Fruit of All Evil (29 page)

I didn't know why the financial situation of the dairy might have caused Shawn and Mid to kill their aunt, but I was certain that money or issues regarding money were behind Madeline's untimely and horrible death. It wouldn't be the first time money was a motive for murder. And, I told myself, though I still didn't really know who the killer was, George was right; the murder was personal. I guessed a family member or members were involved.

Who, or which ones, though? I hoped Drew had nothing to do with it, and I didn't see Sally being involved. That left Alan, Shawn, and Mid. I suspected that in some way all three of them were involved, but which one tied the shirt around Madeline's neck?

I stopped on the wide porch at the front of the house.

I swallowed hard and hesitated.
Okay
, I told myself,
don't be stupid. Don't be confrontational. Just say you're here for a tour. Just tell them about the tour you took when you were a child and how much you enjoyed it and how much you'd love to look around the dairy again. Besides, Sam should be here any minute.

It was a formality, because as I climbed the porch steps, I knew no one was inside the house. I forced my knuckles to knock on the front door. The sound echoed in the emptiness behind the door. But in case I was being watched, I had to do what would be expected of the casual visitor. I made a show of shrugging my shoulders and then moved to the side of the house to make my way back to the dairy.

“Hello, anyone home?” I called as I stepped into the open area in the middle of the buildings.

Maybe Sam had already been at the dairy and found what I seemed to be finding: no one and nothing around but the cows in the pasture.

But a moment later, the door to the hay barn opened a crack and Shawn made his way out. He closed the door behind him and brushed his thinning hair back. I remembered thinking how much his face was transformed when he smiled. He wasn't smiling now, and he looked older than he probably was. He wore faded jeans and a faded red T-shirt. He waved hesitantly.

“Becca, right? Hello.” He extended his hand as he reached me. He was surprised, but cleared his throat and said in a friendly tone, “What can I do for you?”

Play it cool. Play it cool.
“Hi, Shawn. I know it's short notice, but I had the afternoon off and I was thinking about the dairy and how much I enjoyed touring it as a child. I was wondering if I could request another tour—the grown-up version.” I laughed.

“Oh?” It wasn't a good time, I could tell, but I didn't want to give up.

“I can show myself around if you're busy and you don't mind me peeking at all your dairy farm secrets.” I smiled again, but with less enthusiasm.

“Uh, no, I guess I don't mind at all. I, uh, well, I am kind of busy at the moment. Why don't you start over in the milking barn”—he pointed—“and I'll catch up to you in the butter barn.” He pointed again. I hoped he didn't notice that my eyes landed on the buildings easily, as though I knew exactly which ones he was talking about.

“Thanks,” I said cheerily.

Shawn nodded, turned, and hurried back to the barn he'd come from. I wanted to follow him and see what was keeping him so busy, but I'd catch up to him soon enough.

I sauntered to the milking barn, keeping my eyes toward the road. I wanted to intercept Sam if I could. He wouldn't be happy I was there, and I'd try to ease his anger before he talked to Shawn and Mid.

Instead of going into the milking barn, I walked around it and stood at the fence. Shawn knew I was there, so I could openly admire the pasture. There weren't many living creatures I wasn't fond of in one way or another, and though cows might not be the most amazing species, I found the pasture a beautiful sight. The black-and-white animals looked healthy and well-fed, so if Loder Dairy was having financial problems, at least they'd made sure to take care of their animals. Could people who made sure their animals were taken care of kill a human being? I knew a few people who thought animals were much better company than humans. In fact, my relationship with my dog was far more enjoyable than either of my two marriages. But I chose divorce over murder.

Moo
. My friend, or another calf that looked just like my friend, was approaching the fence. It must have been the same one, because how many calves had it in them to be so engaging? This one must have been unique.

“Hello. You're doing whatever you can to get me to quit eating hamburger, aren't you?” I said as I reached through the fence to pet its nose.

But this time, the calf wasn't being friendly. She seemed agitated, as though there was something she really wanted to communicate. She was almost twitchy; her short legs couldn't stop moving even if she'd wanted them to. I couldn't get my hand to her nose because she kept pulling it away from my grasp, as though she was trying to tell me to follow her, which couldn't be possible. Could it?

“What? I'm afraid I don't have a clue what you're talking about.”

The calf mooed and walked a few steps down the fence line, toward the butter and hay barns. She turned around, walked back to me, and mooed again.

“Do you want me to follow you?” I knew how ridiculous my attempt at human/bovine communication was, but the calf really did seem to want to tell me something. “Are you that smart?”

It didn't seem possible, but I didn't want to discount the moment. Okay, maybe the calf was just being a calf, but I was curious enough to jump over the fence and join her on the pasture side.

At first, I froze and looked around. I'd just invaded alien territory, and I didn't know how the native population would react. Fortunately, most of the cows were too concerned with their own activities to pay me any attention, but a few of them did glance in my direction and twitch their ears before ignoring me again. I looked around for anything that looked like a bull; even a female digging her hoof in the ground in attack mode would have scared me back to the other side of the fence. But it seemed I was safe.

Moo
! my friend exclaimed

“Okay, okay, I'm coming.” I stepped lightly and cautiously. I knew enough about cow pastures to know that the cow pies weren't scooped away on a regular basis. I was close enough to the fence, though, that the path was pretty clear.

We passed the butter barn and moved toward the hay barn. The first time I'd been at the dairy, the doors on both sides of the hay barn had been opened wide. Today, they were closed.

