Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

"Who's first?" I asked Charlotte, who had both lists of potential employers.

"I figured it would be best to try the two places that were recommended to Lacey first," Charlotte said, peering at her notebook.

"I agree. Which one?" We were in my SUV, the vehicle idling in the parking space until I knew which direction to go.

"Chick-A-Daze and Happy Hollow," Charlotte said, opening the map app on her phone. "Looks like both are south of town, inland a little bit."

"Okay." I pulled out of the parking spot and headed for 101 South. "Can you find any info on those places?"

"Sure. Chick-A-Daze has a Facebook page. Along with having a Christmas tree farm, it says they raise designer chickens and have a seasonal pumpkin patch."

"Christmas trees, pumpkins, and chickens. Interesting," I said with a chuckle.

" Designer chickens, whatever that means," Charlotte said.

"I'm now envisioning chickens wearing Alexander McQueen or Coco Chanel. Maybe some Jimmy Choos to go along with their fine threads?"

Charlotte blinked at me and then started laughing so hard she had trouble breathing. "That's not an image I'm going to get out of my head anytime soon."

"Me neither to be honest."

We were still amused when we turned into the long, gravel driveway of Chick-A-Daze Farm. There was a large overgrown field to the north and at the fork in the drive, there was signage indicating the pumpkin field was to the south and the tree farm to the east.

Charlotte let out a noise of disapproval. "Look at all those weeds in the gravel. And that field looks like it hasn't been tended in a month."

"No wonder they were looking for help," I said. When we pulled up to the main house, the place didn't look like it was rundown, just that the occupants were having trouble keeping up with the fall maintenance.

As we were climbing out of the SUV, the front door swung open and a woman wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a red apron stepped out onto the porch as she wiped her hands on a white linen cloth. "You missed the sign to the pumpkin patch. Turn around and go left at the fork in the road."

"Sorry to bother you ma'am. We're not here for the pumpkins. We were hoping to ask you a few questions," I said.

The gray-haired woman, crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "About?"

I gave her a pleasant smile. "I'm Marion, and this is my sister, Charlotte."

The woman stared at me with impatience, and I realized she must have thought we were door-to-door solicitors and she resented being interrupted.

"Sorry to interrupt your day," I said. "We saw online that your operation might be hiring and?—"

"If you want a job interview, you'll need to make an appointment with my daughter. I don't handle that." She started to move to go back into the house.

"Wait!" I called. "We're not looking for a job. We're looking for information about a young woman who may have come for a job interview a couple of days ago. Lacey Riley?"

"What's it to you?" The gray-haired woman glared at me like I'd just insulted her favorite dog.

"She's gone missing, and we're trying to retrace her steps to see if we can get an idea of what happened to her," I rushed out.

"Oh. Missing. I see." The older woman softened for just a moment before stiffening again. "Ask those wolves. I bet they know what happened to her."

"Wolves?" I asked, my heart racing. Had the PPPD brainwashed everyone in this town already? How did she even know about the Diablo wolf pack? Their establishment was nearly twenty miles away in the opposite direction of her farm.

"Yes, wolves. Ever since they came to town, our chickens have been going missing. I just know it's them. Coming here in the middle of the night to feast on our precious babies. They should be run out of town on a rail."

As if on cue, the faint sounds of chickens squawking could be heard from behind the house.

"Do you have any video proof?" I asked her, though I didn't believe for a minute that the wolves were coming all the way down to her farm for live chickens.

"No," she spat. "The night they raided the coop, the power was cut to our place, and we don't have even one video clip." She opened her front door, reached in, and pulled out a rifle. Clutching it to her side, she said, "But next time, I'll be ready for them. Mark my words, that's the last time they'll get any of my hens."

"Mother! Put that rifle away," another woman called as she walked up from behind the house. "What are you doing? You know that's for predators only."

"These days you never know who will come to the door." Her mother huffed and stormed back into the house.

"I'm sorry," the younger woman said as she made her way to us. "My mother's getting more and more ornery every day. I hope she didn't scare you with that rifle."

"Not scare so much as put us a little on guard," Charlotte answered. "You just never know who's trigger happy and who isn't."

"Let me reassure you," the woman wearing gray cargo pants and a T-shirt said. "My mother hasn't used a firearm since the day my father took her to get licensed. He took her to the shooting range afterward as a sort of celebration. But that plan backfired," she added with a chuckle. "The weapon they were using had quite a kick to it. After one shot, mom landed on her backside, bruising her tailbone. She decided then and there that she didn't ever need to do that again. And that was that."

"Yet she keeps a rifle by the door?" I asked curiously. I understood wanting protection from the wildlife. They lived far enough into the country that they'd likely seen a bear or two before.

"I put it there after our chickens were raided," she said. "It's not that I'm going to go after the coyotes, or foxes, or maybe it's raccoons, but a warning shot would likely do the trick."

"That's understandable." I held out my hand and introduced Charlotte and myself.

"Marci Daze. It's nice to meet you, Marion." She nodded to my sister. "Charlotte."

I quickly filled her in on why we'd come to their farm. As I was explaining, a flock of unusual-looking chickens started appearing from around the house. They all had fancy plumes of feathers on their heads. There were a couple that reminded me of a phoenix with their orange-red coloring. But the most beautiful ones had black-and-white-speckled feathers that sort of mimicked a herringbone pattern.

"You want to know if this young woman Lacey was here?" she asked.

"Yes. Did she contact you about a job?"

