The old farm stood adjacent to the new property purchased by the Chase Group for its training center. Resa and her husband, Dixon, peered from their living room windows with binoculars. “We need to find a way to stop those high school kids from cutting through our property to drink on theirs. I can’t believe a security company let them get away with trespassing,” Resa said.
“That’s the least of our issues. Someone is heading our way,” Dixon said.
Resa turned serious. “I heard from the Major, dear Amber died in childbirth. The General should have warned us they were going to dispose of her by the cabins.” Resa nuzzled the tiny fifteen-month-old asleep in her arms.
“If they start exploring, they will know more than a body was burned out there. Whatever happens, they cannot find the old tunnels between the other cabins.” Dixon knelt down and picked up a stray block belonging to their two-and-a-half-year-old. “Perhaps a bit of ordnance will solve our problem. The men can get some explosive training, and the kids will do what they do best: sneak across our property to their property to drink. Boom.
“That will require some logistics. I need to make a few calls. Watch what you say to our visitors.” Dixon Knolls went into his office.
Resa answered the doorbell as she continued to admire the little girl. Her few strands of hair had developed into lush curls. “I’ve got it.”
* * *
