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  Becky walked into the room and sat on the La-Z-Boy. “Wes says he doesn’t know anything about the collar, but he and Max will look for it and get back to us.”

  “Well, we already looked for it. I don’t think it’s on the property.”

  “It won’t hurt for them to look again.”

  Becky looked weary. She’d been doing such a great job taking care of Brynn and trying to keep up with everything. Brynn felt a pang of guilt. She wasn’t 100 percent yet. But she was getting better. “Why don’t you go home, Becky? I’ll be fine. You look so tired.”

  “Thanks, and no. I’m here for the duration. Everything is fine with Lily. It’s summer and she’s having a blast. When you’re better, I’ll happily go home.”

  “I am better.”

  “That’s what you say, but look at you. It’s four in the afternoon and you’re lying on the couch. That’s not the Brynn I know.”

  Point taken.

  “Sometimes I feel normal.”

  “Sometimes isn’t enough.”

  Chapter 38

  “We’ve not found Jewel’s collar yet,” Wes said as he and Max came into the living room.

  “The more I think about it the more I wonder if she actually had one.” Brynn’s head was foggy again.

  “Yes, of course she did,” Becky said. “I remember it.”

  “It seems to me the question isn’t if she had it, but what happened to it,” Max said. “Collars don’t fall off of cows’ necks.”

  “No, but sometimes they can slip out of them,” Wes said.

  “But we’ve no evidence of it. We’ve scoured the place. My conclusion is that someone took it.” Max sat down on the couch next to Brynn. “This place keeps getting better and better. First our gram dies in a fire, then Wes is accused of murder, plus all of this weird ransom ware stuff going on. Now this? Someone stole a collar from a sweet little cow?”

  Brynn’s thoughts spun around in her mind. Was this all connected somehow? Think, think, think. But the more she tried to think, the worse it became. So frustrating. “Have you heard from the police?” she asked Wes.

  “Not recently. My dad is at the station with my lawyer right now.” Weariness came over his face and he aged about ten years in that moment. “I don’t want to go back to jail. I couldn’t survive.”

  The room quieted. But Brynn’s head didn’t. “Not going to happen. The credit card incident proved your innocence.”

  “They suspect he was in cahoots with someone,” Max said.

  Brynn’s heart pounded. “What?”

  “It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Wes said. “But they have to investigate every possibility. A man’s life was taken.” He quieted. “It’s horrible. Logically, I can see why they suspect me. I discovered the body. They thought the gun was registered to me. But now they realize it’s not, someone stole my identity, I wish they’d drop it. This whole theory of my working with someone doesn’t make sense.”

  Max let out a frustrated sigh. “Grasping at straws.”

  “But why?” Becky said. “I mean, I get considering you a person of interest. But it’s a process of elimination, right? So eliminating you is as effective as arresting you.”

  Brynn picked up a pad of paper from the table and scribbled on it: David Reese. Ian Fellows. “Does anybody know if Ian has been dismissed as a suspect?”

  Wes shrugged. “I have no clue. They don’t tell me the details on the other suspects.”

  “Attempted-murder ex-con. He’s got to have something to do with it. Surely nobody in this community shot a young man for no good reason,” Becky said.

  “Is there ever a good reason?” Brynn shivered, thinking of Wes’s own experience getting shot. “How are you doing?”

  “The wound is almost healed completely. And that guy is in jail. Some justice is quick.” He stood. Brynn noted his jeans were hanging off him. He’d lost a lot of weight. She needed to do more to help prove his innocence. “I’m hungry. I guess if I want to eat, I better make something myself. You lot aren’t doing anything but sitting around.” He grinned.

  Becky stood. “I’ll help.”

  The two of them left the room.

  Brynn leaned closer to Max. “I’m so worried about him.”

  Max nodded. “We all are. It’s good his appetite is back. He’s not really eaten much. It bothers him so much that people would suspect him of murder. Then there’s this whole racist element. It’s not as if we’ve not had to deal with it before. But it really never gets any easier. We definitely stand out here.”

