Willard’s Farm was well maintained. Annabel recalled the farm ten years ago when it had been a nonproductive, run-down eyesore. The former owner had lived on the farm his whole life, and after he passed, he had no family to leave it to and the land was sold.
Jesse obviously took pride in his farm and his home. The farmhouse looked as if it had a new roof and a fresh coat of paint on the exterior, the shutters shining in the afternoon sun. The porch had a few chairs, and the gardens around the house were tidy and blooming with pink and purple flowers.
Behind the house, extending as far as she could see, the rows of crops were lush and green. The barn was painted red, and farmhands were moving around the property with purpose.
Could Jesse Willard be hiding his sister? Family was important. The Coltons had been separated when they were children. Annabel hadn’t stopped longing for and looking for her brothers. They had been sent to different foster homes across Blackthorn County, and it had been difficult to keep in touch.
Annabel had reconnected with Chris in high school. Despite the initial distance and awkwardness between them, she and Chris had gotten along well. He had even assisted her with a bully in high school who had been pestering her and whose harassment had turned physical.
She and Chris had located the rest of their family after high school. Only Josie was still missing.
Josie had wanted nothing to do with them. Annabel had thought she would outgrow it. The family had been through a lot, and as children and then teenagers, they’d each had their personal struggles in coping with their father’s crimes and the death of their mother and dissolution of their family. Their experiences in foster care had run the gamut, and life had been hard for each of them in different ways. Only Josie hadn’t come around.
If Josie came knocking on her door needing help, Annabel would assist her without questions. Is that how Jesse felt about his sister?
Annabel’s attention caught on a woman walking across the property. She had her hair pulled up into her hat, but she was the right build for Regina. Annabel used her binoculars to get a better look at the woman’s face. The woman stopped in front of the house, and Jesse Willard came down the steps. They didn’t touch, but a warm familiarity existed between them. Was she his girlfriend? If she was, why did that make Annabel both jealous and disappointed? She and Jesse weren’t dating. Annabel brushed aside the ridiculous notion and ignored the flip-flop of her belly thinking about Jesse taking her out.
Then the woman removed her hat, and locks of brown, curly hair fell down to her shoulders. When she angled her face, Annabel could see this was not Regina Willard. The woman was too young. Regina could be in disguise, but no disguise was that good.
Annabel’s heart caught in her throat when Jesse looked in her direction. He did a double take, and his shoulders fell. Would he talk to her? Ignore her? Should she approach him? Though she had been clear on her assignment, seeing him made that clarity disappear. All she wanted was to talk to Jesse Willard.
* * *
“I have a call into the vet about Misty,” Grace said. “Her hair has lost its luster, and she’s been acting strange.”
Jesse had noticed his mare’s change in behavior, too. She was lethargic and tired too often. He’d tried changing her diet, but it hadn’t helped. “Thanks. Let me know what the doc has to say.” When he knew what was wrong and could fix it, he would stop worrying.
Jesse had given Grace alternative assignments, but she still looked tired. She hadn’t complained, but he had another idea. “I’m planning to hire someone to help me around the house. It’s getting to be too much. I’ve been working on the remodel of the carriage house, and it’s taking a lot of my time. You want to try switching up your duties?” Working in the house would keep her out of the hot sun and away from backbreaking work. If she put up her feet on the couch from time to time, he was good with that.
Grace inclined her head. “Do you feel obligated to offer because I’m pregnant?” She set her hand over her stomach protectively.
Not obligated. But he was a good boss, and he valued her as an employee. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and you’ve risen to every challenge.”
“Are you saying working in the house would be a challenge?” Grace asked.
“Being closer to me and putting up with my grumpiness? I would say that, yes, that would be a challenge for anyone,” Jesse said.
Grace threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Jesse. I would be happy to help you with running your house. Thanks.”
Jesse hugged her but not too tight. “I’ll have a list of tasks for you tomorrow. Why don’t you head off and pick up Noah from school?”
Grace had arrived at work late and had stayed longer to make up the time. Not at his insistence, but that was who Grace was. Jesse didn’t want to lose her.
“I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.”
As Grace walked toward her car, Jesse looked back at the car parked near the end of his driveway on the public access road. He couldn’t see the driver with the glare of the sun against the window. He didn’t get many visitors to the farm. The last uninvited visitors had been the FBI, who had questioned him at length about his sister.
Were they back? Or was it a media outlet poking around about Regina? He’d hoped it was a lost tourist who would check their GPS and move on, but clearly that wasn’t the case. It had been a solid five minutes, and the car remained rooted in place.
Jesse didn’t want to be harassed. He didn’t want his employees hassled. Any altercation made the situation worse. He was the owner of the farm, and while diplomacy wasn’t on his mind, he forced himself to appear calm. When he was younger, he’d been a hothead, and that behavior only led to trouble. Deciding to play nice, he went inside the house, brewed a cup of coffee and carried it down the driveway.
The mug had his farm’s name on it, Willard’s Farm, and whoever was in the car could drink the coffee and keep the mug as long as they left him alone.
He glanced both ways before crossing the street. When he was closer, he had his first view of the driver. He almost spilled the coffee down his jeans. The police officer from the precinct he’d seen again at the All Night Diner was seated in the car, watching him. He had been thinking about those blue eyes for days.
What were the chances this was a social visit? He guessed next to nil.
He motioned for her to roll down her window. Keeping his relationship with the police and FBI friendly had been his intent, and now that he saw who was watching him, he was glad it wasn’t a reporter. This was an opportunity to talk to the pretty policewoman. Perhaps he could charm her into seeing his side of the situation.
“Good afternoon. I thought I would properly introduce myself. I’m Jesse Willard.”
“I know who you are, Mr. Willard. This is your farm. I’m Annabel Colton.”
Her last name was familiar, too. Same name as the detective in the GGPD and the FBI agent who had grilled him for hours about Regina and who were related to Matthew Colton, a serial killer serving a life sentence in prison. It seemed in Granite Gulch, investigations were a family affair.
He extended to her the cup of coffee. “Thought you might like this. Push through the afternoon lull.”
She reached out and accepted the mug. “Smells good.”
So did she. Even with the aroma of coffee in his nostrils, a light floral fragrance wafted from the car, her scent.
“I can’t drink much, though. No facilities,” she said, nodding at the car.
He leaned on the roof of the car, trying to look cool and figuring he missed it by a mile. She was under his skin, and he wanted to open the car