Page 8 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Then you’ll need to make an appointment to see him next week.”
Matthias moved to Emma’s side, his gaze on the surface of the desk, which held a cheap plastic trophy emblazoned with the wordsWorld’s Greatest Aunt, as well as stacks of paper and an assortment of sticky notes.
“Could you tell me if you’ve spoken with Eric Baker recently?” Emma asked.
The receptionist’s expression grew more annoyed by the moment. “I would have to check my calendar, but it’s Saturday. I’m not officially here.”
“But you are unofficially here,” Emma said.
Matthias stifled a grin. Atta girl. Don’t back down. He scanned the sticky notes, most of which were of no interest to him. One, however, was scribbled in a different hand.
If you need me, I’ll be working at the POWELL farm site all day Saturday. SJ.
The woman let her head drop back in frustration. “This is what I get for trying to slip in and out on a weekend without being noticed.” She faced Emma, glaring. “We’re closed. Call on Monday and make an appointment.”
Matthias touched Emma’s arm. “She’s right. No one wants to work on a weekend and not get paid for it. Let’s go.”
“But—” Emma looked at him, clearly stunned that he wasn’t supporting her on this mission.
He hoped she knew him well enough to understand. From her expression, she didn’t.
However, she did trust him. “All right.” To the receptionist, she said, “Sorry to have bothered you.”
Once they stepped outside, Emma turned to him with a scowl. “What’s going on? It wouldn’t have killed her to answer a couple of questions.”
“Do you know where the Powells’ farm is?”
“Yeah. It used to be a big dairy operation about fifteen, maybe twenty, miles from here. Why?”
“Because according to a note on Ms. Uncooperative’s desk, ‘SJ’ will be working there all day today.”
“SJ,” Emma echoed. “Sonny Jones.” She grinned. “I will never question your actions again.”
Matthias chuckled. “Right.”
* * *
Emma remembered the rolling green pastures, red milking barn, and the Powell family’s white farmhouse complete with gingerbread trim. She’d been in 4-H with a girl who’d married one of the devastatingly handsome Powell sons and had moved her horse into a smaller pasture next to the house.
That was a decade ago. As Matthias rounded a bend in the road and the property came into view, Emma’s heart collapsed in her chest. The green fields, red barn, and white house she remembered were gone, leaving only brown mountains of dirt. The farm tractor and manure spreader once parked in front of the barn had been replaced by bulldozers and backhoes belching smoke as they moved earth once populated by Jersey cattle. A trio of identical houses wrapped in Tyvek stood side-by-side on a ribbon of pavement snaking through what had once been grazing land.
She must’ve moaned, because Matthias gave her a concerned look. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“No. This place used to be… beautiful.”
“Progress,” he responded sarcastically.
“Progress my ass.” Several monster-sized pickups lined the paved road.North Star Developingwas emblazoned on the doors of a black Ford Super Duty. She pointed. “Looks like we’re in the right place.”
Matthias parked behind the trucks, and they climbed out. Instead of birdsong, the air was filled with the rumble of earth-moving equipment, the whine of power saws, and the thwack of hammers. Emma spotted a group of men in hard hats gathered around a pair of sawhorses topped with a sheet of plywood. Two of the men were involved in a heated discussion. She started toward them and noticed blueprints spread on the makeshift table.
An angry voice rose above the other noise. “This isn’t what we agreed on. The changes you’ve made are far beyond the scope of our budget.”
“Oh, stop being such a drama queen, Patrick, and do what I tell you to do.”
One of the men not involved in the argument noticed their approach and held up a hand. “Hey,” he shouted. “You can’t be here. This is a construction zone.”
“No shit,” Matthias muttered.
