“Thanks, Lawton.” Casey gave him a nod. “I appreciate the information. You need anything out here? Water? Coffee?”

  The older man shook his head. “I’m good. Got a thermos still half full of coffee and a couple more bottles of water.

  “How well do you know Naomi?” Lawton asked when Casey would have turned to go back into the house.

  “I don’t know her,” Casey said, which was basically true.

  “Oh.” Lawton shrugged. “I just thought the two of you were close.”

  This was the man’s roundabout way of pointing out that he was aware Casey had been in the house all night while he was out here in his county cruiser.

  “It’s my job to make sure Ms. Honea stays safe. If sleeping on her couch makes that possible, then I can handle it.”

  “We do what we have to,” the older man said with a chuckle.

  Casey considered saying more but decided against it as he watched the deputy slide back behind the wheel of his vehicle. A small-town thing, he decided as he headed back into the house. When everyone knew everyone else, it was human nature to be curious about a change or disruption to the norm.

  As he unlocked the door a light came on inside. “It’s me, Casey Duncan,” he said as he opened the door.

  For all he knew Naomi could have her dad’s shotgun. He’d seen one propped behind the door in the man’s bedroom. He felt confident Naomi knew it was there even if she hadn’t bothered moving it—or anything else in her parents’ bedroom for that matter. The room was like a shrine to the late Honeas.

  It was a big enough house, he supposed, no need to be in a rush to clear out or pack up their things.

  Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Naomi pressed a hand to her chest. “You scared the hell out of me. I heard voices outside and I worried that something else had happened.” She closed her eyes, shook her head before meeting his gaze once more. “Anyway, is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” he assured her. He closed the door and locked it. “The voices you heard were Deputy Lawton and me. We had a look around outside.”

  “Why?” She moved toward the sofa.

  He raised his eyebrows in question. “Why what?”

  “Why were you looking outside at this hour of the morning?”

  He should have known that question would be coming. “I heard a noise and went to check it out.” He explained the circumstances. “No worries. It’s all good.”

  She pushed her hair back from her face, glanced around. “Okay, well, I’ll be back down in a bit. Feel free to get some more sleep or make coffee or whatever.”

  He tried his best to keep the smile from his face. He got it now. She’d just realized she was standing there in a nightshirt and with her hair a wild mass of curls.

  He loved it.

  She hurried back upstairs.

  He glanced at the couch. More sleep was out of the question. He’d log into the server via his cell and have a look at the latest reports from forensics.

  Keeping his mind off the woman upstairs would be best for both of them.

  Honea Farm, 8:00 a.m.

  NAOMI NIBBLED A slice of buttery toast and contemplated how she could possibly answer the multitude of emails and text messages from concerned CSA subscribers. There was no way she would be making this week’s delivery. Chances were she wouldn’t be able to make the one after that. Sean and Joe were being allowed to come back to work tomorrow but how could she do anything until she understood the situation more fully?

  Any second now she expected to receive notification that all deliveries were to be halted until a health and agriculture department investigation could be done. The farm’s certification was unquestionably in jeopardy.

  This was a major catastrophe. Thinking beyond the fact that people had died had been difficult until now. But at this point she had to face the reality that maybe she should have sold the farm last year.

  And she’d been so certain she was doing the right thing for her parents’ legacy. For her future.

  She tossed the remainder of the toast into the trash. She needed more coffee.

  Casey had left the house half an hour ago to meet his team in the lab. He hadn’t mentioned any new developments. No news so far on the remains from the freezer. The identification could take months or years.

  She’d spent some time searching the internet about human composting. Her stomach seized at the thought. It was a tricky business. Bodies used had to be tested for certain issues that might be passed along in the soil and onto plants. It wasn’t an “anything goes” sort of concept. There were rules and laws and licenses. Not unlike the many, many hoops to jump through for an organic certification. If the remains found here were tested and any issues discovered, the situation would grow exponentially worse for her farm.

  For the first time since Casey had shown her those bank statements, she asked herself if there was even the remotest possibility her dad could have known what Arlene was doing. This was assuming Arlene was the one responsible for this ungodly mess. Who else could it be?

  There could be no other explanation in light of the money found in that house she leased. The box with the head inside had been addressed to that property. No question. Arlene’s friend, Mr. Cotton, had said she used the house on High Street for deliveries.

  There just wasn’t any other explanation.

  To pretend otherwise was beyond ridiculous at this point. She looked out the kitchen window at the lab. A swarm of federal agents had arrived and spread out over her farm. People were coming in and out of the lab. She felt like a rat watching the comings and goings and uncertain when the trap would snap, catching her in its lethal hammer.

  She had to do something.

  Naomi grabbed her jacket, tucked her phone into the pocket and walked out the back door. This was her property. She had agreed to whatever searches the authorities needed to do but she had a right to know what was happening.

