Page 38 of Silent Threat
As she caught his gaze, her expression switched from amusement to concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Hungry.” He said the first thing that came into his mind.
“Want to grab a sandwich before we head back?”
“Depends. Is it tofu? Because—” He bit off the rest. When was the last time he’d teased anyone? He couldn’t remember.
Before he could think too much about it, she asked, “How about organic ham and local cheese on rye bread with some greens?”
His stomach growled in answer.
He followed her inside the house through the back door. “Since we’re in here, I take it Ed found no structural damage?”
He took two more steps before he stopped in his tracks. The wall between the kitchen and the living room had been knocked down and left there. Drywall and broken two-by-fours sat in dusty piles.
She turned from the rubble as if it hurt to look at the mess. Hell, it hurthim,and he had nothing to do with the place.
“No structural damage,” she said. “Let’s eat outside anyway. I’ll grab the food from the fridge.”
Her backyard was pretty simple, about a quarter of an acre, all fenced in, all grass, unmowed. She probably left it like that for her animals. She also had half a bale of hay tossed out there in the middle, and a lone picnic table with attached benches on the gravel patio.
“Won’t the ham upset the pig?” he asked as he helped her carry out the packages.
“If she asks, we’ll say it’s tofu.” She gave a soft sigh. “Dorothy belonged to an old couple. Some neighborhood boys stole her one night. They had the brilliant idea of cutting a rack of bacon out of her.”
“She squealed like a pig and escaped?”
“Something like that. I talked with Edna and Al and offered to keep Dorothy while she was healing since they both walk with walkers. Catching her to disinfect the wound and change bandages wasn’t going to happen. By the time she had healed, Al was in the hospital with a stroke. Edna asked me if I could keep Dorothy permanently.”
Maybe the pig sensed the true origins of the lunch platter on the picnic table, because she stayed away.
The llamas and the donkey came over to investigate. The llamas moved on after a few seconds, but Annie had to shoo Esmeralda away from the bread.
The back fence stood about fifty yards from her back door. Right behind it, a massive cornfield began. The corn was still green, seven or eight feet tall in places.
Cole didn’t like the lack of visibility. Someone could be skulking fifty yards from Annie’s house, and she’d never know. Someone could hide in that corn and watch her. While Annie sat at her weatherworn picnic table, Cole strode to the fence and walked the perimeter.
The menagerie followed him, as if they were going for a walk together. When he stopped, Esmeralda tried to nip his butt.
“Hey.”
The donkey blinked her one eye at him, the picture of innocence.
Cole pointed a warning finger at Esmeralda, then turned toward the house. The tarp would do little to keep someone out. The four windows had curtains, but none were drawn. At night, with the lights on, if someone was standing where Cole was right now, he could see right in.
One window belonged to the kitchen, over the sink. He wasn’t sure about the others. Was her bedroom window on this side of the house?
He turned toward the cornfield. He didn’t know much about farming. When did they cut corn?The sooner the better.
His gaze snagged on a spot where the weeds were trampled.
A faint path led into the corn.Deer trail?
Maybe deer regularly cut through the corn and jumped Annie’s fence here, then cut through the property. Maybe they helped themselves to some of the hay she put out for the llamas and the donkey.
On Cole’s side of the fence, he couldn’t see if the track continued, since Annie’s animals walked all over the backyard, trampling every square inch.
Annie waved at him from the picnic table, her expression warm, her movements graceful. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t read them from this distance. He didn’t need to. The body language was enough. She was telling him to come and eat.