  Brynn tried to swallow the frustration she felt. But it wasn’t going away. What could she do to help? “Live by example” was what Granny Rose always said. Wasn’t she doing that? It didn’t seem to be enough. She thought of Helen, who was vocal about her suspicions of Wes, as was the guy flinging French fries at the fair. Were they an ignorant few? Or were there more asses in this community than she knew? She understood change came slowly to rural areas. It was a part of the charm. A double-edged charm. One side, she loved the slower pace, fewer people, easier cost of living, and on the other side . . . were remnants of an ugly past. Remnants such as racism, sexism, and complete suspicion of strangers. Brynn tried to understand it, but there was no excuse for it. None. If people chose to hide their heads in the mountain dirt and not move forward, that was one thing. But to act in such ignorant ways, to judge people on looks, nationality, or gender? Nah, that wasn’t going to fly anymore. No matter how deep in the hills you lived. And Brynn would fight it with her last breath.

  * * *

  Brynn tossed and turned that night, even with all the medicine she’d taken that normally made her sleepy. Finally, she rose out of the bed and fired up her laptop. She wanted to look up David Reese. Who was he? Schuyler had mentioned she didn’t know him well because he wasn’t from around here. Where was he from? Why did anybody assume he could leer at women the way he did and get away with it? Shame poked at her. She shouldn’t have bitten her lip. She should’ve spoken up there and then. She vowed next time she would.

  The screen flicked on. One hour a day, her doctor’s voice rang in her head. Surely this wouldn’t even take an hour. She was probably making too much of this. So David was a lech, didn’t mean he was a killer. But someone was. Why not him? He had a blog and a website for the tractor business. She clicked on it. Very attractive and professional. About David: “A Norfolk, Va., native, David, and his family, moved to the Shenandoah Valley in 2000 to follow his dream of opening a tractor business.” He had a family? Brynn had no idea. Okay, so that made his obvious lechery a bit more sinister. “A graduate of James Madison University, David fell in love with the mountains and vowed to return when he could. He’s been top sales executive for seven years in a row; he now makes his home in the most beautiful place on earth, as he likes to call it.” Brynn would give him that—it was gorgeous—but the most beautiful place on earth?

  Okay, so this was for public viewing and could have been constructed carefully. It didn’t tell her much, but she did learn a few things about him. She needed to dig beyond the tractor business. What about Facebook? Twitter?

  She clicked on Facebook and yawned. She was getting sleepy. That was a good thing.

  All of his settings were private. She’d have to send him a friend request in order to see anything about him. Did she really want to do that? She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. God knows what would become of it. But at the same time, she wanted to view his page. Nah, she’d hold off on friending him. Instead, she clicked over to Twitter.

  She keyed in his name. There were three David Reeses—one was definitely not him, as he was African-American. She clicked on one. Not him, either. Then clicked on another. There he was. She scanned his tweets. Mostly about tractors. Very few personal interactions. She clicked on who he was following. Tractor business, newspapers, and several pretty young women. Brynn clicked on one. Hmmm. Definitely a model or something, interacting with men on Twitter. But
not him. Perhaps he was too smart for that. But yes. He was definitely a man who liked beautiful women and in a creepy way. They were all quite young, as well, which gave credence to her suspicion that maybe, maybe, he had a thing for Chelsea.

  Brynn’s stomach growled. She shut the laptop and padded downstairs for a snack. She opened the refrigerator and looked for the leftover quiche. “It’s over here,” a voice rang out. Brynn gasped and turned to see Becky sitting in the dark with the pan of quiche on the table. “You scared me half to death!”

  She shut the refrigerator, opened the drawer, and reached in for a fork.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep,” Becky said.

  Brynn sat down and plunged her fork into the quiche. “Me either.”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “What’s not on my mind?” She shoveled in a bite.

  “I hear you.”

  Bright moonlight streamed in through the window. The sisters didn’t need to turn on a light. They sat with silver light beaming in on them and ate the last of the quiche.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been up at this hour,” Becky said. “It’s kind of cool. Remember how we used to raid the refrigerator at night?”

  Brynn smiled at the memory. “Mom would get so mad the next morning.”

