by Lisa Moreau
“I’m going to have to shatter your theory, Miss Grumpy Pants.”
Sydney chuckled and mumbled to herself, “Grumpy Pants?”
“Gretchen and I have been together for five years. In fact, she’s the only woman I’ve ever dated.”
Sydney raised an eyebrow. “You two spend your days snuggling, and when you’re separated you become depressed? You’re not together now, and you don’t seem very sullen.”
“For your information, we…” Actually, she and Gretchen weren’t the snuggling type, and Emily hadn’t really missed her all that much. In fact, it’d been kind of nice to have time to herself.
“…we have an adult relationship,” Emily said. “We don’t spend every moment together, and we respect each other’s space.”
Sydney grunted. “Doesn’t sound like you have much of that oxytocin hormone flowing.”
Anger burned in the center of Emily’s chest. “Are you insinuating we’re not in love? We’re getting married, for Christ’s sake. Our relationship is stable, reliable, and secure.” Emily nodded once and crossed her arms.
“Sounds like you’re describing your accountant, not the love of your life.”
Actually, Gretchen did do Emily’s taxes, but she certainly wasn’t going to mention that now. “How dare you—”
“Okay…okay. I’m sorry. You’re right.” Sydney waved her hands.
Still steaming, Emily wasn’t quite ready to accept an apology. “Just because you’ve never dated anyone longer than a few months doesn’t mean—”
“I said I was sorry. Really.”
Emily opened her mouth but then snapped it shut when her laptop rang with an incoming video call. “This is Gretchen. Please don’t make a sound.”
Sydney grinned. “You still haven’t told her that we’re shacking up?”
“Just…shush.” Emily shot Sydney a dirty look, which made her smile grow even bigger.
To get Sydney out of the camera’s line of sight, Emily pulled the laptop directly in front of her. After she accepted the call, Gretchen and Emily’s mother appeared on the screen. Gretchen’s hair was in disarray, her normally pale complexion scarlet, and she appeared to be frazzled, which was very unlike her. Emily’s mother, on the other hand, looked the same, wearing a three-hundred-dollar designer yoga outfit, a blinged-out headband, and freshly applied makeup with an overabundance of cherry-red lipstick. Emily had never seen her mother without makeup, which begged the question of whether she went to bed every night all dolled up. Emily would bet her pricy Audubon bird cam that she did.
“Hey, you two. Gretch, are you okay?”
Gretchen peered at Emily’s mother out of the corner of her eye and flashed a strange expression. Enough said. The workout queen was giving her a hard time, probably about the wedding plans. Here Emily was, having a leisurely breakfast with Sydney, leaving Gretchen to deal with her mother. She should be ashamed.
“Hello, darling.” Emily’s mother elbowed Gretchen out of the way, her clown face filling the screen.
“Emily, is that a Pop-Tart?” Horror filled her mother’s eyes.
Emily pushed the plate out of view and ignored the question. “Mom, you can back up. You don’t need to be two centimeters away from the camera.”
Anger flashed across her mother’s face right before she made some grunting noises and sat back, both women coming into view again.
“We’re having a bit of a disagreement,” Emily’s mother said. “I think we should order a minimum of two hundred invitations but—”
“Good Lord! We don’t know that many people,” Emily said.
“Think about it, Emily Gail.” Her mom meant business. She’d used her middle name. “We could fill that many seats with just hospital personnel, not to mention your guests.”
Shouldn’t they all be our guests?
“We don’t know anyone from the hospital, Mom. Our dads work there, not us.”
Her mom looked as though someone had thrown ice water in her face, instantly freezing it in place.
“Your father’s colleagues have known you two since you were kids.” Emily’s mom looked at Gretchen, then back at the screen. “You two were both born in that hospital.”
A sarcastic “so what” was on the tip of Emily’s tongue. Instead, she asked, “Gretchen, what do you think?”
