Late afternoon, the next day
“I’ve read your contract, Cassie. Kevin is trying to diddle you out of merchandizing and his management fees seem high.” Emma slapped the contract on the new kitchen table and pulled out a chair to join Cassie where she pondered her list.
“I’ve contacted three other possible managers. Two men and one woman. All of them manage other artists I trust and come highly recommended.” Cassie studied her notes on each of the managers, scrawled during last night’s calls.
“You’ve decided on one.”
“Yes, I think so. They were all top-class, enthusiastic and okay with the plan I’d sketched out for the next two years.”
“You’re still leaving.” Emma’s lips drooped at the corners.
“Yes.” She didn’t tell Emma the rest of her plan. She would, but not until she finalized the details and set her plan in motion. No jinxes for her, thank you very much.
“What about Hone?”
Cassie frowned. “What about Hone?”
“You intend to walk away without regret.” Now Emma sounded disapproving.
“You were the one who informed me he wasn’t husband material. It sounds as if the boys are back with the barbecue.” Relieved at the interruption because she didn’t want to discuss Hone, even with her best friend, she jumped to her feet. “I have beers in the fridge. We deserve one.”
Emma followed her outside, and Cassie could literally feel her friend’s disapproval prodding her in the back. Of course she liked Hone. If she were honest, she was halfway in love with the man. Walking away would hurt, but she had to do the adult thing. She’d made a plan she could live with. She’d tell Hone about it first—before Emma. Give him a chance to tell her where she stood in his life.
“Where do you want the barbecue, Cassie?” Jack asked.
“You and Emma are going to be living here. You decide,” Cassie said.
“You’re leaving?” Hone’s sharp gaze, tinged with that weird red, speared right through her, but she couldn’t decipher his thoughts on the subject.
“Eventually,” she said, not ready to supply answers because she wasn’t certain of her future path yet. It depended on which manager she chose. While she had a clear favorite, she had a few more questions for each of them before she made a final decision. “Anyone want a beer? I’ve got steaks marinating, made garlic bread and the salads are ready.”
“I could go for a beer,” Hone said.
“I’d like to check out the swimming hole,” Emma added.
“Oh, good idea,” Cassie said. “Why don’t we do that after a beer? We can eat once we get back.”
Half an hour later, Cassie led the way, over a rickety style and down a narrow, overgrown track, populated with blackberry bushes.
“Ouch.” She paused to untangle a prickly branch from her sandal. Beads of blood formed on her foot.
Hone put his hand on her shoulder. “Let me go first. My hide is tougher than yours.”
“Not gonna argue. The track goes around to the left for a bit. We should be able to hear the creek soon.”
“I’ll bring the slasher next time,” Jack said from behind them. “It won’t take much to clear the track.”
Hone rounded the corner, pausing to hold back blackberry branches for her. It was better with him going first. Quicker too. He paused at the top of a rise.
“There,” she said, pointing. “It’s not a bad as I suspected. I remember a bigger pool, but I was a kid the last time I swam here.”
“We could make it bigger,” Jack said.
Emma scanned their surroundings with approval. “It’s nice and private with all the trees around.”
Cassie pulled a face and held up her right hand in a stop motion. “Emma, I know exactly where your mind has gone.”
Hone barked out a laugh. “Is it a crime? Mine wandered there too. It’s the perfect spot for skinny dipping and other stuff.”
“It won’t take long to clear the visible logs and check for hidden debris,” Jack said.
“Let’s go.” Hone led the way down the hill, walking easier now that the path had widened.
Cassie stopped and frowned. “I thought that the farm was bigger. I don’t remember those pine trees there. I remember Granddad telling me his plot was a perfect rectangle.”
Pine trees of different sizes grew along the straight boundary before taking a dogleg left.
The wind picked up, bringing the fresh scent of pine.
“We can check it out on the way back,” Emma suggested. “Walk up the fence line.”
In silent agreement, the foursome waded into the pond, working together to remove branches and debris.
“It’s deeper than I imagined,” Jack said.
“Not deep enough for diving, but good for cooling down,” Hone agreed.
Despite the lateness of the day, mugginess clung, the air heavy as if it might rain.
Cassie’s stomach let out an undignified rumble. “I’m ready for food. I worked through lunch on a new song.”
“I could eat,” Emma announced. “But let’s walk up the fence line. The walking will be easier since it’s clearer.”
Hone led the way, picking through thistles, more blackberry bushes and thick grass. It was a relief to reach the fence where the walking presented fewer prickly obstructions.
“Hold,” Jack said without warning.
Cassie froze.
“What is it?” Emma asked.
“Hone, to your right at ten o’clock. Is that an alarm?”
Cassie scrunched her brow, mystified by their discovery. “But why would there be an alarm—”
“Drugs,” Hone muttered. “Now it makes sense. That’s what I can smell. I couldn’t work out what it was, but yeah. Cannabis. Someone is using your land to grow weed.”
* * * * *
Matthew watched his sleeping son, his heart aching with love for the small being he and his ex had made together. Happier times, before she showed her bitchy side, the side that liked variety in her men.
