Page 70 of Fatal Mistake
She chuckled. “Farmers actually still use the term. And FYI, the reason for the saying is that after hay is cut, it has to lay in the field to dry in the sun, preventing the bales from molding inside.” Memories of riding on the trailer behind the baler and stacking bales came to mind and she smiled. “Back in the day I could toss these forty-pound bales around like crazy.”
He shook his head. “I believe you, but I can’t see you as a farm girl.”
“I’ve really taken a long step away from my roots. From Oren,” she added, since he was the purpose for their visit. “Now I need to go back to my childhood again.”
Stepping deeper into the space, memories assaulted her, and she stopped moving. The sunshine warmed her back, and she took in a deep breath of country air. Fun times raced through her mind like a slide show. Oren as a child. Chasing her through the yard and racing into the haymow. Climbing the bales to the top, dragging them into a fort, and defending it from Tara’s cousins.
“What are you thinking about?” Cal asked from right behind her.
She jumped, her eyes flashing open and her heart kicking into high gear.
“Sorry if I startled you,” he said.
“The smell brings back so many memories, it feels like I’m literally walking through them.”
“And did you see anything just now that you think might be helpful?”
She shook her head. “I was thinking about my cousins and the forts we built in the hay. Oren and me on one side of the haymow, my cousins the other. We’d defend our forts from the invading enemy.”
“Sounds fun,” he said.
She nodded, and another memory flashed in her mind. “Until someone got hurt. One time Oren climbed as high up on the bales as he could with his pretend sword in hand. He jabbed the air and lost his balance. He hit the floor hard and broke his arm in two places that day.” She shook her head. “He was on restricted activity, strictly enforced by his mother. She checked on him every few minutes, so most of the time we colored and drew pictures of what we would do once she let him play hard again.”
She could easily remember Oren with paper and crayons in his hand, sitting at their oak dining room table. “He was so mad at his mom that he drew some pretty unflattering pictures of her and hid them in his stash.”
“Where exactly is this secret spot?” Cal asked.
“Over in the corner.” She stepped in that direction, wishing she’d come back for a fun visit for old times’ sake. To visit an old friend. A boy she’d once cared about. Who she’d never, ever, believe capable of extreme violence against women.
Instead, they’d come here today to prove Oren had defiled yet one more of her childhood memories, and hopefully he’d left a clue that would lead them to arrest him and lock him up for life.
* * *
Cal had to admit he believed they might actually find something Keeler had stuffed into the wall as Tara led him to the far corner of the haymow. Maybe wishful thinking, but his SEAL sense said they were right on track.
“We’ll have to move this stack of hay.” Tara slipped her hands under the tight twine on the top bale.
“I can do that for you,” he offered.
“Sure you can, but can you do it this efficiently?” She hefted the bale, her biceps tightening, her body twisting as she set the bale behind her, then reversed and grabbed another one.
Cal was uncomfortable not helping her, but he loved watching her fluid motions. She was a study in contrasts. Two separate people, graceful yet powerful, but one when it concerned his emotions.
When she moved on to the taller stack where she had to strain to grab the top bales, he stepped in and reached over her to lift the bale. His body pressed against hers, the fresher scent of the hay and her shampoo replaced the hideous barn odor. He was so aware of her as a woman that it took every effort to grab the bale and not turn her into his arms and kiss her.
He lifted the hay, even more surprised at how unwieldy it felt and how easily she had swung them out of the way. He had no idea tossing a hay bale required skill, but he was learning so much in his time with her. Most notably, that he liked being with her, no matter what they were doing. Even if they were tossing bale after bale aside to clear the corner in short order.
Tara planted her hands on her hips, her breathing labored. “I can’t believe I used to do this all day long. I sure slept good, though.”
“Sounds like my days at BUD/S.”
“BUD/S?”
“Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL. Six months of pure craziness. It was filled with physical and mental challenges meant to push prospective SEALs to the end of their limit and beyond. Things like bursts of three thousand sit-ups and a twenty-station obstacle course that I’m sure the very devil designed himself.”
She stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “Three thousand sit-ups? You’re kidding, right?”
He would never forget the days of physical torture. “Trust me, it’s real.”