“I had thought we’d have a small ceremony,” Gretchen said, cautiously.
Emily’s mother threw her hands up in the air. “I can’t believe you two. We’re paying for everything. Most couples would die to have a lavish wedding.”
Lavish? There was no telling what else they were planning.
Her mother huffed and puffed for a full minute. “We can’t settle this, or anything else, over this video thingie. When are you coming home? Haven’t you found those—”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Emily peered at Sydney over her laptop.
“You really do need to be here,” Gretchen said adamantly. “Did that Farmer Fran woman let you onto her property yet?”
“I’m working on it. Listen, I need to go, but I’ll talk to you both later.”
Emily disconnected, closed her laptop, and attempted to avoid Sydney’s glare.
“Who’s Farmer Fran? I thought you said you were on vacation.”
“I am.” Emily took her glass to the sink and rinsed it out.
Sydney swung around on the stool. “Seems like an odd time to take off when you should be planning a wedding.”
Emily blew out a puff of air and leaned against the counter. “All right. You win. I’m here for a…a fig story.” Okay, so that was a lie, but she had to say something to appease Sydney.
“Did you say fig? I thought you were a bird-watcher.”
“My magazine specializes in all sorts of nature-related material, including agriculture. We report on more than just birds.” Hey, she wasn’t so bad at this fibbing thing after all.
“Okaaay. So you’re doing a story on someone named Fran?”
“Her figs. If I can get onto the property, that is. She’s a bit difficult. You should see the place. There are no-trespassing signs everywhere.”
“You’ve tried reasoning with her?” Sydney asked, surprisingly interested.
Emily nodded. “At Bud’s Burrito ’n Bait Shop.” When Sydney made an “eww” face, Emily said, “Don’t ask.”
“So break in.”
“What? I can’t do that.” Could she? No, of course not. It was illegal.
“Why not?”
Sydney nonchalantly propped her elbows back on the counter. Emily couldn’t believe how casual she was being about this whole situation.
“One word. Prison. I have no desire to dine on cockroaches and rats.”
“Huh?” Sydney paused and then chuckled. “Oh. I was just making that stuff up to scare the kid. I’ve never been in jail. I don’t know what they eat.”
“Regardless, I’m not trespassing on anyone’s property. Besides, I don’t even know if there is a…a fig story, and I can’t find out until I get access to the farm.”
Sydney hopped off the stool. “Look. All you have to do is sneak in and check out her figs or whatever. I’ll help you.”
“Why would you do that?”
Sydney shrugged. “It’s exciting, adventurous. This gets my heart pumping.” She rubbed her palms together briskly.
“It makes me wanna barf.” Emily breezed past Sydney, went into the living room, and sat on the couch.
Sydney followed and perched on the coffee table in front of Emily. “Don’t you want to find out if there’s a story? If so, you can work on Fran, but if not then you can go home and not have to deal with me anymore.” Sydney smiled.
“You’re just trying to get rid of me.”
“Hey, it’s your call. I’m just offering my assistance. And breaking-and-entering expertise.”
“You sure you’ve never been in prison?”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” Sydney lightly slapped Emily’s knee.
“Fran did say she was going out of town for a few days,” Emily said, thinking aloud.
“That’s perfect!” Sydney swooshed out her arms.
Emily looked directly at Sydney. “Are you sure we won’t get caught?”
“Positive.”
A hard knot formed in the pit of Emily’s stomach. “When should we do this?”
“Tonight. At nineteen hundred hours we’ll execute Operation Fig Find.”
* * *
Sydney trekked through the woods, far enough away from the cabin that she was out of earshot. She sat on a log and called Owen.
He immediately picked up. “It’s about time you called.”
“Hello to you, too,” Sydney said sarcastically.
“What’d you find out?”
“Are you sure this is about a bird story and not a fig one?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Emily said she’s here about figs and that her magazine covers agriculture.”