His phone vibrated, and he answered it absently as he left his son’s bedroom. Should he take Dillion now and not worry about the last of the cash crop? He’d prepared Dillion as much as possible, obtained false passports and had organized a private plane to Fiji. From there, they’d catch a commercial flight and zigzag their way to Central America. Originally, he’d planned on South America, but ultimately, he’d felt Central America was safer and language became less of a barrier. No one would comment on a father and son living in a cottage on the beach.
“Boss, the silent alarms at sector C are going off.”
“Wait. What?” His mind jerked back to the present.
“Sector C alarms are going.”
“Hell, probably the neighbor exploring her land. It had to happen.” Matthew considered the angles. “All evidence of our crop has gone. I checked the area myself before we planted the new saplings. The crop is on the neighbor’s land, so we’ll play dumb. Herbert, if you want to risk it, go down and harvest some of the buds and sell it to my contacts. Keep the sale proceeds for yourself, but be careful, because if you get caught, I will deny everything.” He paused, planning his future actions. “Nail up a few of those clown masks, but away from the silent alarm. Hopefully, they won’t find that.”
“Okay, boss. What’s the plan?”
“Deny everything, and move up my schedule. You still have the post office box?”
“Yes,” Herbert said.
“I’ll send your final pay there. It’s best if we don’t contact each other again. I’m going to destroy this phone.”
“Don’t stiff me, boss,” Herbert said as if he were uttering a pleasantry.
“Have I ever?” Matthew demanded, his tone icy.
“My point is this isn’t a good time to start.” Now his right-hand man sounded defensive.
“I have too much to lose to screw this up.” If he were in Herbert’s shoes, he’d have misgivings. “Check the box once a week. Heed my words about the crop. Act fast and don’t be greedy.” He hung up, his lips twisting. Kind of ironic he’d utter those words when it was greed that had led him to using his neighbor’s land.
His other phone rang. The number on the screen had him scowling, tense, girding his parental loins for an ex-wife custody discussion battle. “Maureen.” While he aimed for pleasant, his instant tension bled through his greeting.
“Josh and I are going to The Mount for the week. You’ll have to bring Dillion home now because I won’t be here tonight.”
Bitch. Always changing their custody agreement on a whim. He’d played along. Mr. Nice. He’d let her call the shots, going along with her orders even though they grated.
Hell, who was he kidding? He’d like to wring her bloody neck. “Would you like me to keep Dillion for the week?”
There was a silence. A pause. “What about your work? I won’t have you leaving Dillion with sitters.”
Matthew held back his snort with difficulty. According to Dillion, Maureen left him with the neighbor on a regular basis. “No, I’m working from home this week. I’ll make sure I confine my work to the evening when Dillion is in bed or if he’s napping during the afternoon. I have three or four visits arranged, but they’ll be short and I can take Dillion with me.”
“I’ll want to talk to Dillion every night,” Maureen warned.
“No problem. Will you ring at the usual time? Around five?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Don’t make me regret this, Matthew. I won’t give you a second chance.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said. “I appreciate this, Maureen.”
“You can drop him off next Sunday night at six.”
“Okay. We’ll be there.”
Maureen hung up halfway through his sentence. Matthew disconnected on his end, triumph blooming as he pumped his fist in the air. His stupid bitch of an ex had played right into his hands. Kismet or what?
His phone went again, and his stomach bucked with misgivings. Hell, had Maureen changed her mind already?
“Yes.”
“This is Cassie Miller-Pope, your next-door neighbor. My friends and I went for a walk and discovered a cannabis plot on my land. Where you aware of this?”
“Pardon?” Matthew wanted to chortle, so great was his relief that Cassie was on the end of the phone call rather than his wife. “Did you say cannabis?”
“Yes. You haven’t noticed anything strange?”
“No. I walk through our trees, checking for signs of pests, but other than a bit of a pruning once a year, we leave our trees to do their thing. Where is this plot? Do you think that is why you had vandals in your house?”
Her gasp was audible. “That would explain things,” she agreed. “I have had rather a lot of bad luck.”
“Have you rung the cops?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I wanted to check with you first.”
“Where is the plot?”
“It’s on our common boundary, but is growing on my land. Whoever owns the plants has tried to disguise them with a border of pines, the same variety as yours.”
He considered, consulted his watch. Herbert should have had time to harvest the buds by now. “Would you like me to pick you up and we can visit the local police together to lodge a complaint?”
“No. It’s all right. I’ll contact the police. Thanks for the offer.”
“You’re welcome,” Matthew said. “If there is anything I can do to help, you know where to find me. And thank you again for intercepting Dillion for me. He’s the light of my life, and I’d be devastated if anything happened to him.”
“He’s a great kid. It was my pleasure to entertain him. Sorry to interrupt your evening. The police will probably contact you, anyway.”
“Give them my number,” he said. “I’m fine with that.”
Matthew hung up and wanted to do a celebratory cheer. He didn’t, instead going to his room to pack and to pull out the disguises he’d prepared for them to leave New Zealand.
Once he told Dillion they were running away, he’d be excited and eager to get into his latest character. The kid was a natural when it came to acting and voices. They’d be long gone before Maureen decided to exercise her right to phone her son. If she played true to form, she’d be giddy with the fresh, new relationship, and her son and everything else would come second best until she became bored.
Lady Kismet smiling, indeed, and doing a saucy hip waggle.