Protector by Dewey Laurel

Author:Dewey, Laurel [Dewey, Laurel]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780984190539
Publisher: Story Plant, The
Published: 2010-02-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Jane drove down the mesa that overlooked Peachville. Just outside of town on the rural highway loop, she slowed the Subaru to a stop. Emily gazed into the southeast and pointed out a blackened side of the far mountain range. Jane squinted into the distance. “You’ve got good eyes. That’s the backside of the coal mine. Peachville has two industries: fruit and coal mining. There’s a coal train that comes through here at night.” Jane punched the Subaru into gear and drove down the hill that turned into Peachville’s Main Street. A row of tiny, pastel houses lined one side of the road. A quick glance showed that the ubiquitous backyard trampoline could be spotted behind a few of the cookie-cutter homes. Jane slowed to a crawl as she came up behind a worn-out, Ford pickup truck that strolled at the approved twenty mph speed limit. “God help me,” Jane mumbled. She could feel the noose tightening around her neck as she crept down Main Street. They passed Peach Street, Apple Court, Cherry Lane and Apricot Terrace.

This town that celebrated fruit also made a point to habitually name almost every shop and business with a fruity moniker. There was The Apple Cart, a hardware /gas station/convenience/video store, The Mountain Melon Market, a small supermarket that had eight aisles and felt a need to advertise the installation of “a brand-new frozen food section,” The Peachville Gazette, a weekly newspaper that boasted an amazing 3,000 subscribers, The Orange Squeeze, a tourist trap that sold old postcards and camera supplies, and The Pit, a tiny movie theater. Across the street stood The Lemon Grill, a “high end” restaurant for Peachville as opposed to The Harvest Café—the down-home, vinyl tablecloth, greasy spoon where townsfolk congregated. Squashed in the middle of all this was the small, brick building that housed the County Sheriff. Jane made a special note of its location, quickly surveyed the structure and privately wondered if it resembled the fictional Mayberry Sheriff’s headquarters, complete with two empty cells and an inept deputy. Finally, at the end of Main Street, stood Peachville Properties, the real estate office that served as the sole source for ranches, farms and rental units. Jane parked in front of Peachville Properties and turned to Emily. “Okay, let’s keep this simple. I want to get in and out of here without a lot of talking.”

A happy little bell attached to the front door signaled Jane and Emily’s entrance. The white walled business was neat and smelled of rose potpourri and a fresh print run of the latest Peachville Properties Home & Farm Guide.

A young, bright-eyed girl approached Jane. “Can I help you two?”

“I’m looking for Kathy. She’s holding a rental house for us. I need the key.”

Jane’s attention was drawn to the back corner of the office where a woman in her early thirties was talking on the phone and excitedly waving at Jane.

“She’s just finishing up with a client,” the girl said. “You can have a seat—”

“We’ll stand, thank you,” Jane said abruptly.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.