Stonebrook Cottage by Carla Neggers

Author:Carla Neggers [Neggers, Carla]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Suspense
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2002-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

Allyson led Sam along a wide lane through the woods, explaining that it had all been farmland at the turn of the twentieth century. She pointed out the old stone walls that used to mark the fields, the occasional fence post and length of rusted barbed wire, the relative youth of the forest itself. When she thought about the power of nature, she said, she didn’t fret so much about the gravel pit out over the hill.

Sam listened and said little.

They came to a stand of poplars, and she continued, unbothered, it seemed, by his lack of response. “Charlie and Pete Jericho will give nature a helping hand, but even if they didn’t, it’d happen over time—just too long a time to satisfy my mother-in-law.” She smiled at Sam, but he noticed her eyes remained difficult to read. “Madeleine insists the gravel pit’s not much better than a strip mine, but that’s not fair. There’ll be fines and general hell to pay if it doesn’t get restored. She’d like it a lot less if the Jerichos chopped up their property into estate lots and sold them for a fortune, I can tell you that.”

“What about zoning?”

“It’s very strict in some towns, less so here in Bluefield. Connecticut has a forever-farmland program, where the state buys the development rights of a property in exchange for it remaining farmland, but the Jerichos haven’t applied. They just keep working the land in their own way.”

Sam glanced around him, the shade shifting in the late-morning sun. “It’s beautiful land out here.”

She smiled. “Yes, it is.”

They crossed a narrow, muddy stream. A swarm of mosquitoes found them and followed them out to drier ground. One fat mosquito stayed with Sam all the way out to the end of the lane, where they came to a rolling field of orange and yellow wildflowers and tall, straw-like grass that swayed in the breeze. Across the field, against the bright, clean sky, were the immaculate buildings of what he assumed was the Stockwell estate.

“Madeleine still calls it Stockwell Farm.” Allyson lingered in the shade. “They’ve never raised stock or grown crops for sale, but they were almost self-sufficient for a while when my husband was growing up here.” She laughed suddenly, almost embarrassed. “Do you have this effect on everyone? I’m just yammering on.”

“Feel free,” Sam said.

“The Stockwells have a great deal of money. I don’t. I’m comfortable, but the bulk of my husband’s estate is held in trust for our children. Don’t get me wrong, as Connecticut goes, they’re not super-wealthy. I mean, they’re not Rockefeller rich—”

“They never owned land that was turned into a national park?”

She tilted her head back, eyeing him. “Do you have a problem with wealth, Sergeant Temple?”

“No, ma’am. Not me.” He grinned at her. “I’m from Texas.”

“My God. Have you smiled at Kara like that?”

“Has no effect on her.”

“That’s what you think, is it?”

He didn’t, not really, but he wasn’t discussing Kara with the governor of Connecticut, no matter how long she and Kara had known each other.

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