Page 19 of A Veteran's Desire

A breeze ripples the back of my neck, and as we speak I turn a slow circle, checking for movement on the property.

“What is it?”

“I had a beer with Owen last night. You know he’s been investigating the car accident that killed Vaughan.”

Vaughan passed away in a car accident a year or so back. His property borders the Baxter farm, and he had the same pressure to sell. Owen suspects the accident might have been foul play. He wasn’t around at the time of the accident, so he’s been trying to hunt down the car for inspection.

“Did Owen get news on the car?”

“He found the junkyard it was taken to. Took him a while to trace because it was taken out of town. He tracked it to a wrecker on the outskirts of Raleigh.”

That’s over two hundred miles from Hope. “That’s a hell of a way to tow a wrecked car.”

“He took a trip up there. And the car was crushed. Completely wrecked the first day it was brought in.”

The implications of what Jace is saying sink in.

“He can’t do an inspection?”

“Nope. The car’s as flat as a pancake.”

It’s a dead end. But suspicious as hell.

“The car was taken to a yard miles out of town and flattened before anyone could check it. It was tampered with. I’d bet on it.”

I glance toward the farmhouse. From across the fields, it looks silent and peaceful. But if someone was prepared to kill an old man to get the land, what else are they capable of? Suddenly my security system doesn’t feel like enough.

“I got to go. I need to get back to the house.”

Owen’s organizing a residents’ meeting to discuss the situation. He’s hoping there will be more information by then. I’m sure Hannah will want to go. I need to stop brooding and be where she needs me to be. Because whatever is on this land, someone thinks it’s valuable enough to kill for.

10

HANNAH

The town hall buzzes with conversation as I take my seat on one of the plastic chairs next to Rachel. Abby stayed at home with the kids, but Pops is here. He wants to know more than anyone what’s going on with the land he’s worked all his life.

Grant stands to the side, next to Jace and Sam and some other men I don’t recognize. It’s a wall of broad shoulders, thick muscles, and don’t-fuck-with-me expressions. They may not have their uniforms and weapons, but there’s no denying these are all veterans.

“Tell me you were in the military without telling me you were in the military.” Rachel scans the men with an appraising eye.

Grant speaks quietly with Jace, but his gaze scans the room, and I have no doubt he knows exactly where the exits are, how many people are here, and if anyone’s carrying.

I try not to stare at him and the way he quietly commands the room. His presence is reassuring but also makes me flustered.

Whoever’s threatening the people of Hope would be fools to come here tonight.

“Thank you all for coming.” Peter Huntington steps forward. He’s on the city council, and his family has been in Hope as long as mine.

Daphne, the reporter, sits in the front row, her phone held out to record his words.

“We’re here tonight because some of you have had offers on your land, and some of those offers have been a little, ah, pushy.”

“Aggressive more like,” mutters Rachel.

I catch her eye. By the sounds of it, Pops gave back as good as he got. I was at the bakery the day the lawyers came to the farm, but I’ve heard about how Pops showed his unwillingness to sell by chasing them off the property with his shotgun.

“I’ve asked Mark, a local property lawyer, to make inquiries, and he’s uncovered something you’re going to want to hear. I’ll hand it over to Mark.”