Kelly
Sniffling, I blow my nose on a tissue, tossing it to the middle of the table where it joins the others from the last hour. The tears that keep forming and streaming down my face aren’t only for the guys, albeit most of them are.
Especially the words from Owen.
I can still see the anger in his eyes and the stress on his face.
But he’s right. Every word that came forth from his mouth is correct. I know better than to mix personal and professional matters, and yet it didn’t stop me from mingling with Trent and Owen. Down right falling head over heels in love with them.
The guilt overtaking me at the moment is relentless in its torture of my heart and mind. I should feel guilty. Trent and Owen don’t deserve any of the blame. It’s all on me. I understand that I’m the one who gave in to the temptation, even though I know better.
It’s a huge lapse in judgment on my part. I let my emotions interfere with this investigation and multiple things have happened because of it. I’m starting to doubt myself and what I consider my strong attributes. They weren’t that strong during this case.
But none of my clients ever look like Owen or Trent.
Stop. It’s no excuse.
Not only am I fretting over Owen and Trent, I’m hurting because of the animals that lost their familiar place to bed for the night, not to mention the ranch hands. If I’m doing my job, the explosion and subsequential fire wouldn’t have even been a thing.
I’ve never had relations with any other client, until now. This isn’t me and I would have had the perp in cuffs, heading to the county jail for all the other clients.
Sighing, I wipe the tears spilling over onto my notes and toss the tissue into the pile. Flipping page after page, scanning over my notes for the fourth time this morning, I hope to find something that might give me a clue. Anything. I canceled the meeting with the auditor’s office because of the fire and my lack of sleep.
But, I want to be able to offer some information as an act of contrition. Images of ranch hands and my conversations with them keep running like a movie reel that’s playing over and over in my head. Shaking my head, I feel the frustration climb up my back, digging its claws ever deeper.
Shouting out of my frustration, I clear the table of everything, scattering it everywhere. It’s no use to keep looking as my mind is crumbling under the strain of my own personal Pandora’s Box. The guilt alone is too heavy for me to carry.
Sighing and blowing my nose, I stand and get the small trash can from the bathroom, beginning to collect all of the tissues and pens that litter the floor surrounding the table and part of the great room. I’m an idiot.
No I’m not. Everyone at sometime or another has a lapse in judgment, causing real issues and problems not only for themselves, but for others that care about them.
I set the trash can on the counter and grab a diet soda from the fridge. Taking a drink, I set it on the table and walk outside for some fresh farm air. I don’t see Owen or Trent anywhere. The smell of the burnt wood from the barn still hangs in the air.
After taking a couple of deep breaths, I feel that I’m ready to look over my notes again. Going back inside, I walk to the wall where my notepad is and pick it up. When I do, I see something that I’d written down, but forgot about.
Sitting at the table again, I cross a leg under me and flip the small pages back and forth. One page makes note of Elizabeth McNally’s expertise in livestock, but another page mentions her extreme skill in fixing the broken tractor.
Unusual, but not unheard of.
There must be something that ties the two notes together and all I keep coming up with is the person of Elizabeth McNally. I remember Trent saying a word in passing about it as well. As I sit there, sipping my soda trying to piece this together, my phone rings.
The facial recognition guy is returning my call. I answer the phone with a somber, “Hello.”
“Hey, Kelly,” he says, “I did some digging and talked to the auditor’s office. The other couple that were in a bidding contest for the ranch in question, is George and Elizabeth McNally.”
No sooner had the words come out of his mouth, my eyes widened in disbelief. It can’t be that simple. Ah, but it is! The same woman that bid against them is now sabotaging the entire ranch. I’ve been too distraught, and not working the case to remember that I also sent samples to the lab. Hearing a cough on the other end reminds me that he’s still waiting. “Thanks! Thanks so much!”
I hang up the phone and go to the mailbox in search of the results. Sure enough they are there and I tear open the package on the spot. My mouth drops open as I pull the packet out of the envelope, quickly scanning them for results The tests on the soil are conclusive for agent orange.
No wonder some of the ranch hands have been complaining of tingling in their hands and a few had blemishes on their face. Elizabeth must’ve used the herbicide on Trent and Owen’s crops to kill them, but also hurt the ranch hands that touched the fields on a daily basis, in the process.
Super stoked that I finally have an answer to the who and the why of the case, I run back to my place and put together my notes and the findings. Trent and Owen will be happy that I’ve singled out the possible perpetrator.
I might be able to gain their trust back, but more importantly, their faith in me.