  She hadn’t seen Sheriff Tanner or Chief Brannigan today. This was the FBI’s case now so she wasn’t sure when or if she would hear from them again. She felt confident they were being kept in the loop. At least, that was the way it worked in crime shows in the movies and on television.

  The ground was drying up, which was a good thing. There was work that needed to be done. Until this week the rain hadn’t let up. The only thing she knew to do was to carry on with the fall planting and winter prep. This farm was now her livelihood. If the farm went under, so did she.

  The idea that Arlene could have more money hidden around the property crossed her mind. She really had to be losing it to think that way. And would the government seize the farm as a criminal venture?

  More knots formed in her belly.

  The lab door opened and an agent exited. This one was a woman. She smiled and nodded and hurried to a vehicle parked near the house. Naomi had no idea exactly how many agents were here or what they were all doing. Sometimes ignorance was bliss. Hopefully this was one of those times.

  She opened the door and stepped into the lab, breathing in the familiar scents. She surveyed the faces she saw in search of Casey. Some of the agents looked familiar. She’d seen them around before. But others were strangers.

  “Is there something you need, Ms. Honea?”

  The voice behind her startled her. She turned to face the man who’d spoken. “I’m looking for Agent Duncan.”

  “He’s in the office on a Zoom call with our forensics team leader back at headquarters. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

  She glanced toward the office—her office—and spotted him immediately, seated behind her desk. Another agent sat in the chair Arlene always used. Both were in deep discussion with a face on the computer monitor. A briefing, she supposed. Or maybe news from another source.

  “I’ll wait.”

  The agent wandered away.

  Naomi walked to the storeroom door, noted the two agents going through boxes and packages, canisters and jars. They appeared to be taking samples. Made sense. Everything was suspect now. She wandered to the greenhouse area and checked the plants. They were really only seedlings at this point but soon they would be ready to move to the larger greenhouse for growing winter greens. Once they were moved out, new seeds would be planted to start the spring plants.

  No matter that winter brought dormancy to much of the farm, there was always work to do in the greenhouses. Always a step that led into another on the land. An endless cycle that reaffirmed the beauty and endurance of nature.

  As a little girl she’d loved playing in the dirt. Her mother had adored flowers and she’d planted all sorts around the house in pots and beds. But as the organic farm operation grew, the time to spend with her flowers had grown less and less. Naomi had intended to start growing a few of her mother’s favorites again next spring. Just a pot here and there around the porch. The house needed some color. Starting with a few potted blooming plants seemed an easy enough place to start. She’d also considered getting a dog. Growing up there had always been a dog on the farm.

  Just another of the things that had changed after she moved to California.

  Not for the first time she wondered if she had stayed would she have been able to make life easier for her mom. Maybe her dad wouldn’t have had that sudden heart attack. Why hadn’t she come back after her mom died and stayed? Some part of her had recognized her dad likely needed her. But the part in that movie had just been offered. Even her dad had urged her to go back to her life. He and Arlene could take care of the farm.

  She should have stayed. Whatever happened over the past years led to this.

  Naomi scanned the comings and goings around her.

  Murder.

  Why hadn’t he said anything?

  She’d visited at least once a year. Called two or three times a month. He’d never said a word.

  Guilt weighed down on her shoulders. Made her feel sick.

  Drawing in a deep breath she kicked aside the self-pity. This was no time to worry about what-if. She couldn’t fully depend on anyone else to clear her dad’s name. It was up to her to make sure the authorities found the truth. Like Casey said, she was the only one who could advocate for her parents.

  The office door opened, and Casey and the other agent emerged. As if he’d sensed her presence his gaze landed on hers. He said something to the other agent and then started in her direction.

  Despite everything else that was going on, she couldn’t help admiring the way he moved. The ease with which he pulled off that sexy, masculine swagger amazed her. So not smart, Naomi.

  The instant he reached her, he asked, “Everything okay?”

  She was fairly certain nothing would ever be okay again, but she didn’t bother explaining the feeling. “As okay as it can be. Any news from your people?”

  “We have a DNA match for one of the three victims in the freezer. The name likely won’t mean anything to you. Jimmy Bagwell of Chicago. The word was his boss caught him skimming the weekly takes. He disappeared about a month ago.”

  “Are you serious? Another connection to organized crime?” What the hell had Arlene been doing? Running a disposal service for the mob?

  “We should talk in your office.”

  Something in his voice warned that things were about to get worse. Defeat tugged at her as she followed him across the lab.

  He closed the door of the office and waited for her to sit. She took her rolling chair and he settled into Arlene’s. Except Arlene didn’t need it anymore. She was dead. Never coming back. Arlene had been involved with bad people, doing very bad things. Getting rid of evidence—bodies. The realization jarred her. She pushed back the emotion and held on to her composure with both hands.

  “It’s becoming clearer and clearer that Beck was providing a disposal service.”

  “I actually just had that very thought.” Her head was spinning now. It was one thing to consider an off-the-wall theory but to have an official confirm the possibility was mind-blowing.

