car and responding to emergencies. Though her brother’s influence in the GGPD meant she and Luis would catch the tamest emergency calls, anything was better than sitting at a desk all day.
Annabel had followed her dreams in becoming a police officer, and she hoped, with more hard work, it would be everything she’d imagined. She’d like to stop actual criminals, prevent crime and be a positive influence on the Granite Gulch community. While she alone couldn’t repay the huge debt her father owed society for his crimes, Annabel felt better knowing she was doing her best.
Maybe someday soon, that would start to feel like enough.
* * *
Another farmhand hadn’t shown up for work. Given the week he was having, Jesse Willard was in no mood to deal with additional problems the lack of help created. Longer hours and less sleep, the downsides of being the boss.
Owning a farm had been his dream, and it had its ups and downs. Lately, far more downs than ups.
Several important customers had cancelled their orders with him. They had hedged around the reason, but Jesse knew. He’d heard the rumors circulating in town that his sister—more specifically, his half sister—Regina was involved with the murders around Granite Gulch and nearby towns. Living in a small town meant the close-knit community led folks to believe everyone’s business was their business. Jesse lived forty minutes from Main Street, and he kept his visits to town brief. He was polite but detached when the town busybodies circled him. He preferred to keep to himself, but rumors about Regina were persistent. The Alphabet Killer was big news, and he couldn’t go a day without someone speculating on the reasons for the murders or the next victim.
Jesse didn’t know why the police and FBI suspected Regina. His older sister was a little off, and she could be disagreeable, but that was a far cry from being a murderer. He suspected it was more guesswork than actual evidence involved. Regina wasn’t capable of committing a murder, especially not a series of murders that were as methodical and cold as the media was describing.
Jesse had driven to the police station that morning, thinking the police would be reasonable. He’d thought they could talk man-to-man, but of course those Colton brothers thought they owned Granite Gulch. Their family tree had its share of nuts, but that didn’t slow them down. They thought Regina was the murderer, and they were bent on proving it. Maybe they believed themselves experts because they’d lived through an ordeal with their father. The similarities in the cases, which the media were quick to point out, were disturbing.
Why were they investigating the case anyway? Weren’t there serious conflicts of interest with the children of a serial killer investigating another serial killer, especially when the cases were connected?
It was another backward thing about Granite Gulch. It ran by its own rules. Add that to the reasons Jesse preferred to keep to himself.
Knowing he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, he headed to the barn. He needed to check his supplies and calculate what to order. Losing customers was rough when his profit margins were slim, but he’d find somewhere to cut extras from the budget.
Some days, he wished he hadn’t bought this farm. He loved being his own boss and setting his own hours, but there was a freedom in working as a farmhand, migrating to a new place on a whim. Setting his own hours often meant working seven days a week to complete tasks, spending ten hours in the field and then handling bills and paperwork another two hours at night.
As he inventoried, Jesse’s thoughts turned to the brunette he had run into that morning at the police precinct. In keeping with his luck, she had been wearing a police uniform. That should have turned him off immediately, but she filled it out nicely and it made him forget how much he detested the sight of the navy uniform in general. The brunette cop was trim and shapely, a woman who could get him going.
Her eyes were intelligent and trusting. She must not have been a cop long. The cops he knew were hard around the edges, having too many experiences with criminals and liars to see the good in people anymore. Most of Jesse’s memories of the police from his childhood were bad: yelling and sweeping in without fixing the problem. When they’d left, it had always been worse.
Maybe the Coltons’ jobs were making them cynical and eager to rush to judgment. They’d grown up with a serial killer for a father who’d murdered their mother. That had to have destroyed them. Who wouldn’t be traumatized by a childhood of violence and loss and spending their careers with liars and criminals? Jesse knew firsthand exactly how hard it was to keep the past as ancient history and not let it creep into everyday life.
“Hey, Mr. Jesse!”
At the sound of Noah’s voice, Jesse’s bad mood lifted. Noah was the son of one of his farmhands and sometimes came with his mother to work. Noah liked talking to Jesse, and since he didn’t cause trouble and his mother worked hard, Jesse didn’t have complaints about him tagging along behind him. He’d actually grown accustomed to the boy’s company and enjoyed listening to his stories.
“Did you hear the good news?” Noah asked.
Jesse could use some good news. “Nah, what did I miss?”
Sometimes, Noah’s news was about his sixth grade class, which wasn’t anything for Jesse to get excited about, but the boy needed to talk. Jesse hoped he could sometimes offer advice to keep Noah on the straight and narrow. He was a good kid, and, despite his father having left Noah and his mom before Noah was born, Noah didn’t seem lacking in parental love.
Noah tipped his red ball cap back on his head. “Mom’s having a baby.”
Jesse stopped, unsure if he had misheard Noah. The boy was right behind him. He turned. “Your mother is pregnant?”
“That’s what she said. It’s a secret, though, so don’t let it get around town.”
Jesse tried to remember what tasks Grace had been assigned for the day. Monitoring the cows? She could get kicked in the stomach. Repairing fencing? That was heavy, hard work. Grace was an experienced farmhand. Should he approach her? Let her know he could give her modified assignments? Offer her leave from work? Jesse knew nothing about babies and even less about pregnancy. What was the right thing to do?
His conscience wouldn’t rest easy until he spoke with Grace. As not to alarm Noah or make the boy think he had caused any problem, he set down his clipboard. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you give me a hand and take that bag of duck feed to the pond?” It was a task Noah loved, and it had gotten to the point that, when the ducks saw Noah coming, they flocked toward him.
Noah grabbed the small bag of feed. “Okay. Be right back!”
Jesse checked the task schedule. Grace was assigned to the horses that day. He found Grace right where she should have been, feeding the horses. “Hey, Grace.”
She jumped at the sound of her name and turned. “Hey, boss.”
“Everything okay?” he asked. He didn’t want to ask her directly in case she wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Grace was smart. Lines formed around the corners of her eyes. “Noah told you.” She sighed.
He didn’t want the boy in trouble. “He cares about you and so do I. I can pretend not to know until you’re ready to tell me. But I want you to know I have plenty of work that might be less taxing. But it’s up to you, okay?”
Grace brushed her long brown bangs to the side. The rest of her hair was twisted on the back of her head and pinned. “The others will be upset if I’m given the easy work.”
Jesse folded his arms. “There is nothing easy on this farm, and everyone knows it. Plus, I’m the boss. What I say goes. When Tom broke his arm last year in that car accident, no one said a thing when he was given work he could manage.”
Grace’s eyes filled with tears, and she hugged Jesse. “Thank you.” After a couple seconds, she broke away and wiped at her eyes. “I’ve been tired and emotional. I was worried about telling you and the other guys. I don’t want anyone to