the ground.
That was interesting.
Rachel noticed it too.
“Mrs. Price?”
Linda’s head lifted.
She was around sixty.
Silver-blond hair.
Expensive quilted jacket.
Nervous hands.
“What?”
“You seem familiar with the document.”
“No.”
“You looked concerned.”
“I’m concerned because Mr. Mercer is ruining months of work.”
Tyler drove another row.
A hundred feet of maze disappeared behind the combine.
Rachel glanced toward it.
“Technically, you ruined months of his work first.”
Linda didn’t respond.
At 6:15, two more sheriff’s deputies arrived.
Volunteers began leaving.
Some were angry.
Most looked embarrassed.
One older man approached me.
“I was told the HOA rented this field.”
“I figured.”
“I helped build the platform.”
“Not your problem.”
He looked relieved.
“I’ve got tools over there.”
“Take them.”
“What about the lumber?”
“Who paid for it?”
“Association.”
“Take that too.”
He nodded.
“Sorry, Jack.”
“You were working with the information you had.”
That conversation