  “Whether it was disposal or whatever, she was working with very dangerous people. Considering she was murdered, we can safely assume something went wrong. She made a mistake. Crossed a line, ticked somebody off. Take your pick. The concern now is if there’s another shoe going to drop. Did Arlene owe them something they didn’t get?”

  “Like maybe all that money in the walls on High Street?” But weren’t they supposed to be paying her?

  “Maybe it was about the money,” Casey said, “but I’m guessing they knew about the address and would have torn the place apart if they were looking for money or something easily stored in a wall or under a floor.”

  Naomi felt ill. “But there’s something. Something she did or didn’t do.”

  “Most likely,” he said. “You were going to talk to someone? An uncle, maybe? Were you able to find him?”

  Oh, good grief. She had completely forgotten about her visit to Donnie and then the hermit over in Shake Rag. “Yes, I’m sorry. With all that’s been going on I completely forgot to share what I’d learned with you.”

  “Anything significant?”

  “I’m not sure. My uncle couldn’t remember where Arlene lived before moving to Winchester. He did recall that she had a sort of thing, maybe only a friendship, with this man—Mr. Cotton, over in Shake Rag. I was able to catch him at home. It was a strange conversation. He said a good deal without saying anything that meant a thing as far as I could tell. When I told him Arlene was dead, he mentioned that they—whoever they is—were probably on to what she was involved in. He was very cryptic.”

  “He didn’t explain what he meant?”

  She shook her head. “He said I would know soon enough. And he mentioned that Arlene had learned from the master.”

  “Sounds like we need to talk to him again.” Casey stood. “You free now?”

  “Sure.” She was surprised that he wanted her to go with him.

  “He may speak more openly since you’ve talked to him before.”

  Made sense. “Okay.”

  “Besides—” he reached for his jacket “—you know the way, right?”

  “Yes. I...I do.” She hoped the man didn’t shoot at them this time.

  Most folks in Franklin County kept at least a shotgun or a rifle in the house. Then again, Casey had a weapon. She supposed that evened the odds. But a man like Cotton—already on the edge and obviously troubled—probably lived by the motto that he had nothing to lose.

  Guess they would find out.

  Chapter Ten

  Shake Rag, 10:15 a.m.

  “Did I mention this was a bit off the grid?”

  Casey parked. “You mentioned it, yes.” He glanced around the woods that marched right up to the narrow dirt road that stopped a good distance from the cabin barely visible in the distance. “You came out here alone?”

  “I grew up here, so I’m used to this sort of thing.” Naomi reached for her seat belt. “Mainly, I think I was running on adrenaline.”

  He grunted. The lady was definitely pretty fearless. The weight of the weapon nestled against his torso was reassuring. Off-the-grid types like the individual in this case could be a little sensitive to strangers.

  “Let’s see if he’s accepting visitors.” Casey emerged from the vehicle and adjusted his jacket. He really didn’t want to get himself shot today. As he moved beyond the hood, he glanced at Naomi. He definitely did not want her to get hurt. “Stay behind me.”

  “Somehow it didn’t look quite so ominous before.”

  “Desperation sometimes prevents us from seeing the danger before we make the leap.”

  “I’ve taken a few leaps like that in my time,” she confessed.

  “You were fearless even at eleven,” he pointed out as they started moving toward the small ramshackle structure ahead.

  She laughed, then covered her mouth and stared forward as if expecting the hermit to start calling out threats to halt or else.

  God, she had the bluest eyes.

  Focus, man.

  He parked his attention back on the potential danger lying ahead. This was no time to go wandering off the task at hand.

  “I have no idea what you mean, Agent Duncan,” she said in a stage whisper. “I’ve never considered myself fearless.”

  “The rule was no diving off the pier.”

  She stalled, looked at him. “Oh my God. I jumped.”

  The words came out in a sort of awe as if she’d only just remembered that long ago day.

  “You did. We had decided we were going to do it. Before either one of us had the good sense to stop, we were both standing on the railing. Someone shouted, No diving. The next thing we knew people, including security, were rushing toward us. We looked at each other and you just grinned and said, Are you brave enough to jump? Then you jumped. I didn’t have the guts.”

  “My parents had a fit. I didn’t understand all the fuss. I was a great swimmer. It was amazing. Those moments in the air before I hit the water were incredible.”

  “I think it had to do with sharks, rough waters and pilings. You know, all that dangerous stuff.”

  The image of strands of her red hair in the breeze, those blue eyes sparkling with mischief. And that smile. He’d never forgotten that moment.

  “I thought I was a mermaid in disguise. There was nothing to fear.”

  A mermaid. The perfect description.

  “I almost gave my mom a heart attack.” She shook her head. “It really was a foolish thing to do.”

  Now he felt guilty. “It may have been my fault.”

  She stared at him now, but he kept his eyes on the shack ahead. “How could it have been your fault? I’m the one who chose to jump.”

  “I recall there being a double dog dare involved.”