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She turned away and went back to the porch, now standing beside Dermot’s chair. “He was here all day.”
“How about your vehicles?” asked Gretchen. “Were all the farm vehicles accounted for all day yesterday?”
“Yes,” said Lark and Vance in unison.
Gretchen took out the warrant and handed it to him. “We understand there are a number of structures on the premises.”
They had looked up a satellite view of the farm on Google Maps before writing their warrant. There was the house, two large cowsheds, a milking parlor, two silos, a barn, two large garages, and one smaller garage. Anya had told them that Vance’s workshop was in one of the old garages.
Josie said, “We have a warrant to search the premises for hot branding implements.”
Vance let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re kidding me, right? Is this some kind of joke? What happened between me and Anya all those years ago was a private matter. You have no right—”
“You were convicted of assault,” Josie pointed out. “You left a permanent scar on her. That was not a private matter, Mr. Hadlee. It was a crime, and no, this is not a joke. We’re going to search the farm for branding implements. Please stay here with Sergeant Grey.”
Vance looked to Cyrus for help, but Cyrus only shrugged. “The law is the law, Vance. You know that.”
“This is bullshit,” Vance said.
Cyrus said, “If it is, then you have nothing to worry about. Let them search.”
Vance turned back to Josie, Gretchen, and Mettner. “Did Anya put you up to this? Why is she bringing this back up after all this time?”
Gretchen said, “All Dr. Feist did was perform the autopsy on Sharon Eddy, as per her job. She merely reported her findings to us. We’re here of our own accord.”
“We’d like to get started,” Mettner added.
Lark stepped forward and beckoned them. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
TWELVE
Lark led them inside the farmhouse, through a large living room where a fire smoldered inside a huge hearth, then through a dim dining room, and into a hallway. From there, they followed her up a set of wooden steps that were so old, they sagged in places. Upstairs, a threadbare carpet lined another hall. Elaborate floral designs meandered across the wallpaper from floor to ceiling. There were four doors in all, each of them white and closed. Nowhere in the house were there any photos, or even the bare minimum of home decor. The place could have been cozy with the right touch, but all it was under the auspices of the Hadlee family was utilitarian. It was a place to live, but it didn’t feel like a home.
Lark pointed at the last door in the hallway. “This is my brother’s room. I’m guessing you want to start here.”
Josie said, “We’ll need to have a look around the entire house, but this is as good a place to start as any.” She nodded toward Mettner. “Detective Mettner can start at the other end of the hall, and we’ll meet him in the middle. That sound okay to you?”
Lark nodded.
Mettner snapped on a pair of gloves and walked toward the other end of the hallway, disappearing behind one of the doors. Lark gestured toward Vance’s bedroom door. “I’ll wait right here and then I can take you around when you’re done.” She glanced back in the direction Mettner had gone and lowered her voice. “Peel the carpet up behind his nightstand. That’s where he keeps things he doesn’t want my dad to find. At least, that’s where he used to keep them.”
Josie snuck a glance at Gretchen, long enough to see from her expression that she was just as intrigued by this offering. Outside, Lark had towed the family line: Vance had been home the entire day yesterday. All the Hadlee vehicles were accounted for that day. But here, away from Dermot and Vance, there was a crack in the united front.
Josie said, “Lark, did you physically see your brother yesterday?”
Jamming her hands into her jeans pockets, Lark shrugged. “No. Usually I see him in the morning for the a.m. milking. We start around four or four thirty. Go till six or six thirty. As long as it takes. My dad can’t help as much as he used to since the stroke. His right side doesn’t work all that well, so it makes a huge difference if Vance helps. He’s usually still up from the night before. Sometimes he helps me, sometimes he doesn’t. On the days that he does, after we finish, I get on with the daily stuff while he goes back to bed. For the afternoon milking we usually have a couple of kids from the high school come out to help. We used to have people come and work for us but a few years back, my dad figured out he could get ‘interns’ from the local school so now that’s what we do.”
“Did you see Vance yesterday at all?” asked Gretchen.
“No. I didn’t actually see him,” Lark said. “But I wasn’t here. I was out doing the work. If he went out, I didn’t notice. Vance spends most of his time here, in his ‘workshop,’ or taking one of the ATVs out around the pastures checking for breaks in the fences that he then ‘assigns’ me to fix. Although, since Dad’s stroke last year, he’s been taking the bobcat out along the north edge of the property to dig. He got it into his head that he wants to put in a pond.” She rolled her eyes. “’Cause that’s what we need. Him digging for a pond instead of helping us run this farm.”
Josie said, “That doesn’t sound very fair.”
Lark sighed. “Yeah, well, Vance never had any real interest in farming, only the income it provides and the status it gives him in town.”
“What about your dad?” asked Gretchen. “What does he do during the day?”
“He can still drive, so sometimes he goes into town for supplies. The guys at the tractor supply load the truck up for him. I unload it for him when he gets back. If he’s not on a supply run then he’s in one of the big garages, working on the tractors. One of ’em’s always broke. It’s not so easy for him anymore with his limitations but he manages, and what he can’t do, I do for him.”
