she doesn’t.”
“We have an executed contract.”
“You have a photocopy.”
“A binding photocopy.”
“Maybe.”
Bradley looked irritated.
“Deputy, you’re not qualified to determine contract validity.”
“Correct.”
“So you need to prevent Mr. Mercer from destroying property subject to a commercial agreement until a court can review—”
Ben held up a hand.
“I’m definitely qualified to determine who owns the corn.”
Bradley glanced toward the field.
“Ownership is complicated by the recreational-use clause.”
“Not complicated for me.”
I had walked over by then.
Bradley looked at me.
“Mr. Mercer, I strongly advise you to stop harvesting until this dispute is resolved.”
“Are you my attorney?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll take advice from mine.”
As if on cue, Rachel’s silver SUV came up the lane.
She stepped out carrying a leather briefcase.
Five foot four.
Brown hair pinned behind her neck.
Gray suit.
The calmest woman I had ever met.
Rachel had
