Fieldwork wasn’t for the faint of heart, Anne being one of those homebodies who didn’t like to get out much. She had two close friends, both extroverts who loved dancing, clubbing, going to movies, concerts, and musicals. Neither woman met a stranger, whereas Anne met them all the time. She didn’t want to be out in public unless it was work-related. But her friends would drag her out. That’s how she learned to line dance, a popular thing in her early EPA working days. Anne never lost control. She drank alcohol occasionally but rarely, if ever, got drunk, especially if she was out of town. All alone in a rural area? Yeah. The idea of drinking by herself was never an option. She had no one-night stands, and even if she did, she’d likely delete his name and number from her databases. Anne was grateful the list had three, maybe four guys, total.  

Anne was at a funeral for a veterinarian that she didn’t know, in a town where she didn’t know anyone, to watch people she was total strangers to. Something didn’t feel right. Anne had that feeling one other time, right before the EPA issued their findings on the Farmworker Pesticide Exposure investigation. Because of Anne and scientists like her, the EPA issued final rules under the Federal Insecticide, Fungicide, and Rodenticide Act (FIFRA), which provided education and training, as well as newer personal protective equipment to lower the exposure rate for farmers. Anne’s career started with implementing these new rules, grateful to be on the saving side of science. She couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like to be Nobel or Oppenheimer. That’s why she was at the funeral of a man she didn’t know. She didn’t want to be on the ‘bad’ side of science.

Leaving the funeral, she made a point to be one of the last cars to leave. The black SUV sat in the same spot, right where it was when she entered the funeral parlor. She got in her rental, put her seatbelt on and waited to turn the key. When she was getting ready to start the car, two men stepped out of the black SUV, the funeral procession heading to the cemetery, a few blocks from the funeral home. The two men came over to her car wearing dark sunglasses. The senior of the two knocked on her window, indicating that she needed to roll it down. She rolled down her window with the key in the ignition in the on position.

“Ms. Jansen, I’m Barry Lawson, and this is my partner, Brian Marshall.” He flashed her his badge clipped to his belt, and Marshall followed suit. Marshall kept watch, for what Anne wasn’t exactly sure.

“You two followed me here?”

“No, Ms. Jansen. We didn’t follow you. We knew you’d come here first.”

“Come here first? It’s like you know what I will do before I do.”

“That’s because we do,” Marshall said. The bass in his voice was a lower resonance than his partner’s, surprising for a younger man. “We want to know why you decided to come to a funeral for a man you don’t know. You got in town a few days ago, investigating the Cartwright cows, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“That’s not something I can discuss with you. Not until our investigation is over.”

“Lady, I don’t care one iota about your investigation. What I care about is the people who are dying in this town. Natural causes or not, I’m not ready to see one more person die at the hands of the Zaterelli family.” Marshall walked around to the passenger side of Anne’s car, got inside, and removed the keys after turning off the car. “I don’t think you know how serious this town is, and why the Zaterelli’s want their hands on it, do you?”

“Out of the way, town? Middle of nowhere? Few witnesses? And low-profile criminals that have their hands on some cash-based businesses? See what falls of the truck out here? Sounds like a good story.”

Marshall laughed. “See? I told you she was smarter than you gave her credit for.”

“Say what?” she spat at Marshall. “Smarter than what?” She spun around to address Marshall, Lawson standing in front of her.

“Us, of course.” Marshall smiled.