basket with a handle from the back of the barn. “Hey, I heard that Irene lady was killed. That’s wicked bad.”
Cam agreed.
“Did they, like, catch anybody yet?” A shadow passed over the teen’s cheery, chatty mood.
“As of earlier this morning there was no arrest. I feel bad for Mr. Fisher. They found her on his farm.” Cam glanced at Ellie’s worried look. “I’m sure there’s nothing to be afraid of. It had to be someone with a grudge against Ms. Burr.”
Ellie nodded. “I bet you’re glad it didn’t happen here. Again.”
Cam agreed, then exclaimed, “I forgot the Brussels sprouts! See you back here.” She grabbed a pair of long-handled loppers and hauled the cart out back. They had an hour until customers arrived, but cutting the thick stalks could be tough.
The three-foot-tall plants with their orbs clustered on them like alien eyes grew in the field farthest back toward the woods. She should leave them to sweeten up as the weather grew colder, but the shares were a bit scant this week. As she recalled, she’d planted enough for several weeks of harvest, anyway.
Cam bent over the first plant and lopped off the inch-thick woody stem right above the ground. She let it fall away and moved on to the next one. She was about to cut it when a small green cabbage worm fell onto her wrist.
Cam swore as she dropped the tool. She knocked the worm to the ground and smashed it with her boot. If cabbage moths had infested her crop with their larvae, no one would want to eat the sprouts. She examined the rest of the plant. A few leaves showed holes, but most of it looked fine, and the sprouts themselves didn’t display evidence of being eaten away. She quickly strode down the row. The plants at the far end showed more worm damage, so she pulled four up by their roots and threw them as far as she could into the border of the woods.
She checked her watch. Resuming lopping, Cam counted as she went until she’d cut enough stalks. She gathered up an armful and started toward the cart.
“Cam,” a voice called in a loud whisper.
Cam dropped the stalks where she stood. She looked around her with quick moves of her head. It wasn’t Ellie’s voice. She couldn’t see anyone. Her heart thumped as her skin prickled with cold fear.
“I’m here,” the voice went on. “Here,” it urged.
She grabbed the loppers. The voice came from the woods, from near where she’d tossed the infested plants. There was something familiar about it.
“Who’s there?” Her voice barely emerged. She tried again, and this time it rang clear. She trained her eyes on the spot where she thought the person was hiding.
A head leaned out from behind a thick maple. Bobby Burr’s head.
Cam closed her eyes for a moment and let the threat subside in her body. She opened them and walked toward him until they were face-to-face.
“What are you doing here? Why are you back there?” She took a close look at him. A brown pine needle stuck out of his black hair. He was dressed in old jeans and a sweatshirt. His face bore a smudge of dirt. It was his eyes that alarmed her. They looked like he had seen the abyss.
“Are you all right?” Cam asked.
He didn’t speak. His eyes darted around the field in front of him.
“You heard Irene was killed, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Cam, I heard.” He kept his voice low and urgent. “I also heard the police are looking for me.”
“Well, sure. You’re her stepson. So you talk to them. You didn’t kill her, right?”
He shook his head at a funereal pace.
“So? Come to the house. You look like you could use a cup of coffee, maybe some breakfast.”
“No! I can’t. You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand.”
“It’s complicated.” Bobby stared at the trees. “After the dinner, Irene and I—”
“Cam?” Ellie’s voice called out from a distance. “Subscribers are here.”
Cam looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see Ellie. “Be right there,” she called in
Cam agreed.
“Did they, like, catch anybody yet?” A shadow passed over the teen’s cheery, chatty mood.
“As of earlier this morning there was no arrest. I feel bad for Mr. Fisher. They found her on his farm.” Cam glanced at Ellie’s worried look. “I’m sure there’s nothing to be afraid of. It had to be someone with a grudge against Ms. Burr.”
Ellie nodded. “I bet you’re glad it didn’t happen here. Again.”
Cam agreed, then exclaimed, “I forgot the Brussels sprouts! See you back here.” She grabbed a pair of long-handled loppers and hauled the cart out back. They had an hour until customers arrived, but cutting the thick stalks could be tough.
The three-foot-tall plants with their orbs clustered on them like alien eyes grew in the field farthest back toward the woods. She should leave them to sweeten up as the weather grew colder, but the shares were a bit scant this week. As she recalled, she’d planted enough for several weeks of harvest, anyway.
Cam bent over the first plant and lopped off the inch-thick woody stem right above the ground. She let it fall away and moved on to the next one. She was about to cut it when a small green cabbage worm fell onto her wrist.
Cam swore as she dropped the tool. She knocked the worm to the ground and smashed it with her boot. If cabbage moths had infested her crop with their larvae, no one would want to eat the sprouts. She examined the rest of the plant. A few leaves showed holes, but most of it looked fine, and the sprouts themselves didn’t display evidence of being eaten away. She quickly strode down the row. The plants at the far end showed more worm damage, so she pulled four up by their roots and threw them as far as she could into the border of the woods.
She checked her watch. Resuming lopping, Cam counted as she went until she’d cut enough stalks. She gathered up an armful and started toward the cart.
“Cam,” a voice called in a loud whisper.
Cam dropped the stalks where she stood. She looked around her with quick moves of her head. It wasn’t Ellie’s voice. She couldn’t see anyone. Her heart thumped as her skin prickled with cold fear.
“I’m here,” the voice went on. “Here,” it urged.
She grabbed the loppers. The voice came from the woods, from near where she’d tossed the infested plants. There was something familiar about it.
“Who’s there?” Her voice barely emerged. She tried again, and this time it rang clear. She trained her eyes on the spot where she thought the person was hiding.
A head leaned out from behind a thick maple. Bobby Burr’s head.
Cam closed her eyes for a moment and let the threat subside in her body. She opened them and walked toward him until they were face-to-face.
“What are you doing here? Why are you back there?” She took a close look at him. A brown pine needle stuck out of his black hair. He was dressed in old jeans and a sweatshirt. His face bore a smudge of dirt. It was his eyes that alarmed her. They looked like he had seen the abyss.
“Are you all right?” Cam asked.
He didn’t speak. His eyes darted around the field in front of him.
“You heard Irene was killed, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Cam, I heard.” He kept his voice low and urgent. “I also heard the police are looking for me.”
“Well, sure. You’re her stepson. So you talk to them. You didn’t kill her, right?”
He shook his head at a funereal pace.
“So? Come to the house. You look like you could use a cup of coffee, maybe some breakfast.”
“No! I can’t. You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand.”
“It’s complicated.” Bobby stared at the trees. “After the dinner, Irene and I—”
“Cam?” Ellie’s voice called out from a distance. “Subscribers are here.”
Cam looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see Ellie. “Be right there,” she called in
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