to his chair with the plate of cookies in hand.
“Did you sense nervousness under that professional demeanor? Not lying, but maybe covering something…”
“She lied,” Rocky said. He stretched out his legs until his boots hit the bottom of the desk. “You asked for a male agent—”
“I meant to.” Zeke rubbed at his jaw. “Not certain I did.”
“No problem. She’s gone.”
“Why didn’t you like her?” Zeke asked, swallowing the last of the cookie. “You sided with her at first.”
“Wanted to keep you calm.”
“Yeah, thanks for that. She knew her business. I probably should have heard her whole presentation.”
Rocky shrugged. “Strange theories, though.”
“Theories?” Zeke’s head shot up. “Oh yeah…about the murders. Hmmm, wonder if she had an ulterior motive? Wanted to investigate, sniff around, and sell a story to the papers—”
“Could be.” Rocky leaned forward with sudden enthusiasm. “She jumped on the idea that you needed representation and hot-footed it down from L.A. the minute they found that second woman’s body. Like she’d been waiting for an opportunity—”
“Interesting,” Zeke said.
Those were the most words Rocky had spoken in days. Zeke observed him for a moment. He’d left the daily affairs of the farm to him, and at first they’d seemed to get along. Three months ago, when the woman’s body was found, things had changed, but that could also be because money had become an issue and he’d had to have a firmer hand in the running of the business. He could only imagine the problems they’d have now that a second body had been discovered. Yet, today, he’d relied on his foreman. One raise of his eyebrows and a shake of his head, and Zeke had agreed not to hire Dena.
“Look, I’ve been wondering.” Zeke frowned again. He still valued his old friend’s opinion. The personal topics were always difficult for him though; he never knew when he’d crossed that line between employee and friend. Zeke cleared his throat. “Ah…I know these are strange times, with the murders, and the problems with the business.” He rubbed at his jaw, and stalled.
Rocky gave a brief nod.
“Is anything wrong? Personally, I mean.”
“Like what?” Rocky scowled and slapped at his hat.
“Forget it. I just thought you seemed…ah, preoccupied, or—”
“You’re unhappy with my work performance?”
“No. No, nothing like that.” He cussed under his breath. He was bad at this. He didn’t want Rocky to storm off in a huff. “It’s just that we used to talk, but lately things seem strained.”
Rocky rubbed a finger over his upper lip. “Everything’s fine.” He stood. “Those grapefruit trees aren’t gonna fertilize themselves.” He shoved on his hat and strode out the door.
Zeke grimaced. That sure went well. He grabbed another cookie, thought about the guy he’d gone to school with and how he’d turned into a stranger. Rocky had been good to his mother though, a much better son than he’d ever been. Rocky’s loyalty to the Cabrera family—who had all but adopted him—and to Three C’s Estates went without question.
He stared at the stack of large blue binders. Why on earth had Mom kept her own records? The damn things were a mess. He shoved the hair off his forehead, took another sip of coffee and pulled a ledger forward. Rocky had never married. Strange, that. Not that he had anything against a man choosing not to commit. Hell, he hadn’t married either.
He tapped the pen on the blotter for a few moments. He had his own reasons for avoiding marital bliss. A long list of reasons, but he didn’t have time to contemplate a single one. And like the grapefruit that couldn’t self-fertilize, the books weren’t about to self-balance.
****
Dena took off in a rush of embarrassment. For someone quiet and controlled, she’d almost cried in there.
At the top of a rise in the road, she stopped the car and fished around in her purse for a tissue. She’d taken an alternate route to Three C’s—not wanting to pass the hotel gates and arrive for the appointment an emotional wreck—but now her heart pumped like crazy. She gripped the steering wheel and tried not to look. Like a passerby at a freeway accident, her head swiveled back again and she stared down at the hotel site. Beyond the yellow and black caution tape and the cop cars, the huge, yellow, earth-moving machines stood idle in the sun.
“I’ll find a way to investigate this, Carli,” she said, and swiped at the tears that trickled down her cheeks. “I swear.”
Dena pulled several photos from the inner compartment of her