Field of Danger. Ramona Richards

you without me making it worse. I’m just…I’m sorry about your dad.” Her tight voice held a slight tremor. “He was a good man. A good friend. I wish I could help you find the man responsible. But I didn’t really see…just the gun…and then I ran and hid in the corn.”

      As April’s words faded, Aunt Suke sat next to Daniel and spoke softly to April. “You’ve been shook to the core, and who can blame you? There’s no call to be apologizing for that.”

      Daniel looked down at the rug, sorrow and frustration tearing a hole in his entire being over his own loss, and what all of this was doing to April. He knew this was exactly why Ray had told him to go home; he had to get control of his feelings or he wouldn’t be of any use to anyone.

      He looked up again, this time meeting the uncertain look in April’s bright green eyes dead-on. “I can help you with that.”

      “What?”

      “I can help,” he repeated to April. “I know how rough it is to see someone get shot. I know it disrupts everything you thought right and good. That anyone could turn a gun on another person just doesn’t register with most of us, and that’s the way it should be. And I know you’re terrified.”

      “Not exactly.”

      He stopped, waiting for her to go on, watching as she took a deep breath and sat a bit straighter in the chair.

      “I mean, I was with that man shoving his way through the corn, firing shots in the air, threatening me in the cellar—”

      Daniel’s eyes widened. “Did he call you by name or were the threats just wild?”

      April looked very small and still in her chair. “He called my name. Said he would kill me.” She swallowed hard. “Kill us. Said the cops couldn’t protect us.”

      “He’s wrong.” Daniel leaned forward on his seat. “We can help you. I can help you. I know it’s hard right now, with the shock and horror blurring your memories, but if we work together, I think I can help you identify the killer.”

      Silence covered the room a moment, then Aunt Suke spoke softly. “You mean this is someone we all know.”

      Slowly Daniel nodded. “This wasn’t a robbery or a carjacking. The killer didn’t take anything but my father’s life. This was someone with a personal grudge, not to mention someone who knew Levon well enough to know where to find him. There’s not a doubt in my mind—the killer’s a local.”

      April took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve not been here long enough to make many friends. Aside from my sister, I barely know anyone but Levon, and the people he’d introduced me to.”

      All her muscles seemed to tighten. “But Levon didn’t have enemies, did he? He was a great man. Everyone loved him. How could anyone want or have a reason to do this?”

      Good question. One Daniel had already been turning over in his mind a hundred times. Levon Rivers was not only a good man, he was a beloved man. Daniel had never heard an ill word against his father the entire time he was growing up, and when he’d thrown a sixtieth birthday barbecue for Levon four years ago, the entirety of Caralinda showed up.

      Whoever the shooter was, he’d managed to keep his grudge against Levon well-hidden. Would he be as successful at hiding his guilt now that the crime was done? Daniel was afraid so, which made April’s blocked memories even more important.

      He had to try a different tactic.

      Daniel put his hat on the sofa beside him and leaned farther forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he focused on her eyes. “I know that you took him lemonade every morning he worked in the fields. He told me. He loved that about you, said it made him feel remembered, especially when he was doing something on his own, no hired folks about.”

      Her eyes glistened a bit at this, and she nodded.

      “So you were on the way this morning, walking through the field.”

      She nodded again. “Through the corn.”

      “He planted it pretty dense this year.”

      Again, she agreed. “A different hybrid he was trying. Harder walking than last year, but he said it would make the harvest easier, with the way the combines worked. But it allowed a lot of weeds to grow up in some places.” She smiled slightly, as if remembering something. “Levon encouraged me to walk around the fields, to use the field road to make it easier, but it was still quicker to go through. I told him that the harder hiking was good for me, that I needed the exercise. He laughed.”

      I’m sure he did, thought Daniel. April stood almost as tall as his own six-foot height, and her lean, muscular frame reminded him of an Olympic athlete. She had been softer, less muscular when she’d arrived in Caralinda a year ago, a beautiful, vibrant woman he’d wanted very much to spend more time with.

      He’d even asked her out, but she’d told him that her divorce still stung and she couldn’t manage anything but friendship. He’d understood, sort of. He’d been through breakups, but nothing as serious as a divorce.

      April had obviously been healed by Caralinda, however. The days in the sun, walking the fields with his father, and the work in her own garden had slimmed her down even more and made her skin glow. Her emerald-green eyes had always been bright against her reddish-brown hair and the freckles that splattered across her face, but now they gleamed as they met his focused gaze without flinching.

      She knows what I’m doing, he realized. Good. He cleared his throat.

      “Did you hear anything before you stepped out of the corn?”

      April thought for a moment, then shook her head.

      “What did you see first?”

      She closed those emerald eyes, and her brow furrowed. “His back. The shooter’s. Then your dad.”

      “Was he taller than Dad?”

      April hesitated a moment, trying to remember. “N-no. I could still see the top of your dad’s head.” She held her hands about two feet apart. “But broader. I think.”

      “What was the shooter wearing?”

      She hesitated. “Jeans. Dirty. Beat-up jeans. A light shirt. White…or pale blue. Maybe.”

      “Anything on his head?”

      “A ball cap.”

      “What color?”

      Another pause, then she shook her head.

      “What did you see next?”

      The furrows deepened. “I saw…” Her eyes, still shut, clenched tighter. “Levon stepped back so I saw his face, then there was the shot….” She stopped, and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

      April opened her eyes. “I can’t remember anything after that. I just…ran.”

      Daniel pressed down hard on the frustration, the grief that threatened to boil over in him once more, and his already taut muscles clenched harder from the effort. She’d been doing so well, was clearly trying so hard. He’d gotten his hopes up that the memories were returning on their own by sheer force of will. But now she looked crushed all over again, even the little bit that she’d remembered hurting her all over again.

      Daniel turned to Aunt Suke. “You called 911. You saw it?”

      Aunt Suke shook her head. “I heard the first shot. By the time I got to one of the windows, all I could see was Levon on the ground, and two people tearing through the cornfield. When I realized one of them was April, I knew she’d probably seen what went down. I told the operator, then went after her.”

      “Could you see the shooter?”

      Aunt Suke wagged a hand toward the cornfield. “Nothing. By the time I got to the window, he was crashing around in the corn. All I could see was