Reap a Wicked Harvest Read Online Free Page A

be sick,” she mumbled, her hand clasped over her mouth.
    I never thought I’d have anything in common with Allison Thorpe, but at that moment I was in total agreement. Bile burned my throat and made my eyes water. Natalie grabbed
Allison’s arm and guided her to the privacy of a gangly forsythia bush. As I listened to Allison eject the contents of her stomach, I wondered if I’d have to join her behind the shrub. Waves of nausea rolled over me. I shut out the sounds of Allison’s retching and focused on the people.
    They stood in tight groups, watching and waiting. I wished for more light so I could study the faces, but the glow from the yard and porch lights didn’t extend to where most had congregated. Donovan had arrived. His arm was wrapped around Emily. I thought I saw Harley, but in the dark I couldn’t be sure. I searched for Jacob, but didn’t see him. Jess, however, caught my eye and started toward me. I shook my head at him. I didn’t feel like talking.”
    Time crawled as tension mounted. The greenhouses were twenty minutes from River City. Help would be at least that far away unless a patrol car happened to be cruising in this part of the county. That didn’t seem to be the case, as more minutes passed. My heart’s rhythm settled into a wait-and-see pattern. Then I caught the unmistakable sound of sirens in the distance.
    The cacophony increased as the cars got closer. My pulse thudded with dread at what was coming—the disclosure of the body’s identity, the questions, the piecing together of information. I hadn’t used the word murder even in my thoughts, but that was the logical conclusion.
    Tires squealed at the bottom of the bluff, but the sirens didn’t cease. We traced their route up the hill by the flashing lights that shone against the treetops. As the entourage rolled toward us, I swallowed uneasily. The third car in the parade of emergency vehicles belonged to Sidney Hancock, sheriff of Spencer County.
    From the moment Sid stepped from his patrol car he made it known that he was in charge. He issued orders to his deputies.
They fanned out along the driveway, facing the fortress of foliage.
    A paramedic shouted, “Where we going, Sheriff?”
    â€œI’m about to find out,” said Sid. He went around his car and opened the passenger door. Only then did I see my father sitting on the front seat. He tried to get out, but his movements were stiff and painful. Sid reached in to assist, but my father quickly shrugged away his offer of help.
    Once my father was standing, Sid said something I couldn’t hear. My father replied, “I think I remember.”
    From his answer and given the circumstances, I figured Sid had asked my father to take him to the body. I was pretty sure what my reception would be, but I didn’t want my father to face that task without moral support. I walked toward them, my shoes crunching on the gravel.
    Sid spun around. He proves the adage that redheads have fiery tempers. His was in control at the moment, but he was as volatile as a keg of TNT. My husband had been one of Sid’s deputies and a good friend. I couldn’t make that claim. Sid didn’t approve of my amateur sleuthing, even though I’d had favorable results.
    He faced me with his hands on his gun belt and his shoulders bowed in an aggressive manner. In a fairly pleasant tone, he said, “I assumed you’d be here when I saw your father. Whose idea was it to station him at the gate?”
    â€œHis.”
    Sid nodded. “Let’s hope he can be just as resourceful when it comes to leading us to the body. He’s told me the story, but he’s a little hazy on the location. From his general directions, I’ve sent two officers into the garden, but we may need him to narrow the search. Since you’re here, you can come with us.”
    â€œWhat do you mean hazy?”

    â€œHe says he found the body near