Deadly Harvest

by Marissa Shrock

  There was no mistaking the suspicion in the detective’s voice. Even after seeing J.T.’s protective reaction, did he think J.T. had hacked the monitor on purpose? A knot formed in my stomach. What if J.T. was Sharkie?

  I wrapped my arms around my waist and shoved the thought aside.

  “Georgia gave me a call.” J.T. shook his head and held up his tablet. “I can access her monitor remotely, but I had to see this in person.”

  “Will you show me how the monitor works?” Detective Perkins asked.

  “Sure.” J.T. climbed the ladder into the combine cab and settled next to the yield monitor. Detective Perkins sat in the instructional seat. Since there wasn’t room for me in the cab, I climbed the ladder and squatted on the platform. Grandpa leaned against the ladder.

  J.T. worked on his tablet and explained the system to the detective. I wondered if our hovering was irritating, but he didn’t seem to mind. About ten minutes later, he threw his hands up in defeat. “Everything looks completely normal, but I downloaded all the data to a flash drive. Maybe one of your tech gurus can find something I missed.”

  “Thanks.” Detective Perkins took the flash drive. “I’ll have someone take a look.”

  I stood aside as Detective Perkins climbed down. He paused on the ladder and looked up at me. “I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, how about you do your job and let me do mine?”

  I flicked my fleece’s zipper tab up and down. “I’m happy to do that, seeing as how I’m not ready to meet my Maker.” The truth was, the message freaked me out more than I wanted to admit.

  “Good. You take care.” Detective Perkins and Grandpa walked toward the road where the detective’s car waited.

  I stuck my head in the cab. “Am I good to go on shelling?”

  “Yep.” J.T. looked past me, and I followed his gaze to where the detective and Grandpa stood next to the car talking.

  What if my cousin wasn’t the Christian man I thought he was? No. Even though J.T. was four years younger than me, he, my brother Dakota, and I had grown up together. Our moms were sisters who were close. We’d spent lots of summer days swimming in his family’s pool or in our pond. We’d built snow forts in the winter. We’d endured scorching days at the Shipshewana flea market when our moms dragged us along. I’d even watched J.T. profess his belief in Jesus Christ at his baptism ten years ago.

  I flipped my braid between my fingers. “Please don’t say anything about this. You know how people like to gossip.”

  He didn’t meet my eyes. “Sure do, so you can count on me to keep my mouth shut.” He gave me a light slap on the shoulder as he slipped around me and climbed down the ladder. “I’ll be back to help in a few hours.”

  Chapter Nine

  After a week of sunshiny days and no investigating because I didn’t have a death wish, Grandpa and I finished shelling the last of the corn just a few hours before my date with Jon Nordmeyer.

  Jon was better looking in person than his picture had shown, but so far that and his manners had been the only positives on this painful blind date, which led me to Life Lesson #832: Never let your stepdad fix you up. My heart squeezed as I realized Daddy would never have dreamed of sending me on a date with Jon. Not because Jon was a bad guy, but because he would’ve seen a mile away that this dude and I had nothing in common except that we were both Christians.

  Jon caught my hand as we strolled into the theater for the musical. Really? After an hour-long drive to Indianapolis and a dinner filled with painful silences punctuated by a few babbling sessions from me, he thought it was going well enough to make a move? But he puffed out his chest and smirked ever so slightly. I didn’t have the heart to crush him by pulling away.

  I slathered on a smile and told myself that to see Wicked, I could tolerate hand holding.

  “I’m so excited about the show,” I said.

  “Great.” He let go of my hand and opened the door for me, and my Winston family fairness made me give him a point for chivalry. He’d already earned several. Buying dinner. Picking me up. Not being intimidated by my profession.

  It’s too bad a girl couldn’t find a husband based on a point system alone. If that were the case, I could’ve closed a deal long ago.

  Jon grabbed my hand again, and we found our seats—which were impressively close to the stage. As I studied the program, he rested his arm on my chair but didn’t actually touch my back.