  “Now I get it. It’s hard enough to plan meals, but then add in two teenage girls raiding the fridge when the mood strikes.” Becky grinned.

  “I wonder if teenage girls still do that?”

  “Well, who knows? How many are you acquainted with?”

  “I know a few. There’s Tillie, thin as a rail. I doubt she eats much at all. Then there’s Chelsea, who’s not exactly thin, but I bet she watches everything she eats. Her looks seem to be important to her.” Saying Chelsea’s name brought something to the front of her mind. Something simmered there but didn’t quite boil. What was it? Brynn’s head felt as if it were full of cotton. Then she remembered. “Chelsea was here, and she spent some time with Jewel.”

  Becky’s head tilted in interest. “Do you think she knows something about the collar?”

  “She might.” Of course, it made sense. She was the thing Brynn had forgotten. She was what had been picking at her brain, keeping her awake. “She’s the only other person who was around Jewel. But the question is why would she take her collar? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, she said she loved Jewel. Maybe she wanted a keepsake.” Becky paused. “Teenage girls are often emotional and attached to strange things. Maybe she wanted to keep a piece of her childhood. She seems to love Jewel.”

  True enough, but still strange. She’d call her in the morning. That would be one awkward phone call.

  Chapter 39

  Tillie stopped in after tending to the cows the next morning. Wes and she had evidently preplanned a breakfast gathering. Brynn was up and ready to eat, as was Becky.

  “Marigold is ready to pop,” Tillie said. “I can’t wait for a calf!”

  “Right? It’s going to be awesome,” Wes said as he placed a stack of banana pancakes on the table. The smell traveled straight from Brynn’s nose to her stomach.

  “I’m a little worried,” Brynn said.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Tillie reached over and patted Brynn’s hand. “I’ve seen so many cows and horses giving birth. It’s not pretty, but it’s amazing.”

  “Well, there’s that. But I’m worried about Petunia. Her emotional state. I mean, she lost a calf and had such a hard time with it.”

  “Well, she seems fine now.”

  “But what if it brings up memories?”

  Becky placed a dish of fresh whipped cream on the table. Wes put a tiny bowl of crushed walnuts next to it. Brynn took another sip of coffee. She was aching to get back to her daily life.

  “It might.” Becky sat down. “But we’ll deal with that when it happens.”

  “She and Freckles still seem to be the best of buddies.” Wes sat down and reached for the pancakes.

  “Where are your dad and Max?”

  “Sleeping in this morning. These early hours don’t suit them.” He dropped a pancake on his plate and passed the stack to Tillie. He reached for the whipped cream and plopped it onto his pancake.

  “Oh my God, this smells so good. Like a banana dream!” Tillie leaned over her plate. She passed the stack to Brynn, who loaded her plate with two pancakes chock-full of banana and spices. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. She then passed it to Becky, who by that point was almost drooling. “I want to put the whole thing in my mouth!” She put whipped cream on top and sprinkled walnuts on it. Her amber eyes were lit with excitement.

  Brynn savored the first bite, which was, indeed, a banana dream. The fresh whipped cream was a perfect complement. With each bite, Brynn’s head seemed to clean more. Walnuts were brain food, right? “I think I may be getting enough fortitude to make the phone call to Chelsea.”

  “Why would you be calling her?” Tillie’s voice held disdain. Wes looked up from his plate and Becky stopped shoveling pancakes in.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention to you-all. I suspect she took Jewel’s collar.”

  “What? Why would she do that?” Tillie tucked back into her pancake.

  “It’s missing,” Wes said. “We’ve looked all over the place. Why do you think she took it?”

  “When we came home the other day, she’d already been here, and she was visiting Jewel. She’s the only other person besides us around her. Deductive reasoning.”

  “Yes, but why take a cow collar?” Becky reached for more whipped cream.

  “I’ve no idea. But as you said last night, she’s attached to the cow and perhaps wanted a souvenir.”

  “I don’t buy it at all,” Tillie said. “Take a lock of fur, not a collar.”

