his hard body. “Are you ready?”

  “What?” The heat of his body made it hard to focus. She tried to wiggle out of his grip without calling attention to it. No luck.

  “When you’re ready to shoot, do it.”

  She shot a round and the target flipped wildly. Hansen
ran to the fence to get it. He held it up and called, “Bull’s eye.”

  Changing the subject and activity seemed like a good idea, so she told Michael about Rick Davies’ security assessment.

  “Glad you’re going with his recommendations. When did he say he can get it installed?”

  “It may take a couple of months. In fact, that was one of the things Lane and I were just talking about.”

  “Is that so?” So it was Lane, now. What happened to Deputy Hansen? Since when are they on a first name basis?

  “Lane agreed to do some surveillance until the security system gets installed.”

  “Really?” He turned to the deputy. “When I talked to your boss, he said there was no money in the budget for surveillance.” His eyes narrowed as he watched Hansen.

  “Doing it when I’m off duty.” He met Michael’s glare head on.

  “Lane said he could do surveillance from his truck all night. He’ll leave when the farm hands start arriving at dawn.”

  “No shit. Very kind of you, Lane.” Just fucking great. She wouldn’t let him stay with her to protect her, but good old Lane gets to stay all night at her place in the truck. The jerk was probably plotting right now how to move surveillance to her bedroom. He knew he would be.

  “It’s just until the security is