Crunch Time by Diane Mott Davidson

Author:Diane Mott Davidson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2011-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

14

I said, “Thanks for all your help,” then hugged her and hustled out to my van.

On the way back to town, my cell phone began beeping. I had three messages. Three? Why hadn’t my cell rung?

Tom’s voice said, “Miss G.? Where are you? I’m just getting back to you now, sorry, it’s been a firestorm at the sheriff’s department. Please call me.”

Then Yolanda announced, “Hi! We finished at the doctor’s office. I’m driving back up from Denver now. When we get to your place, I’ll check your schedule to pack everything up. See you soon.”

Once again, Tom’s voice implored me: “Miss G.? I know I didn’t answer your earlier message, but now I’m getting worried that you haven’t called me back. Are you all right? Please call me as soon as you get this message. This morning I had meetings, and then I was out of cell range.”

I called him back immediately, and he picked up on the first ring. “Sorry, Tom,” I burst out. “I was out at Sabine Rushmore’s place. She lives near the wildlife preserve.”

“Goldy, what in hell were you doing out there?”

“Tom, look. I was just trying to figure out who broke into—”

“Miss G., we’ve been having reports of shots fired out there for weeks. It’s what I was working on when Ernest was killed. And in case you didn’t know, it’s not hunting season—”

“I know, I know! Sabine and I heard gunshots—”

“Oh, Christ.” Tom groaned. “You weren’t out in that area where we had the big wildfire a couple of years ago, were you?”

“But . . . that’s less than a mile from where we were. Why?”

“Please listen.” Tom’s tone turned guarded, as if someone were hovering nearby. “I don’t want you out there anymore.”

“Listen, Tom! Sabine saw a bald guy who might be running a puppy mill. I didn’t see him, though, and Sabine didn’t know where he might be—”

“Goldy! Will you please not go out to the preserve?”

“Oh, Tom. Sabine and her husband live right—”

“Please? We have a big problem in that area that I’m not at liberty to discuss. In fact, I don’t want you going to any remote locations at or near the preserve.”

Okay, somebody really was standing right next to Tom. I asked, “Will you tell me later?”

He said, “Maybe,” and then announced that he had to go.

“But I need to talk to you! Did you reach Hermie Mikulski? Did you talk to Charlene Newgate? Because I thought I saw—”

“You’re breaking up,” said Tom through static. Then his voice was gone.

Damn it. I hadn’t been able to tell Tom about how Hermie had lost her fingers. Nor had I shared the details of Hermie’s suspicions of a guy running a puppy mill on his property, with a legit breeding operation as cover, a guy Sabine might have encountered, who was bald. And then there was that car that I thought had been Charlene Newgate’s BMW, also on its way out to the preserve.

Speaking of which, what was going on out

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