  “On the one hand, your reasoning makes a world of sense. On the other hand, what’s the MO?” Wes took another bite.

  “Oh well. Let’s chalk it up to one of the weird things happening lately.” Brynn’s attention shifted to her pancake, deciding not to think too hard about Chelsea and her motives. It was a cow collar. They’d get another one. If Chelsea took it, let her have it. No, she’d not call. It would be too awkward. More awkward even than the fake job she’d made up to lure the girl in. A pang of shame tore through her. She was a teenager. Brynn had no right to do that.

  But still. No harm done. And, even more important, Brynn was still convinced Chelsea was involved with the murder of Donny Iser. She didn’t pull the trigger. But she knew something. It was too coincidental—the tractor accident had to do with her boyfriend; then the shooting victim was another one of her boyfriends. Sounded like another suitor was offing all his competition.

  Wait. People didn’t really do that, did they? It was too crazy of a thought to share with her friends and sister at the breakfast table this morning; that was for sure.

  “I’m blown away by the whole tractor thing,” Tillie said. “I mean, who knows if it was intentional? And how will they prove it?”

  “I’m assuming it was. I’m also surprised more of this kind of thing doesn’t happen, with the technological capabilities we have. I guess the FBI has a special cybersecurity unit checking into this. Should be a better way to prevent such things from happening,” Wes said.

  “Agreed. I love technology,” Becky said. “I love all the apps. The ease of banking and e-mails. But since my visit here, I’ve been considering going back to the old-fashioned way of doing things. The whole ransom ware thing is crazy. Now this remote tractor killing.”

  “All true,” Wes said. “But we know it wasn’t a computer who pulled the trigger and killed Donny. If only, maybe I’d have a bit more hope.”

  Tillie reached out and grabbed his hand. “Wes. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  Such compassion in her voice. Such hope. But Brynn’s stomach turned. How was any of this going to get better?

  * * *

  After breakfast, Tillie left and Wes gave Brynn the chore of fulfilling orders. �
��Take it slow.”

  “I think I can manage.” She refrained from rolling her eyes. She had a concussion, but she was still alive and getting better every day. She wasn’t an invalid.

  “I’m going out to the barn to check on some things and I have an appointment with my lawyer in a bit, so I won’t see you until later. Hopefully, I’ll be back to take you to the last night of the fair.”

  “You better be,” she joked.

  “Becky should be back soon. You won’t be alone long. Everything okay?”

  Becky had gone out with a grocery list. It would be the first time Brynn had been left alone since she’d gotten the concussion. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Brynn was alone with her boxes, cheese, linen, and raffia, along with all the labels and paper she needed to send the orders out with. There were fifteen. She could handle this with one arm tied behind her back.

  All the orders were for the same cheese—Buttermilk Creek Farmstead, a mild white cheese, already wrapped in a special packing material to keep it cool during shipping. Brynn wrapped each hunk in linen and placed her label on it. Then she wrapped raffia around it, cut it, and tied a sloppy bow. Nice.

  Romeo came sauntering into the kitchen and rubbed up against Brynn’s legs. “Hello, kitty.” The cat meowed back. “Poor girl, named a boy’s name. The worst name ever.” Brynn was not a fan of Romeo and Juliet and really didn’t like the name Romeo. At all. “Perhaps we should come up with another name for you.” She sat down and watched Brynn’s every move, as if she were doing the most fascinating thing ever. Such is life with cats.

  About halfway through, Brynn took a water break. She sat down and looked out her kitchen picture window. There were her three cows along with Freckles and Jewel, all hanging out together, which Brynn loved to see.

  Becky entered the house with her arms full of groceries. Brynn stood and took some bags from her. “How’s it going, Brynn?”

  “Okay. I’m about halfway through and haven’t keeled over or anything.”

  “Well, that’s good news. I’d have been here sooner, but there was quite a crowd at the grocery store. I didn’t realize that many people lived here, let alone all converged on a Thursday morning at the local grocery store. God.” She opened the fridge and placed eggs inside. Brynn usually got her eggs from the farmers’ market, but things had been a little crazy with the fair, the murder, and her concussion.