  “Georgia? Is that you?” a female voice trilled.

  Please, no.

  Baby Kelsey sauntered down to our seats with Evan in tow. Her skinny jeans fit her perfectly and showed off her tiny legs, and her lacy, cream-colored blouse was adorable—perfect with her skin tone. If I tried to pull off that color, I’d look ill. Her perfect outfit caused me to second-guess my choice to wear skinny jeans with a black blazer.

  “Hello!” I rose, and Jon did the same. While making introductions, I kept a close eye on Evan’s expression for any hint of—never mind.

  It was unreadable anyway.

  But were his cheeks pinker than normal? Maybe he had a fever. Yeah, that would explain his choice in gir—Nice Georgia.

  Obviously, God had more work to do with me than just my swearing problem.

  “How did you two meet?” Kelsey grasped Evan’s arm and leaned against him.

  “One of my coworkers set us up,” Jon said.

  Another point to Jon for not mentioning my stepdad. Why couldn’t there be chemistry between us? And what was up with Kelsey? This was a totally different person than the shy girl who’d been at my house on Sunday.

  “Oh, how fun. I’ve been wanting to see this musical for so long,” Kelsey said. “It’s a dream come true to experience it with the man I love.”

  For a second, I wanted to barf. I mean, who talks like that except for characters in bad rom-coms? Then my urge to puke passed because pity replaced it.

  How sad that Kelsey felt she had to try so hard.

  I smiled. “I hope you both enjoy the show.”

  “Thank you.” Evan put his arm around Kelsey and ushered her back to their seats behind us.

  The orchestra started warming up, which was perfect. I was ready to forget my troubles and get lost in the story.

  During intermission, I weaved through the crowd in the theater lobby. Even if it was for only a few minutes, I said a prayer of thanks for the break from the date awkwardness.

  The line for the ladies’ room extended outside the door, but I didn’t mind—until Evan strolled out of the men’s room and right over to me.

  “Are you okay?” He glanced toward the ladies’ room door. “I heard about the threat on your yield monitor.”

  “I’m fine.” I blew out a breath. Sometimes I loved living in a small town. “Who told you?”

  He scrunched up his face. “The school secretary heard it from Beverly Alspaugh…who got it from Wanda Morris at the research club meeting.”

  Wanda was Grandpa’s girlfriend and clearly the source of the family security breach. I reminded myself not to tell Grandpa any deep, dark secrets. “Are you enjoying the show?”

  “Yes.” His mouth drew into a thin line. “Have you thought about how serious this is?”

  “No, no. I don’t worry about death because I’ll make a fantastic angel someday.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder. How dare he cast me aside and then act like he cared?

  The muscle in Evan’s jaw tightened. “That’s not funny. And humans don’t become angels when they die.”

  I bristled. How could he mistake my sarcasm for theological error? “Then change the subject.”

  He didn’t have to because Kelsey sauntered out of the ladies’ room, and her eyes narrowed—just a tad—before she smiled. “Isn’t the show great? I can’t wait for the second act.” She winked, clutched Evan’s arm, and led him away.

  Ugh.

  “Jon did what?” Ashley stopped on the Wildcat Trail, and her mouth hung open as she faced me. “You’re kidding, I hope.”

  “Um
…no.” I kept walking down the paved path that started at Sycamore Park, ran out of town, wound around Brandi’s subdivision, and continued for approximately two and a half more miles. There, it dead-ended until town officials could raise more money to lengthen it. Part of the trail meandered through fields, and a portion snaked through a wooded area.

  Like a lot of walkers, runners, and bicyclers, Ashley and I often met on Saturday mornings to exercise. Brandi normally joined us, but she was at CPR training for her school. For the past two and three-quarter miles, I’d avoided any mention of the hacked yield monitor and had opted to share about my date disaster instead.

  She caught up with me and slowed to a walk. “Okay, okay. Let me see if I have this right. Kelsey and Evan were how many rows behind you?”

  “Two.” I pushed up my sleeves since the sun had come out, and we’d long since left the wooded portion of the trail behind.

