Chapter 11

After the evening milking, Wes moseyed to the guest cottage and Brynn ambled off to the house. Most nights they had dinner together, but tonight Wes was exhausted and wanted to go to bed. Brynn was wired with worry about him—and about the murder. Who killed Donny? Whoever it was, the person was still free.

Brynn walked around the house, once again, making sure all the doors were locked and the windows were secure. She loved sleeping with the windows open, but the temperatures were so high the past few weeks that she much preferred the air conditioning.

She sat down at her computer and checked in with the online orders. There were several. She printed them off, which always made Wes chuckle. She liked to have the paper in hand to keep for her paper files—even though everything was also online. The business continued to roll along, even though her work efforts had doubled because of taking on the cheese competition at the fair. But that was okay. She expected a busy summer.

But what she hadn’t expected, of course, was a murder around the corner from her—or that Wes would be the person to stumble on the body. She didn’t like conflict of any kind, but here it was. But then again, the police might find the killer and wouldn’t need to question Wes again.

Yes, she was sure that’s what would happen—at least that’s what she’d tell herself in order to get to sleep tonight.

She clicked on the cheese contest files and scanned them over, checking to make sure she’d gotten all the information she needed for the contest. The types of cheeses listed made her mouth water. Asiago. Romano. Pecorino. Parmesan. Hard cheese was a bit easier to store, so Brynn limited the contest to hard cheese and semi-hard, like Gouda.

Most of the cheese in the contest would be aged for between two and thirty-six months and, in some cases, even longer. Aging determines the intensity of the flavor. A well-aged cheese is more flavorful, less creamy, and grainier in texture. Brynn’s stomach growled. She had made herself hungry.

Wasn’t there a container of fresh soft cheese in the fridge?

She found her way to the kitchen, switched on a light, and opened the fridge. Ah, yes. There it was. She spotted a bottle of half-finished red wine on the counter and half a loaf of fresh bread and voilà, she fashioned herself a lovely light dinner.

She took her plate and a glass of wine to the living room, got comfy on the couch, and switched on the TV. She flipped the channels until she spotted the local news.

There was Sheriff Edge talking about the murder of Donny Iser.

“Do you have any suspects?” the reporter asked.

“As I said, we have several persons of interest. No suspects.” His jaw twitched. “That’s all I can say about an ongoing investigation.”

The show snapped off to a commercial.

Several persons of interest? That meant that the police were not only looking at Wes, which was a good thing. It was such a shame that he’d run into a murder victim. Poor Wes. Such a good kid. And of all people to be involved in a tractor accident—Josh was a solid guy. Family man. Pillar of the community. And he was in jail for the accident. There must be more to that story.

Brynn finished her light dinner and continued watching the news. The big news was the upcoming fair. This year there’d be more animals, more crafts, and more rides than ever before. A special petting zoo, featuring miniature ponies, was an exciting new feature.

Miniature ponies? The camera panned over them. How cute. Brynn was going to make certain she visited the petting zoo.

She shut off the TV and moved to the kitchen to rinse off her plate and glass. She left them in the sink.

Brynn checked all the doors and windows again. She may be paranoid, but better safe than sorry. Everything was locked up, and she headed to bed.

She tossed and turned, contemplating Willow and what she’d witnessed, and poor Wes and what he’d stumbled on. He was too young to see such horrifying things. Brynn hoped it wouldn’t affect him too much. He was so sensitive, though, she knew that it was just that measure of sensitivity that might influence him so much that he wouldn’t be able to quite get over it.

Not only did he have to find a dead body, but then to be questioned about it? Wes had been chucked into a mature situation, whether he was ready for it or not.

She pulled her quilt in closer around her. But then again, how could anybody prepare for such a thing?

What would she do if it were her? She hoped and prayed it never would be.