Page 2 of Exposure of Murder

“You were practically snoring out here,” Savannah said with a grin. She gazed over the swath of golden hayfields that culminated in the farm next door. “I can understand why. It’s so peaceful and beautiful.” Savannah leaned against the porch railing. “I love it here.”

“It is perfect,” agreed Jane, sighing. The Vermont farm was everything she’d imagined it to be and more. The beauty and peacefulness soothed her broken heart.

Jane unwrapped the quilt she’d covered herself with. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a terrible hostess.”

She sat up in the rocking chair she had fallen asleep in on the wide wraparound porch of her farmhouse. The chair was one of her first purchases after acquiring the farm.

Her gaze fell upon Elephant Mountain in the distance. The vibrant colors of fall in Vermont were on full display with leaves of red, orange, and yellow creating a mesmerizing kaleidoscope. The air was crisp and dry.

“No, you’re not a terrible hostess, sweetie. I’m perfectly happy entertaining myself,” replied Savannah as she grimaced, brushing hay off her shirt. “Actually, I was out in the barn playing with those adorable lambs.”

Jane laughed to herself.That would have been a sight. Savannah playing with the lambs. Savannah was her best friend from nursery school, a talented painter with a larger-than-life personality but a city girl through and through. The closest she ever got to animals was at a petting zoo, and even then, she held her nose while timidly patting the baby animals, after which she scrubbed her hands until they were red. Although, truth be told, Jane couldn’t laugh at Savannah since the closest she ever got to farming was buying organic at the farmers’ market. But she was learning.

“And talking to the sexy neighbor of yours,” Savannah added with a twinkle in her eye.

“I’m sorry, who?” Jane asked.

“Tanner McQueeney.”

“Oh, right.” Jane had met the farmer next door when she first moved in. Tanner had come over to ask her if she’d like him to continue haying the fields in exchange for a percentage of the crop.

That was an easy yes. Although at the time, she wasn’t quite sure which animals ate hay, but after getting the flock of sheep, it was a godsend.

Jane didn’t know many of her neighbors, just the ones close by.

The neighbors across the street had a couple of kids. They were a nice couple who raised miniature donkeys. Sometimes the donkeys’ braying competed with the bleating of her sheep, and she could only laugh—yeah, good times on the farm.

Her other neighbor lived at the edge of the back of her property and kept to himself. She met him one day while hiking in her woods. He’d popped up from a bush and scared the crap out of her. Lord knew what he was doing in that bush, but visions of disappearing without a trace flashed through her mind for a quick second.

However, she had seen him a couple of times since, and it turned out Marshall was nice enough, just a bit quirky. He was a hippie who kept to himself and lived almost off the grid—something she could never do. She later found out he was hiding a still back there. Everyone knew but turned a blind eye.

Overall, she was content with her life. Five months. That was how long it’d been since Mike died and Jane needed a fresh start. She stumbled upon the online brochure for the farm and planned a weekend to check it out. The drive to Beaver Creek was a blur of highway and winding roads through small towns, mountains, and forests—miles and miles of forest.

There were several large farms surrounding the property, which was located about eight miles away from a sizable town. Her first impression was that the 1850s farmhouse needed a little—well, a lot—of work. But it included a barn, 180 acres of farmland, woods and access to Beaver Creek, which was rumored to be a great fishing stream. Not that she fished, but it was good to know.

The interior, though, was from another era. The rooms were small, and the kitchen lacked modern appliances and cabinets, among other things.

However, the entire house had beautiful wide pine floors that only needed some TLC. It also had a wood-burning fireplace where she envisioned snuggling in front of a crackling fire in the winter, watching snowflakes fall and sipping hot chocolate.

The house also overlooked a pond she could swim in—eventually. It would have to be dredged and about forty degrees warmer. Currently, the pond was covered in grasses, algae and other disgusting things.

In the distance, she could see her neighbor’s cows and heard them mooing.

Perfect Vermont scenery.

During that first visit, Jane relaxed as she stood on the wide porch, inhaling the soft air filled with the earthy scent of manure and hints of maple from a sugar house down the road. It was late March, and the sap was flowing. She was home.

She’d bought the farm that day.

“Jane, it’s time for you to go shower and wash your hair.” Savannah brought her back to the present. “You’ve been vegetating too long. Put on something nice, and we’ll hit the town.” She took the quilt from Jane and folded it. “I’d love to try the Beaver Creek Saloon. It’s not far from here.” She winked. “And you just might find yourself a tall, sexy cowboy who will keep you warm this winter.”

Jane snorted. “You know we’re in Vermont, right? Not out west?”

“I know. A sexy farmer, then,” Savannah amended.

“And just so you know,” said Jane, “I’ve been to Beaver Creek Saloon. Went there one afternoon when I was feeling down. The only men you’ll find in there are grizzled, old farmers complaining about the weather, the price of seed, and whether or not their prized bull got the heifers pregnant.”

Jane stayed there long enough to talk to a sweet young woman bartender and catch snippets of the gossip from theold men. If she were still writing, oh, the tales she could tell, but that was another life ago. Long before one rude officer’s offhand remark that Mike’s death might not be random but maybe the result of something she’d written. It was just a theory but a painful one. “Besides, who wants to go to a place that’s affectionately nicknamed ‘the Beaver’?” Jane quipped.

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