She was waiting for him to comment, and when he didn’t, she said, “Selling would probably be best for everyone. Andrea and I together couldn’t buy out Robbie, so that’s that. And I don’t know how I’d support this place.”
“How did your mother do it?”
“She rented out the fields to another farmer.”
“Really?” His interest was instantaneous. “Is he still around?”
“Gil Compton, yes, he is.” She turned to look at him. “I see where you’re going. Maybe he saw something over the years, something or someone.”
“Maybe we should put him on the list of people to talk to.”
“It would. Good call. I wouldn’t have thought of him.”
“That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.”
“Oh, right. We need to talk about that.” The phone in her pocket rang and she answered it right away. “Regan. Were you able to speak with Mitch?”
“I was. Unfortunately, the Bureau doesn’t have the case yet. As a matter of fact, no request has been made. His boss is going to call the county DA in the morning and offer assistance, but until that happens, he’s reluctant to get involved. There was a little fallout from the fax thing. Your police chief called the Bureau. Mitch got his hand slapped.”
“Ouch. I’m so sorry that happened. Please apologize to him for me.”
“He doesn’t blame you. He blames the cops for having put T.J. in that position in the first place. They know the law. They’re supposed to follow it.”
“Still…”
“Still nothing. The reports should have been handed over. They can charge for them, but not withhold them.”
A van pulled into the driveway. T.J. got up and walked down to meet it.
“There’s another damned reporter here,” Lorna said.
“That’s only going to get worse. I think you should call your police department and tell them that you need a car there to keep trespassers off the property.”
“Fat chance. No one there is speaking to me unless they have to.”
“Well, they have to. They can’t pick and choose who they’re going to protect. Hang up and call them.” Regan paused, then said, “Are you alone there?”
“Well, T.J. is here now, but he’ll be leaving.”
“Why don’t I drive up there and spend a few days, just till this blows over and something else takes its place on the news.”
“Drive up? Aren’t you in Princeton? Wouldn’t that be ‘drive down’?”
“My dad’s place is in Princeton. My house is on the Eastern Shore. Right around St. Michaels. I’m probably not an hour from you. Not a bad drive.”
“I thought you had a book due.”
“They moved it on the schedule, changed the publication date. I can take a little time off. What do you say? Want a roommate for a few days?”
“Actually, I’d love it. If you’re certain it’s not an imposition.”
“Hey, I offered. I want to. Give me directions from around Rising Sun.”
Lorna did.
“Piece of cake to find you,” Regan said. “I’m going to hang up and throw some clothes into an overnight bag, and then I’ll leave. In the meantime, call the police department. Make ’em earn your tax dollars.”
They each hung up, and Lorna stood to look down the drive. T.J. was still talking to whoever was in the van. Lorna was about to walk down to see what was going on when the van made a U-turn and took a left on Callen Road.
“What was that all about?” she asked T.J. as he approached the house.
“Network news, Wilmington affiliate. I told them the farmhouse was off-limits. Not that that will do any good.”
“Regan’s coming up to spend the night,” she told him. “She suggested I call the police and have them send a car to keep an eye on things.”
“I was going to suggest the very same thing. I’m not comfortable with you being here alone. Some of these people will go to ridiculous lengths to get their story. It’s better if the police are around and you have someone in the house with you. Call them now.”
“I don’t think my request will be well received.”
His jaw tightened. “Too bad. That’s their job. Go on, give them a call while I’m still here.”
She went into the house to look up the number and realized that it was well past the dinner hour. She should offer to feed T.J. She dialed the number for the station and peered into the refrigerator while the line rang. Lots of vegetables… eggs… seltzer. Somehow, T.J. didn’t look like the type of man you’d invite for quiche and sparkling water.
“Callen Police.”
She knew the voice.
“Brad?”
“Yes?”
“Lorna Stiles.”
“Yes?”
“Brad, I’m having a problem here, with reporters coming to the house.”
“And what would you like me to do about it?”
“I would like you, acting on behalf of my local police department, to send a car over to patrol the property during the night, more than just the quick drive-by you’ve been doing.”
“Need protection from a few reporters, do you?” He laughed. “Maybe you should call your friends at the FBI.”
“And what do you suppose the feds would say if I told them my local police department refused me protection when I felt threatened?”
A long, unpleasant silence followed.
“I’ll send Bobby Markham over.” He paused, then asked, “Will there be anything else?’
“No, thank you very much. I appreciate it, Officer Walker. Be sure to thank Chief Walker for me.”
She hung up, and grinning, walked back outside.
“They’re sending a car,” she told T.J. “I’m ordering pizza. What’s your preference?”
11
“Lori?”
“Andrea?” Lorna glanced at the kitchen clock. “You’re up awfully early. What time is it out there, five-thirty?”
“I couldn’t sleep. The baby kept me awake all night so I got up”-Andrea’s words shot through the phone, gathering speed-“and came downstairs and turned on the TV…”
Uh-oh.
“… and what do I see but our house…” she took a breath, “… at least, it looks like our house, Lori. But back when I lived there, it was referred to as the ‘old Palmer farm.’ The house on the TV was being called ‘The Body Farm.’ ”
Andrea paused, then said, “Please tell me they’re talking about somebody else’s farm.”