Dylan’s brows lift. “Wow. She said that?”
“Not directly, no. I overheard her making her opinion of me known to her girlfriends before the fireworks last summer.”
“I mean, you can be kind of know-it-all,” Dylan says good-naturedly, “but in a harmless way. And in any case, that was uncalled for. You want me to put in a good word for you? Lucy and I aren’t that close, but I’ve known her since we were kids. Maybe I can get her to ease up a little.”
“I’m not sure—” I’m cut off by the jangle of bells and reach for my phone. “Sorry, I’m closed for the season, but I’m coordinating the tree composting program, and people seem to have a lot of questions about whether they can leave on the tinsel.”
“No worries,” Dylan says, motioning for me to take the call.
It’s a local number, but not one I recognize, so I give my answer the professional treatment. “Victoria Tree farm, Lawrence speaking. How may I help?”
“Lawrence, thank goodness,” a breathless female voice replies. “I’m sorry to call so late, but my car won’t start, and I can’t get in touch with Lucy, and I’m getting worried. I mean, I’m sure her cell is just out of service range, but she’s going after this guy who’s been trespassing on her property tonight, and I’m concerned for her safety. I’m not going to be able to get there to be her backup, so I thought—”
“I’m sorry, who is this?” I cut in, pushing my beer away, already calculating how many minutes it will take to get to Lucy. “And what’s this about a man trespassing?”
“I’m sorry, it’s Emma. Emma Haverford.”
I cut a glance Dylan’s way as his expression instantly darkens, proving he can hear every word of the conversation.
“And yes, Lucy’s had a streaker running through her farm every night for almost a month now, but she didn’t want to call the police until she could positively identify him. She didn’t want word getting out that she had a pervert on her property wearing nothing but a Santa hat and a stocking on his you-know-what, you know?” Emma sucks in a breath but rambles on before I can reply. “She’ll probably be furious that I told you, but you’re close to her property, and I just have this horrible feeling she’s in trouble. She’s planning to shoot the guy with a slingshot, and I can imagine about a hundred ways that could go wrong. So if you could just go check on her maybe? And tell her that I’m so sorry I can’t make it. I mean, I would bike over, but it’s so dark and cold, and I have to confess I’m a little spooked. The moon is really creepy tonight, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Emma.” I stand, crossing to fetch my coat from the hook by the back door. “I’ll make sure she hasn’t gotten into any trouble and then text you afterward to put your mind at ease.”
Emma lets out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. She said she was going to be in the deer blind on the edge of her property. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ll find it,” I assure her. “Take care and don’t worry. I’ll be in touch soon.”
I end the call and shrug on my coat before reaching for my sock cap. “Feel free to stay, if you like,” I tell Dylan. “I should be back in half an hour. Maybe less.”
“Thanks, but I have to head home and check on my nephews. They’re going to a party tonight, and I need to make sure they know how much shit they’re going to be in if I find out they’ve been drinking.” He rises from his chair, reaching for his keys at the edge of the table with a grunt. “Spooked by the moon. See, man? I told you. She’ll be gone before bud break.”
I open the door and glance up to see an eerie crescent moon hanging low in the sky, looking like the glowing, slitted eye of an ancient monster, and hum beneath my breath.
Dylan appears beside me, grunting again. “Okay, so maybe that’s a little creepy. I have a high-powered flashlight in my truck. You want it? There might not be enough moonlight to find Lucy’s deer blind in the dark.”
“Yes, thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
“No problem. Too bad I don’t have a metal vest in the bed, too. You know the chances that she’s going to shoot you first and figure out if you’re the streaker later, are pretty damned high, right?”
I sigh. “The thought had crossed my mind. But what’s the worst that can happen with a slingshot?”
“She puts your eye out,” Dylan supplies. “And you’re blind in one eye for the rest of your life because you tried to do a good deed for a neighbor. Or maybe both eyes. If I remember, Lucy’s a damned good shot.”