Owen grunted. “She’s lying. Find out the real story or else no reward. Got that?”
Sydney’s skin crawled. She didn’t like this guy one bit. “I know the deal,” Sydney said, not even trying to hide her irritation. “She’s desperate to gain access to someplace called Fran’s Fig Farm so—”
“That’s where the story is, then.”
“Yeah. I picked up on that. And—”
“So go to the farm and find out what’s going on.”
“If you would let me freakin’ finish a sentence, I was going to say that we’re going there tonight.”
“Good. Report back ASAP,” Owen said and hung up.
It irked Sydney that she was helping Owen and not Emily. She liked the cute bird-watcher. Sure, Emily had been testy when they’d first met, but she seemed like a genuinely nice person, and Sydney didn’t encounter many of those types. If she didn’t need the money so badly she’d tell this buffoon to get lost. But she did need it, desperately. And it was just a bird, or maybe fig, story. It wasn’t like it was anything earth-shattering.
Chapter Ten
Bonnie and Clyde
“I’m not so sure about this,” Emily said as she eyed the Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted sign.
Sydney forcefully shook the steel gate at the entrance of Fran’s farm. Did she seriously think the humongous padlock wouldn’t hold? Besides, Emily had already tried that yesterday.
“You don’t understand,” Emily said. “I’m a bird-watcher. The most dangerous thing I’ve ever done was tip my neck back too far looking through binoculars. I don’t come from adventurous people. Breaking and entering isn’t in my DNA.”
If Gretchen and her parents could see her now they’d probably cancel the wedding and commit Emily to the nearest psychiatric ward.
“We shouldn’t do this. I don’t have a criminal mind.” Emily looked at Sydney. “Are you listening to me?”
“I don’t see any cameras,” Sydney said, scanning the area. “Fran is threatening, but in a crude way.”
Where’s a paper bag when you need one? Emily was about to hyperventilate. She leaned her backside against the car and dropped her head between her legs, taking deep breaths in an attempt to slow a rapid heart rate. When she stood upright, Sydney was nowhere in sight.
“Sydney?” No answer. “Sydney? Where the hell are you?”
“Shh. Not so loud. I’m down here.”
Emily heard a voice but couldn’t see anything in the near darkness, especially since Sydney had insisted they dress in all black. It was a little unnerving how savvy she was when it came to planning the perfect crime.
“Where?” Emily whispered.
“To your left. Down the fence.”
Emily squinted and tiptoed through the tall grass until she bumped into a dark form. “Don’t disappear like that. You scared the crap outta me.”
“Look.” Sydney pointed to a hole in the barbed-wire fence. “We can fit through here if we lift this up.”
Emily grabbed Sydney’s arm when she reached out. “Don’t touch that. What if it’s electric?”
“Good thinking. Maybe you have a criminal mind after all.” Sydney grinned.
“So you were listening. Like I was saying, we should just go. It’s too dark to see anything anyway.”
Sydney pulled a flashlight out of her bag and clicked it on. Unfortunately, she had an answer for everything. Still, though, Emily would never be able to spot the lovebirds in this lighting.
“What are you doing?” Emily asked when Sydney put her ear up to the fence.
“Listening for a current. I don’t hear anything.” Sydney shined the light on the ground, picked up a stick, and tossed it at the fence. “Nothing. It should be fine.”
Should be? Emily needed more reassurance than that.
“Throw your backpack over the fence, and when I lift it up, climb through,” Sydney said. “And be careful. The barbs are razor sharp.”
Emily did as instructed and watched Sydney grab the wire. Did she seriously think Emily’s ass would fit through that small opening? Emily sucked in her stomach, placed one foot through the hole, and ducked. Panic gripped her insides when she couldn’t go any farther. It was as though someone had grabbed the back of her collar and was holding her in place. She was stuck straddling the fence, bent over in an awkward, uncomfortable position.
“I can’t move,” Emily said, fearfully.