  “And it was the second act.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She erupted into giggles. “I’m sorry, hon.”

  “It’s not funny.” I huffed as I stepped aside so a middle-aged man on a bike could pass. “How would you feel if all of a sudden your blind date leaned in for a kiss during the reprise of ‘I’m Not That Girl’?” I buried my head in my hands. “Out of the corner of my eye, all I could see were giant, pursed lips coming at me—during a live theater production. It’s not like we were a couple of teenagers in the back row of a movie theater.”

  Ashley guffawed—no exaggeration. A deep, manly laugh that caused the guy on the bike to gawk at us over his shoulder and almost run off the trail. “The audience didn’t realize they were getting two shows for the price of one.”

  “You are no help.” I glanced at the remains of my bean field to the left. “What if Kelsey spreads this around?” I hissed.

  Ashley’s expression turned serious—for about two seconds. Then she snorted.

  “All right.” She blew out a breath. “Kelsey probably didn’t see it.” She unzipped her jacket. “Does that help?”

  “Do you believe what you’re saying, or are you telling me that to make me feel better?”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  “You can’t do that with your friends.”

  “Yes, I can.” She removed her jacket and tied it around her waist. “But for you, I’ll keep building my case. You didn’t make a big deal out of the attempted smooch, right?”

  “No.” When I’d leaned into the elderly lady next to me, Jon had taken the hint and retreated. For the rest of the night, he’d sat with his hands folded in his lap. “Jon’s sweet. I didn’t want to embarrass him any more than he already was.” Poor guy hadn’t even walked me to the door when he’d dropped me off.

  “Since you didn’t run out of the theater screaming, I’m willing to bet Kelsey and Evan didn’t notice. And so what if they did?” She shrugged.

  True. It definitely wouldn’t hurt Evan to know that I wasn’t sitting around pining for him.

  We approached the end of the trail, which was marked by a wooden barricade. About an eighth of a mile to the north stood the woods where I’d found Tara. Between the trail and the woods was a narrow strip of grass the county maintained.

  Ashley studied me. “You okay? You have a funny look on your face.”

  I pointed to the woods. “It would’ve been easy for the person who killed Tara to use this trail to access my woods.” I removed my phone from my pocket. “I’m going to text Detective Perkins about it—just in case.”

  “Georgia, this is Jon, and I’ve been thinking.”

  Oh boy. I clutched my phone, leaned against my kitchen counter, and closed my eyes, waiting for Jon to continue the message he’d left while Ashley and I had been walking.

  “I don’t think we’re potential romantic partners.”

  Hallelujah.

  “However, I enjoyed the time I spent with you and didn’t want to leave you wondering about my intentions. Once again, I apologize for attempting to kiss you. You are quite beautiful, and while I feel physically attracted to you, our intellectual connection is lacking.”

  I snorted. That was an understatement.

  “I wish you well, and you don’t need to call me back. Unless you need closure, in which case I’d be willing to go into more detail.”

  Nope. Jon had summed up the date beautifully. Still, I decided to send a text.

  Thanks for letting me know. I agree with your assessment and wish you the best!

  I hesitated then added something else.

  I have a friend you might like to meet. Let me know.

  Brandi would kill me, but I’d worry about that later.

  Chapter Ten

  “What’s your relationship with Evan?” Baby Kelsey pulled lip-gloss from her purse and applied it.

  Yikes. How do I answer that? We were alone in the church restroom on Sunday morning. I started washing my hands and gazed at the bags under my eyes that made me look every day of thirty—and more. Still, I took some consolation in my new navy dress with gold grommets on the sleeves and hem. “We’re just friends.” I brushed a bit of lint from my skirt.

  Doubt flitted across her overly-made-up face, and her eyes narrowed. “Really.” She placed her lip-gloss tube back in her clutch and snapped it shut. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Is that why you suggested a double date?”

  She faced me. “You and Evan were deep in conversation Friday night during intermission. Plus, I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

  “Have you noticed the way he looks at you?”

