Page 18 of Where the Fields Don’t Reach

“Chief Dawkins,” Earl said by way of greeting. He glanced past her to her vehicle. She wondered if he was expecting someone to be with her. “What can I do for you today?”

“Mr. Vinton,” Hadley returned, keeping her own voice level and respectful. “It’s been a while. I was hoping to bend your ear about something that has recently come to my attention.”

Earl stepped out onto the porch and let the screen door slam shut behind him. He slipped the napkin into his pocket, keeping his hand there as he quietly regarded her. He nodded his agreement before using his tongue to dislodge something from one of his molars. She decided to cut straight to the chase.

“I was going through some old paperwork in Reed’s desk this morning,” Hadley began, monitoring for any shift in Earl’s expression. “I found a citation for trespassing out in your east field. October second of last year.”

Earl narrowed his eyes before stepping past her to spit over the railing. He pulled his napkin back out and wiped his mouth. He took his time about it, too.

“Reed never filed that one.”

“No, sir, he didn’t,” Hadley confirmed. “He filled out the form, and he even signed it, but it was obviously never delivered to the violator.”

“Take it up with Warren Caldwell,” Earl said, his pale gray eyes settling on her. His opinion of their mayor was quite evident.

“Believe it or not, I did just that this morning,” Hadley replied, noticing right away that she’d surprised the older man. “I didn’t like his answer, so I thought I’d come straight to the source. Did Reed ever explain to you why he went against your wishes?”

Earl studied her before leaning a shoulder against the paint-chipped column of the porch. He then crossed his arms, as if he’d decided the present conversation was worth his time.

“Caldwell was always pressuring Reed to do what was best for the town…financially, that was. Between you and me, Warren doesn’t really know where his bread is buttered. That man has never spent a day on a farm in his life, and a man who hasn’t spent a day on a farm doesn’t understand or appreciate where the food in his refrigerator actually comes from.”

Earl wasn’t going to get an argument from her. She silently agreed with every word he said, but she was more interested in Roland Mercer. The only way she could ask more in-depth questions was to push the envelope.

“The statute of limitations on misdemeanor trespass in Arkansas is one year,” Hadley explained to him. “We’re inside that window for the original citation, but just barely. I can still serve the citation.”

Earl regarded her for a long moment without answering.

“Or,” Hadley continued, since he seemed willing to wait her out, “if your land has been crossed again recently, I can investigate to see if the violation was committed by the same perpetrator from last year.”

“You’ve been talking to the Rutledge boy.”

It was not a question, and Hadley did not pretend otherwise.

“I pulled Matt over for speeding this morning,” Hadley admitted, deciding that the truth was the only thing that was going to work with Earl. “He mentioned that his sister thought she spotted the Threshing Man. This town has been through enough, don’t you agree?”

“What makes you think that Rutledge girl was mistaken?”

Hadley inhaled slowly while she thought through her reply. The older generation would always believe there was a kernel of truth to the legend. Hadn’t she just explained that to Julian? She chose a different route to get her point across.

“I grew up with the stories, too, Mr. Vinton. But in all the ones that were told to me, the Threshing Man comes during harvest season. Not in the middle of September,” Hadley said, lowering the volume on her portable radio. Dispatch was asking if anyone in the Emberwood area could assist with a domestic disturbance, and Earl didn’t need to hear the specifics. “Someone trespassed on your land again, and I’d like to prevent that from happening again. And you can rest assured, my intentions have nothing to do with the financial interests of this town.”

A breeze came through the porch, lifting the corner of Earl’s collar against his neck. He didn’t adjust it. Instead, he peered over his shoulder to view the east field. When he faced her once again, he nodded what she could only assume was his approval.

“You’re a different kind of chief than we’ve had around here in the past, Chief Dawkins.” Earl rubbed his chin as he studied her. “Reed was a good man, and he tried to please everyone, but Warren had him on a short leash. Did you know that he bailed hay for me two summers straight when he was in high school?”

“I do recall that,” Hadley replied with a fond smile. “When he would take me to the drive-in on Saturday night, he inevitably fell asleep halfway through the film.”

“Worked harder than any boy I ever hired, that one,” Earl said with a warmhearted smile as he dropped his hand. “Shame, the way he died.”

Images of Reed’s charred remains burned in her mind, and she swore the horrid odor from the smoke still lined her nostrils. She made sure her expression didn’t register her unease. She didn’t want Earl to think that her visit had anything to do with Reed’s death. At least, not yet.

Pushing off the pillar, she stood square to him. He’d respect her for that stance, and she was confident he would give her permission to investigate who had been trespassing on his property this past weekend.

Her first interview, of course, would be with Roland Mercer.

“Mr. Vinton, I assure you that I don’t work for Warren Caldwell,” Hadley said clearly, because she wanted Earl to understand her position. “I work for the residents of this town. That includes you.”

“Alright, then.” Earl reached out and offered his hand. She took it. “I believe the past is the past, but should you find out who was on my land recently, I’ll be happy to press charges. That’s the only way these no-accounts will learn.”