“Hold on. Your shirt is caught.”
“Oh my God. I’m about to fall over. My legs are shaking.” Sydney yanked the material, but she was still frozen in place.
“I can’t stand up anymore.” Emily’s legs trembled and her back ached. She visualized herself tumbling down, sharp points penetrating her skin.
Sydney wrapped one arm around Emily’s waist. Wonder Woman had nothing on Sydney. It was amazing she could hold up the wire with one hand and Emily with the other. If that wasn’t enough, she also had the strength to bend down.
“Emily, look at me.”
Slowly, Emily peeled her eyes open, not realizing they had been squeezed shut. Two sparkling sapphire crystals stared back at her. She’d never looked into Sydney’s eyes from this close before. They were mesmerizing, hypnotic even.
“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Sydney’s voice was confident, soothing.
Those eyes.
That voice.
Sydney would fix everything. Within seconds, she unhooked the snag and supported Emily until she was safely on the other side.
“Are you okay?” Sydney asked.
“Yeah,” Emily said, feeling foolish for freaking out. “Sorry for being such a wimp.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You’re doing something you’ve never tried before. That takes bravery.”
“Me? Brave?” Emily slowly smiled. “It is kinda exciting.”
Maybe it was the adrenaline rush or the fact that she was safely on the other side of the fence unharmed, but Emily had never felt so alive before. It was as though every nerve ending in her body had been jolted awake. Who knew danger could be so much fun?
“Now you’re talking like a daredevil,” Sydney said. “Help me get through so we can find those figs.”
Once they were both over the fence, Sydney shined a flashlight as they walked down a dirt road.
“How far is it?” Sydney asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe a mile.”
“What’s so special about Fran’s figs?” Sydney peered at Emily out of the corner of her eye.
“They’re…um…big. Like largest in the world.”
The world? I might as well have said the universe.
“Wow! So Guinness Book of World Records big?”
“Possibly. I’m not sure. That
’s why I need to see them.” Emily silently prayed that Sydney would shut up already about the freakin’ figs.
“So what’s the deal with Fran? Why’s she so private?”
Emily sighed. “I have no idea. She’s not the warm and fuzzy type. Bud said she keeps to herself and isn’t a people person.”
“Bud?” Sydney asked. “Oh, from the bait place.”
“Have you ever heard of Conway Twitty?”
Sydney pointed the light in Emily’s eyes. “Talk about a conversation changer.”
Emily batted the flashlight down. “Bud said Fran is obsessed with the guy. It’s the only thing she loves aside from her farm. I dunno. I thought it might somehow help me get on her good side.”
Sydney chuckled. “Good luck with that one.”
After several minutes of silence, Emily asked, “Where do you live in LA?”
Sydney’s footsteps faltered. “Probably no place you’re familiar with.”
“Try me.”
“It’s…uh…South Central.”
Yikes. Not a good area. Sydney was right. Emily had never been there.
“You mentioned your mom before. Do you keep in touch with her?” Emily asked.
“What’s with all the questions?” Sydney sounded irritated.
“Just trying to get to know you better.”
Sydney took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No. I don’t communicate with her. I ran away from home when I was seventeen and haven’t seen her since.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m sorry.”
Emily had a gazillion questions. Where’d Sydney go? Did she live on the streets? How’d she support herself? But she bit her tongue, knowing Sydney probably would be offended. Getting to know Sydney was going to be a slow process, and surprisingly Emily actually wanted to try it.
Suddenly, Sydney stopped and grabbed Emily’s arm. “The house is up ahead. I see lights. We should skirt around the back in case anyone is there. Where are the fig trees?”
Emily peered through the binoculars that hung around her neck. “From what I can see, which isn’t much, looks like behind the house.”
Knowing she was so close to the lovebirds sent shivers down Emily’s spine. They went in a wide circle through an empty field, hid behind a wood chipper, and eyed a small, white house in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint.
