Page 30 of Mother Clucker

Maybe this whole production wouldn’t be so bad after all. I just had to make it fun.

“What are you doing?” Drew asked as he walked up behind me.

“Letting the chickens run. They’ve been locked up since Saturday.”

“Uh huh. And that?” He motioned toward Rowdy, who’d just finished and was now roaming around.

“They wanted a shot of Rowdy. So I gave them one.”

Laughing, Drew shook his head. “I’m sure you did.”

I was about to casually ask if Heather or Lucy had been in touch with Drew, since I figured they’d be here for this, when a woman in a headset walked up to me.

“Mr. Strickland?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come with me?”

“Uh, sure.” I frowned at Drew, who shrugged like he didn’t know what was happening either, so I followed her.

We ended up at a strange set-up. A wooden bench, set against Drew’s old red barn. On either side were bushel baskets overflowing with corn and pumpkins and mums and in spite of the fact we were outdoors, there were lights and reflectors everywhere, as well as a stationary camera on a tripod.

I glanced at her. “What’s up?”

“Can you sit?”

“Uh, sure.”

Why did I have a feeling I was about to be interrogated? I’d been in a bar fight once in college. They’d dragged us all down to the station, to scare us mostly. That night felt too much like this now.

What the fuck? I sat on the bench and rested my forearms on my knees, suddenly wishing I had a beer.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions. I’d like you to answer them.”

“All right.”

“How did you feel when you heard pets were getting sick, some dying, after eating Strickland Feed Corporation’s imported dog food?”

My brows slammed down over my eyes as I stood. “What the fuck is this?”

“Please, Mr. Strickland. If you could sit back down.”

“No, I’m not gonna fucking sit down.” I looked around, for what I wasn’t sure. Drew. An escape route. Someone to punch who wasn’t a woman.

“It was all over the news. Don’t you want a chance to explain?” she asked.

I leveled a glare on her. “Explain to y’all? So you can manipulate my words and edit it to make it all sound worse than it was? No, thank you.”

“You don’t want to make a statement?” she asked.

“No comment,” I said without turning around as I stalked toward the house.

“What’s wrong?” Drew trotted after me. “David. What happened?”

“I’m leaving.” I threw the front door open and stomped across the living room, heading for the guest room to get my shit and go.

He followed me into the bedroom and closed the door. “Tell me what happened.”

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