The calf stopped at the doors of the hay barn and looked at me as if to say our journey was done. I looked around, wondering who had trained this animal and how hard they were laughing at my willing participation. The other cows couldn't have cared less what I was up to, and there were still no people anywhere. No one. I hadn't checked the butter barn, but it seemed empty, too.

And Sam still wasn't there.

The sense that something wasn't right hit my gut with a thud. Not only was something not right, something was really wrong. I just didn't know what it was. I had a strong urge go back the way I'd come, and leave the dairy and go home before Sam knew I'd been there. Just as I turned around, the calf mooed again, but more quietly this time, as though she didn't want to be heard.

“Impossible! You can't be communicating with me,” I said just as quietly. She looked at me plaintively. “Do you want me to look in there?”

The good news was that the calf didn't nod or say anything more. She just stood and looked at me, her big eyes blinking and her baby legs wavering slightly.

“Damn.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs and then stepped to the side of one of the huge doors. I tugged gently on the handle. It didn't yield easily, but I managed to open it a small crack.

I had to shove the side of my head against the door to be able to peer into the barn. At first all I saw was hay—more of the bales I'd seen and hidden behind earlier. But when I twisted my neck and pushed my head in deeper, I thought I saw something silver—no, it wasn't silver, it was chrome. I thought I was seeing the back of a car.

That might not be too odd. I knew lots of people who sometimes kept their cars in a barn. But there was something off about a car in this particular barn. When I'd been in it earlier, the barn had looked like it was specifically and only for hay. In fact, so much so that it seemed it would be off limits to a car, perhaps a pollutant of animal feed.

I pulled my head back and thought a second. Should I open the door further and look? Should I run back to my truck? If I was caught, I could just say I'd finished looking in the other buildings. Finally it came down to this: I knew I wasn't going to leave the dairy without knowing more about the car in the hay barn.

I didn't want to get caught, though, so I reached for the handle again and opened the door just a little more. I crouched down to my knees, so if someone looked at eye level, they wouldn't see me. I froze in that position for a second before leaning my head against the door again.

It was most definitely a car. In fact, it was a police car. And if I needed evidence as to just whose police car it was, I only had to look next to it. Officer Sam Brion had in fact made it to the dairy before me. And now, he was a bloody mess tied to a chair with his hands cuffed behind his back, and his head hanging down.

I had to put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn't scream. It looked as if Sam wasn't breathing. He wasn't moving at all. Was he dead? I had to stifle another scream.

With a zip of adrenaline-induced fear, I stood and turned to run to find help. But my escape was thwarted by something hard and metallic; something flat and steely pounded on my face.

I was aware enough for a brief second that I knew my body swung around like a stunt person in a movie fight. I fell and hit the ground, and sank into a dark world.

I'm sure the calf tried to tell me she was sorry.

It wasn't easy, but I finally opened my eyes. I was inside the
hay barn, and someone had tied me to a chair and then tied my wrists behind my back. The position stretched my shoulders to the point of burning pain, but they didn't hurt as much as my head did. I couldn't see straight and I couldn't think straight, but the pain told me I was still alive, though for how much longer I wasn't sure.

I thought I was going to throw up. I wanted to lean forward so I wouldn't throw up all over myself, but my neck wobbled and I couldn't move in any direction without some sort of support.

“Becca,” a voice next to me said.

A wave of nausea spun the room as I tried to make my blurry eyes see who was talking to me.

“Becca,” the voice said again.

I blinked hard. Why was I seeing only light and fuzzy shapes? Oh, yeah, I'd been hit in the face.

“Who's there?” I slurred.

“It's Shawn.”

“What's going on, Shawn?” I asked.

“Why did you have to come out here today?” he responded in a childlike tone.

“I wanted a tour,” I lied after a long second of attempting to put some thoughts together coherently.

“Bad timing.”

And then I remembered Sam. I sucked in a gasp and thought about standing, but nothing moved. I blinked even harder and told my eyes to clear up, dammit!

“Sam? Sam!” Where was he? I could see a shape next to me. “Sam?”

“Won't do you any good,” Shawn said. “He's dead.”

“You killed him? You killed a police officer? You killed Sam?” Somehow, panic caused my vision to clear slightly and make the pain less noticeable.
Sam was dead?!

Shawn crouched down in front of me. “I'm sorry. We had no choice.”

“What do you mean, you had no choice?” Horror bubbled in my chest and up my throat. Tears started to flow down my cheeks and I wanted to scream, but didn't think I would be able to.

“He must have figured out what we'd done.”

“What did you do?” I screamed, though I knew perfectly well.

“Her truck's in the garage,” Mid said as he slipped into the barn through a small opening in the front doors. “Damn, she's awake.”

“Yes,” Shawn said. “Now what?”

“Why didn't you hit her harder?” Mid asked, as though he wanted to know why Shawn hadn't put out the cat.

Shawn shrugged. “I, uh, I thought I did, I guess.”

Even with the panic and horror I felt, I was suddenly aware that Shawn wasn't happy with what was going on. In fact, as my now teary eyes turned to him, I thought he looked green around the gills. His face was drawn; Mid's face was rosy and his eyes were bright behind their professor-type glasses, as though he was relishing the adventure. I have no idea why I noticed these things, except that somewhere deep inside I must have been trying to figure out how to get out of my current predicament alive, and I was looking for the person I might best be able to reason with—and then perhaps kill. They'd killed Sam, and I knew if there was any way I could get free of the ropes, I'd would take out these two men. And wasn't it only a few moments ago I was wondering how someone could possibly kill another human being? I didn't take the time to acknowledge that the universe had sent me the answer in a speedy fashion.