Page 9 of Handling Harley Ann
Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he called Ian.
“Hawkeye.” He said, using Ian’s nickname, to alert his friend that something was amiss. “I’m out here at the local farmer’s market and just found a commercial bug attached to one of the booths.”
“You’re kidding.” Ian said in surprise. “Why would there be a bug out there?”
“That’s why I’m calling you. If I send you a picture, can you tell me who uses this booth when the market is going on?”
Ian chuckled. “You’ve got to be kidding me, buddy. I wouldn’t have a clue.” He paused. “But send me the picture. Piper’s here and she attends that thing all the time. She might be able to tell you.”
Jesse snapped two shots of the booth and sent them to Ian.
“Got ‘em.” Ian said. “Hold on.”
He heard murmured conversation in the background, and then Ian was back.
“Piper says it’s the booth Harley Ann uses.”
Jesse’s skin prickled with warning. “Is she sure?”
More conversation in the background.
“She says yes. Because of the tree in the background. She says they were sitting on it just about an hour ago and talking. She’s a bit wigged out that someone may have been listening to their conversation. What’s going on? Why are you out there looking at those booths?”
“I’ll catch you up later. But tell Piper to keep an eye on Harley Ann. I’m concerned that someone is watching her.” He turned the tiny bug in his fingers. “And listening. Tell her to keep a sharp eye out for anything out of the ordinary.”
He tucked his phone back in his pocket and began the run back to Ian’s house.
Chapter 7
Harley Ann parkedher car on the street outside her Aunt Edna’s. The old Victorian didn’t have a driveway. It didn’t need one when it was build back in the eighteen hundreds and the generations following the original builders had never bothered to add one.
Locking the car, a smart precaution even in this tiny little town, she floated along the front walk past her aunt’s prize winning dahlia’s just poking their heads out of the ground this time of year. Up the steps, across the porch and into the house, she kept trying to convince herself to stop acting like a starry-eyed schoolgirl who’d just caught the attention of the quarterback of the football team.
She’d pegged Jesse ‘Bird Dog’ Miller as a player the minute she laid eyes on him. And, no small town girl like her was likely to change that. He was bored here in Mercy, Mississippi. Probably looking for a little action. Nothing more than that. Oh, she talked big about distractions and a girl needing attention. But, the reality was that she wasn’t that kind of girl.
So what was a nice girl to do when a player had her in his sights?
“That you, Harley Ann?” Aunt Edna called from the kitchen.
“I sure hope so.” She replied. “If I was an axe murderer you’d be in trouble. You really should get in the habit of locking the doors.” She stooped to give her aunt a hug.
Her aunt grunted. A very unladylike sound for someone who constantly harped about ladylike behavior. “I’ve never locked the doors during daylight hours in my life.”
“We live in a different world these days, Aunt Edna. Even here in Mercy.”
She poured a glass of tea and sat at the table with her aunt. “You’re in a mood.”
“I was out in the back yard and someone’s been messing around in my flower beds up against the back of the house.” She slapped one hand on the table between them.
“Half of my flowers are broken or dying. Dang kids, probably.” She shot Harley Ann a wry smile. “They all think I’m a witch, you know.”
Harley Ann concealed a smile behind her glass of tea, taking a sip. She’d heard that rumor shortly after moving to Mercy, two years ago. It amazed her. Not that kids would think Aunt Edna was mean. Because the old woman could throw a hissy fit with the best of them when she didn’t like things. No. What amazed her was that, in this day and age, kids still thought witches existed.
With a sigh, she pushed back from the table. “I’ll go out and see what I can do to fix things.”
Outside, she knelt in the flowerbed that ran the length of the back of the house. Aunt Edna was right. Something had crushed and dug up quite a few of the flowers back here.
She scanned the bed, trying to determine what made her so uneasy about the situation. The tiny hairs on then nape of her neck stirred.
