Page 20 of Rescued By the Operative
My mouth is dry, though I have to get her on record for what I have to ask next. “But if The Prophet’s in jail, who’s pulling the trigger, Mary?”
She blinks at me. “His wives did, of course. The ones who always do the dirty work.”
“Why?” I ask with a hoarse voice.
“Because the wives are expendable,” she says flatly, then moves to the sink to finish washing the dishes.
She says nothing when I join her to rinse, dry, and put away.
I stay silent for the rest of the evening, wrapping my head around what she’s just told me.
Orlyn Moffatt is a serial killer.
Chapter Eight
One monthlater
Jake
The owner of the feed store is asking a lot of questions about Ennis’s latest order.
Vern scratches his head and looks concerned. “Jake, this is the fifth order of ammonium nitrate this year.”
I nod casually as I carefully load the paper bags into the bed of my truck, then check my phone. Damn. No texts from Blondie, yet.
You’d think I’d give up hope after a month of radio silence, but you’d be wrong.
“Yep.”
“It’s just that…well, you’re just under the legal limit, you see.”
I shove my phone in my pocket, my mind elsewhere. “Legal limit for what?”
“Come on, Jake. You know if you had one more bag for this order, I’d have to fill out all kinds of paperwork and report it to the federal government.”
Ennis placed these orders because Wylie has been extra busy lately and asked us only recently to take on more responsibility with running the ranch. He places orders and I pick them up. I don’t know how many orders like this have gone through this year.
We finish loading the last bag, then I lean against the side of the truck to take a breather and chug some water. After wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I comment, “I can’t see why the feds would be interested in a particularly stubborn field of alfalfa.”
Vern seems pained about questioning me on my orders. “It’s just that…well…we all know who your neighbors are and…”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Maybe that’s her.
“And tensions are high right now. You know what I’m getting at. With all you’ve ordered over the last year, that’s enough to…”
I know I’m being rude, but I recheck my phone. It’s Ennis, probably wondering where I am.
“I don’t mean to be nosy.”
I laugh. “Well, hell, Vern. You’ve known me since I was a kid. But if you wanna come over to the ranch and watch me add it to the soil so you know exactly what I’m working on, you’re welcome to.”
This seems to assuage whatever anxieties are brewing in his head.
Vern gives a congenial smile and looks a little relieved. “I know. You all are good people. And I’ve been there, done that, where cattle are concerned. In fact, my granddad’s hay field had to be completely replanted one year…”
And he’s off on story time.
Idly, I recheck my phone. Still no call, no text from her.