Poisoned Ground by Sandra Parshall Read Free Book Online Page A

your husband—I didn’t get your name. You’re Mrs….?”
    “I didn’t tell you my name. I’m Rachel Goddard. Dr. Goddard. My husband is Sheriff Bridger.”
    “Well, then, Dr. Goddard, we’d like to sit down with you and Sheriff Bridger and talk about the opportunity—”
    “No.”
    “We’re prepared to offer you—”
    “I said no.” Sometimes the only remaining option was rudeness. “And I meant no. We have nothing to discuss. I have to get back to work, and I’d like you to leave now.”
    “I hope I’ll have a chance to speak to Sheriff Bridger at the meeting tomorrow.”
    “I don’t know if he can make it. He’s working a double murder case.” Two murders, Rachel thought, that might have been triggered by Packard’s presence in this community.
    Oblivious, Archer continued, “I hope we’ll see both of you there, so you’ll have a chance to learn exactly how our project can benefit Mason County.”
    Rachel wanted to slap that smile off his face.
    When she didn’t respond, Archer nodded and said, “Nice meeting you, Dr. Goddard, and I look forward to seeing you again.” All three men turned at once toward their vehicle.
    Billy Bob issued one sharp bark at their retreating backs.
    Fuming, Rachel headed back up the driveway to her Range Rover. Billy Bob, satisfied that he’d driven away the intruders, trotted beside her on his short legs.
    “Who the hell do they think they are, huh?” Rachel demanded of the dog. “Have you ever seen such arrogance? I wouldn’t blame Joanna if she wanted to shoot them all.”
    Billy Bob answered with a low ruff that rose from deep in his throat.
    Rachel had rarely heard Billy Bob bark before, and now he’d done it twice in a couple of minutes. “Wow, you really didn’t like them, did you? Well, I’ll try to make sure you never see them again.”
    Although she wanted to give Joanna moral support, she hadn’t planned to attend the Saturday afternoon meeting because it would probably involve a lot of shouting between different factions. But now nothing would keep her away. She couldn’t bear the thought that Lincoln and Marie Kelly might have been killed because of divisions created by her slimy visitors and their bosses.
    Would the Kellys’ killer be at the meeting, she wondered, looking as ordinary as everybody else while he made mental notes of which side people were on?

Chapter Eight
    “Wow,” Brandon said.
    “Yeah, wow.” Standing at the bottom of Marie and Lincoln Kelly’s basement stairs, Tom surveyed a thriving crop of marijuana plants growing in pots. They sat on tables that lined the walls and crowded the space in the middle of the basement. In one corner a thick layer of flower buds lay drying on a screen. The fruity aroma in the air made Tom think of pineapple and cherries.
    Black plastic taped over the half-windows blocked the view from outside. Tom raised a hand to partially shield his eyes while they adjusted to the glare of the fluorescent lights hanging above the tables.
    Dennis angled his camera to get a wide shot of the plants. “What would you say, maybe fifty altogether?”
    “We’ll need a truck to get them all out of here.”
    “And plenty of muscle to move them,” Brandon said. “These pots look like they weigh a ton. Man, this is wild. Who would’ve thought?”
    Tom stepped over to the nearest table and brushed a hand along the bright green, fern-like leaves. “I hope Jake Hollinger was right about them growing this stuff for medical use.”
    “It hasn’t got that skunk smell I’m used to when we confiscate pot,” Dennis said. “I’ve read about these really mild varieties for cancer patients on chemo who have trouble with nausea.”
    “Let’s hope that’s what we’ve got here. If they were selling it to a dealer, that puts a whole new slant on the murders.”
    “Hollinger said there’s more out in one of the fields,” Brandon reminded him.
    “I doubt anything’s growing outdoors this late in the season.