  Her mouth flattened.

  I took that as a no, pushed on the paper towel dispenser, and ripped off a sheet. Rock solid, eh? Why was I always trying to be Nice Georgia? The one everybody would like? Clearly, it wasn’t working. Telling the truth in this moment was doing me absolutely no good because it was obvious she was looking for trouble.

  I’d tell her what she wanted to hear. I was after all, at my core, a people pleaser. A failed one, but a pleaser nonetheless.

  I shook my head slowly. “You’re right. I’ll be honest since you’re so good at sniffing out the truth. Evan and I have always had a special bond.” I lowered my voice. “For a while, I thought God was telling me he was the one.” I shrugged. “I guess I was wrong… Unless I wasn’t. In which case, your days are numbered.” I wiped my hands and chucked the wadded paper past Baby Kelsey’s head and into the garbage. “You never know what complications God might use to bring people together.” I winked and patted her on the shoulder. “Catch you at small group tonight.”

  Her face crumpled, and I sailed out of the restroom.

  And ran right into Detective Perkins. Literally. I plowed into him.

  He steadied me, and his hands lingered on my upper arms. “Excuse me.”

  “No. Excuse me.” Heat crept into my face. “How are you, Detective?”

  The restroom door whooshed open, and a red-eyed Kelsey charged out. She flew past us but then turned and stomped back. “Cal, I swear, you’d better stay away from her. She’s nothing but trouble—and she just told me, she’s already met the one.” She smirked and sashayed away in her black leather mini.

  Had Detective Perkins dated Kelsey too? How was it possible this child I could’ve babysat—if I’d ever been the babysitting type—was singlehandedly ruining my life? “How do you know Kelsey?”

  He chuckled. “She’s my cousin.”

  Of course she was. Here in the good ol’ heartland, everybody was related to everybody else—which was another reason my prospects were limited. I wondered about the detective, but Beverly would surely know if we were kin.

  “Is she right? Have you met the one?”

  “Nope. I was telling her what she wanted to hear.”

  “Right.” His brow furrowed, and he studied me. “Thanks for the text about the Wildcat Trail.”

  “It’s probably crazy.”

  “No. It’s a good thought. I checked to see if the security cameras caught who p
arked in that area, but all the cameras are pointed at the playground equipment and gazebo instead of the trailhead. But tomorrow, I’ll follow up and see if any of the regulars noticed someone different using the trail that morning.”

  I nodded as music blasted through the sanctuary’s open doors. “We’d better get going.”

  “You want to grab some lunch after the service?”

  Whoa. I hadn’t expected that. Good thing I’d decided to wear my new dress. “Um. Sure. That sounds great.” At least I might be able to find out information on the investigation.

  He grinned. “Cool. And feel free to call me Cal.”

  Cal and I found a table next to the window at Velda’s Café after we’d ordered. The restaurant was a popular place to gather after church on Sundays. The shop had a vintage chic look with mismatched tables and chairs. Historical photos taken all around Wildcat Springs hung on the soft yellow walls.

  Though my first instinct had been that this lunch outing might allow me to ask questions about Daddy’s murder investigation and Tara’s case, I’d decided during Pastor Mark’s sermon on patience that I should wait for Cal to bring them up.

  At least I was self-aware enough to know that wouldn’t be easy.

  “Did you grow up in this area?” I rolled the straw paper between my fingers.

  “Nope. Solon, Ohio—Cleveland suburb.”

  “How’d you end up here?”

  “I have extended family in this area, and when I was a kid, my grandma used to talk about how great it was growing up on a farm.”

  “Beverly’s sister?”

  “Right. My grandma was the oldest girl in her family and passed away a couple of years ago.” He swallowed. “After three years on the police force in Cleveland, I started wanting something simpler. A house in the country—or a small hobby farm.” He glanced out the window and then met my eyes. “With the hours I’ve been putting in at work, I don’t have time for a garden or chickens.” He folded his hands. “How’d you end up farming?”