Hone barked out a laugh. “Is it a crime? Mine wandered there too. It’s the perfect spot for skinny dipping and other stuff.”
“It won’t take long to clear the visible logs and check for hidden debris,” Jack said.
“Let’s go.” Hone led the way down the hill, walking easier now that the path had widened.
Cassie stopped and frowned. “I thought that the farm was bigger. I don’t remember those pine trees there. I remember Granddad telling me his plot was a perfect rectangle.”
Pine trees of different sizes grew along the straight boundary before taking a dogleg left.
The wind picked up, bringing the fresh scent of pine.
“We can check it out on the way back,” Emma suggested. “Walk up the fence line.”
In silent agreement, the foursome waded into the pond, working together to remove branches and debris.
“It’s deeper than I imagined,” Jack said.
“Not deep enough for diving, but good for cooling down,” Hone agreed.
Despite the lateness of the day, mugginess clung, the air heavy as if it might rain.
Cassie’s stomach let out an undignified rumble. “I’m ready for food. I worked through lunch on a new song.”
“I could eat,” Emma announced. “But let’s walk up the fence line. The walking will be easier since it’s clearer.”
Hone led the way, picking through thistles, more blackberry bushes and thick grass. It was a relief to reach the fence where the walking presented fewer prickly obstructions.
“Hold,” Jack said without warning.
Cassie froze.
“What is it?” Emma asked.
“Hone, to your right at ten o’clock. Is that an alarm?”
Cassie scrunched her brow, mystified by their discovery. “But why would there be an alarm—”
“Drugs,” Hone muttered. “Now it makes sense. That’s what I can smell. I couldn’t work out what it was, but yeah. Cannabis. Someone is using your land to grow weed.”
* * * * *
Matthew watched his sleeping son, his heart aching with love for the small being he and his ex had made together. Happier times, before she showed her bitchy side, the side that liked variety in her men.
His phone vibrated, and he answered it absently as he left his son’s bedroom. Should he take Dillion now and not worry about the last of the cash crop? He’d prepared Dillion as much as possible, obtained false passports and had organized a private plane to Fiji. From there, they’d catch a commercial flight and zigzag their way to Central America. Originally, he’d planned on South America, but ultimately, he’d felt Central America was safer and language became less of a barrier. No one would comment on a father and son living in a cottage on the beach.
“Boss, the silent alarms at sector C are going off.”
“Wait. What?” His mind jerked back to the present.
“Sector C alarms are going.”
“Hell, probably the neighbor exploring her land. It had to happen.” Matthew considered the angles. “All evidence of our crop has gone. I checked the area myself before we planted the new saplings. The crop is on the neighbor’s land, so we’ll play dumb. Herbert, if you want to risk it, go down and harvest some of the buds and sell it to my contacts. Keep the sale proceeds for yourself, but be careful, because if you get caught, I will deny everything.” He paused, planning his future actions. “Nail up a few of those clown masks, but away from the silent alarm. Hopefully, they won’t find that.”
“Okay, boss. What’s the plan?”
“Deny everything, and move up my schedule. You still have the post office box?”
“Yes,” Herbert said.
