“Hey, kiddo,” Xander said. “I’ll pass on the breakfast, but thanks for the offer. You save those for you.”
Joey shrugged and returned to watching the cartoons on the television.
“That was quite the offer,” Rose noted quietly. “Are you sure you want to turn it down? Joey won’t share his Pop-Tarts with just anyone. Not even Craig. You must be special.”
“I’m honored. I’m just not interested in chocolate-and-marshmallow sludge this early in the morning.”
“How about coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Rose poured two mugs of hot coffee and passed one over to him. “Joey,” she said, “could you turn it over to the news? I want to see what time the parade is supposed to start.”
Joey pouted for a moment and then flipped the channel from cartoons to news. The local guy was talking about the weather, and then the woman gave an update on the festival and parade route. It looked as if it would begin at eleven.
“I know they’re announcing the bake-off winners at ten,” Xander added, “so we should get down there earlier. I have to go by the farm and change first. I probably need to be there by nine-thirty since I’m helping hand out the awards.”
“We’ll meet you at the winners’ ceremony,” Rose said.
Xander had turned away from the television once he had the information he needed about the parade, but the woman’s voice caught his attention again.
“...sketch to help the local authorities identify the body found at the Bridgeton Properties site last December.”
His face jerked back toward the TV in time for the long-awaited sketch to flash up on the screen. Xander’s stomach sank, the coffee turning bitter on his tongue. It had finally happened. The artist’s re-creation was looking back at him. All hell was about to break loose.
The woman on the news continued to talk while it was displayed. “The coroner’s office reported last year that the victim was a young Caucasian male, approximately age sixteen to twenty-four. Cause of death was believed to be blunt-force trauma to the head. If you have any information about this crime or recognize the person in the sketch, please call the local sheriff’s office.” A number flashed onto the screen.
“That’s just awful,” Rose said.
Yeah, that was about what he was thinking. Once the Strawberry Days stuff wrapped up today, he needed to get back to the farm to start running interference.
“You never expect something like that to happen where you live,” he commented, and it was true. You certainly never expected it to happen to you, either.
“I don’t recognize the sketch. Do you?”
“Nope,” he said without turning to look again. And honestly, it didn’t look that much like Tommy. If he hadn’t known for a fact that the dead guy was his former bunkhouse-mate, he wouldn’t have connected the dots himself.
“Does it freak you out to know that someone died on your parents’ property while you were there?”
Xander shrugged. “Not really. The farm is huge. Any number of things could’ve happened out there and no one would know it. Besides, it might’ve happened before Heath and I came there. The timeline window they’ve given is pretty broad.”
“That would creep me out. It’s bad enough knowing that there’s a murderer running around Cornwall somewhere,” she said quietly so Joey wouldn’t hear. “What if it’s someone I know? Someone I trust?” Rose shivered into her robe, pulling the plush fabric tighter around her.
He had been right, he thought drily. Rose would not understand. There would be no explaining it to her, only rationalizing away her argument. “It was a long time ago. Anyone could’ve stumbled onto the property and no one would know it. Two guys hiking through the area might’ve gotten into an argument in the woods and one could’ve offed the other. It could be two people we’ve never met in our life,” he added.
“I suppose,” Rose agreed. “Are you hungry?”
“A little. I’d be happy to eat anything without strawberries,” he said. There would be plenty of strawberry foods today at the parade. He didn’t need more here.
Rose nodded and turned away to the refrigerator. As she opened the door, Xander noticed a flyer that read Scout Camp in big letters at the top.
“Is Joey going to scout camp?” he asked. He’d gone at Joey’s age and had loved it. He’d learned how to shoot a bow and arrow, tie a million knots, ride a horse and make art out of macaroni.
Rose raised her finger to her lips to quiet him. They both glanced over at Joey, but he had switched back to cartoons and was paying them no attention. “No. He wanted to go, but I couldn’t afford it.”