"I did get a phone call," Marci said with a frown. "But honestly, I never called them back." She glanced around at the property, and sadness crept into her dark eyes. "It's obvious we need more help around here, but with Mom's medical bills, we just can't afford to hire anyone. We're barely keeping it together with the two guys helping with the pumpkin patch as it is."

"Did the woman who called leave a message?" I asked.

"She did, but I deleted it." She scrunched up her face. "Sorry. I wish I could be more help. I'm just so busy these days. I'm afraid I didn't even listen long enough to hear the woman's name. I heard she was looking for work and just deleted it."

"It's all right," I said, feeling deflated. It seemed as if Lacey had probably called, but I couldn't prove that without the recording. Not that it would make much of a difference other than to give us a time stamp as to when the call came in.

"Marci," Charlotte said, stepping up beside me.

"Yes?"

"Your mother was going on about wolves raiding the chickens. Do you think there's any validity to that?" Charlotte asked, making it sound like she was just vaguely curious.

"Wolves?" Marci looked taken aback. "We don't have wolves roaming around here, do we?" Before I could answer, realization dawned on the pretty woman's face. "Oh… She means the wolf shifters her new friend was telling her about." Marci tsked . "No. Mom met some woman at card night who put some crazy ideas in her head. I'd bet anything the animal that got our hens was a fox. I've seen one around here before. He's just been biding his time."

"Her new friend?" I asked. "Do you know her name?"

"Felicity, maybe?" Marci pursed her lips. "Francie?"

"Fiona?" I supplied.

"That's it! Fiona. She's also a farmer. Mom bonded with her over their love of the land. Do you know her?"

"We've met," I said dryly. It seemed impossible that so many people seemed to actually like the woman I'd met a few days ago, but I supposed anyone could have a bad day, right? Except most people were just frustrated when they were having a bad day. They didn't talk about wolf shifters as if they weren't even human. I had trouble believing that Fiona was as great as everyone said.

"Uh-oh," Marci said with a grimace. "Is she bad news? Should I keep Mom away from her?"

"That's a tough one," I said slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. "My interaction with her was less than pleasant, but she did seem a little stressed. She had a busted water line on her property, so I suppose that could make anyone short-tempered. But she was rather unpleasant to the two shifters who were there to help fix it. The entire thing left a bad taste in my mouth. But this morning my aunt told me she met Fiona at the card tournament and that both she and my dad had really enjoyed getting to know her."

"So you're saying that this Fiona is likely biased against wolf shifters?" Marci asked.

"It sure seemed like it after the way she treated Jax and Kai. And now she's putting stories in your mom's head about shifters raiding your chickens. It seems a little weird to me."

"Me, too," Marci said, her eyes full of steel. "I didn't love that this woman filled her head with the shifter stuff. Just because a man is a shifter that doesn't mean he's out raiding chickens for goodness' sake." Her tone was full of conviction, almost as if the attack felt personal. "But now, hearing about this, I'm sure Mom doesn't need to be hanging out with that lady. I don't care if she had rainbows flying out her ass. People always show their true colors."

"They really do, don't they?" Charlotte said, giving Marci a knowing smile.

Marci chuckled to herself. "I sound a little intense, don't I? It's just that I've seen firsthand what it does to a person when they are treated less than human, and I won't stand for it."

"Good for you," I said, admiring her strength of conviction.

"Listen, ladies, I have to get back to work. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful but thank you for the heads up on this Fiona woman. I'll talk to my mom and get her straightened out. Wolves. Of all the things." She shook her head and then turned to shoo the chickens ahead of her toward the back of the house.

Charlotte and I headed back to the SUV. Once we were strapped in and headed down the driveway, Charlotte said, "That was interesting."

"It was?" I glanced over at her before turning my attention back to the road.

"Sure. Fiona seems to be forming a white-hair posse."

"White-hair posse?" I parroted and then let out a bark of laughter. "Where'd that come from?"

"First Aunt Lucy and Dad, and now Marci's mother? All three of them seem to be enthralled by this Fiona lady. What's the one thing the three of them have in common?" she asked me.

"It's not white hair," I said with a laugh. "Aunt Lucy wouldn't be caught dead without her hair perfectly dyed."

Charlotte laughed. "True. But they are all of a certain age, actually seem to enjoy card tournaments"—she shuddered—"and they were hanging out at Hallucinations. Hallucinations , Marion. It's the perfect place to spike drinks."

"What are you saying, Charlotte? That Aunt Lucy, Dad, and Marci's mom have been cursed to like cranky old ladies who have some sort of grudge against wolf shifters?"

"Stranger things have happened," she said.

And I had to admit that she was right. Stranger things had happened and were likely to happen again. "Fine. Make a note that we should check on Lucy and Dad to make sure they aren't cursed or spelled to like Fiona."

"I already did." Charlotte turned her phone around and showed me her Notes app. "It's right after get a cooter wax."

"Cooter wax?" I asked with a snort.

"I booked you one, too. Tomorrow at eleven, since you can't seem to make the appointment on your own."

"You booked me a waxing appointment without even asking me?" I glanced over at her and scowled at her amused grin.

"I booked you for a cut and color, followed by a facial, and then an appointment for an allover body wax. When you get home, Jax is going to wonder who the goddess is that took over your body."

"You did what?" I gasped out, both a little horrified and grateful. It was true that I did need to get my hair done. And a facial sounded lovely. But a wax? "An allover body wax, Charlotte?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't sure which bits you needed done, so I figured it was best to book for everything. You did say that since you turned fifty, hair is popping up in strange places. I was just trying to make sure you had all your bases covered."

My instinct was to groan. Instead, I just glanced over at her and said, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."