Plain Pursuit. Alison Stone

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      ONE

      The pungent odor of manure and smoldering wreckage clogged Anna’s throat. As she coughed, she tented her hand over her eyes to shield them from the lowering sun. Stalks and stalks of corn swayed under brisk winds, masking the point of impact where the single-engine plane plummeted into the earth. An unmistakable desire to scream overwhelmed her. She clamped her jaw to quell her emotions. She had to hold it together for now. Swallowing hard, she tried to rid her mouth of the horrible taste floating in the air. Across the country road from her parked vehicle, first responders fastened the straps to secure the crumpled plane to a flatbed truck.

      Turning her back, she flattened her palms against the window of her car. She closed her eyes as the world seemed to slow to a crawl. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Her brother was dead. She was alone.

      Anna turned around and leaned back against her car. She ran a hand across her damp forehead. It was unusually hot for early October in western New York. The heat rolled off the asphalt, scorching her cheeks. The bold blue numbers 977 stood out on the tail of the plane, remarkably unscathed among the heap of metal. Her brother had sent her a photo of the plane a few weeks ago. He had been so proud of his purchase. She had thought he was crazy. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she realized she had never responded to his email. She had been so wrapped up in her job as a high school counselor at the start of a new school year. Now it was too late to tell him anything.

      Her brother had always been there for her when it truly counted. Now only one thing remained for her to do. She closed her eyes. Dear Lord, please welcome my brother into Your arms. A tear tracked down her warm cheek.

      “Anna Quinn.” A male voice sounded from behind her. Swiping at her wet cheeks, she glanced over the hood of her car, surprised to see a tall gentleman striding toward her with a confidence normally reserved for those in law enforcement. Her legs felt weak and she took a deep breath to tamp down her initial trepidation. His dark suit fit his broad shoulders impeccably but seemed out of place among the uniformed first responders dotting the countryside. The intensity in his brown eyes unnerved her.

      “Yes, I’m Anna.” Dread whispered across the fine hairs on the back of her neck, but she kept her voice even. Her brother was dead. How much worse could it get? Foreboding gnawed at her insides. Past experience told her it could always get worse.

      “I’m Special Agent Eli Miller.” She accepted his outstretched hand. Warmth spread through her palm. Self-aware, she reclaimed her hand and crossed her arms tightly against her body. Thrusting her chin upward, she met his gaze. The compassion in his brown eyes almost crumbled her composure. She wondered fleetingly what it would be like to take comfort in his strong arms. To rely on someone besides herself.

      Heat crept up her cheeks when she realized he was waiting for some kind of response. “You called me about the crash,” she said.

      The call was a blur, yet she had recognized the soothing timbre of his voice. She had barely gotten the name of the town before she hit End and sat dumbfounded in the guidance office where she worked sixty miles away in Buffalo. She had left without explaining her emergency to anyone in the office.

      Anna’s chest tightened. “How did you know to call me?”

      The deep rumble of the flatbed truck’s diesel engine fired to life, drawing the man’s attention. The corners of his mouth tugged down. “Your brother asked me to call you.”

      Anna wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly over the noise of the truck as it eased onto the narrow country road. She tracked the twisted metal of her brother’s plane on top of the flatbed truck until it reached the crest of the hill. Then she turned to face him. Goose bumps swept over her as the significance of his words took shape.

      “When...?” She hesitated, her pulse whooshing in her ears. Had she misunderstood? Was her brother in a hospital somewhere? A flicker of hope sparked deep within her. “When did Daniel ask you to call me? My brother’s...dead?” Rubbing her temples, her scrutiny fell to his suit, his authoritative stance. The world seemed to sway with the cornstalks. “You told me he had been killed.”

      Concern flashing in his eyes, the man caught her arm. “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you. Your brother died in the crash.” He guided her to the driver’s side of her vehicle and opened the door. “Here. Sit down.”

      Anna sat sideways on the seat, her feet resting on the door frame. “When did you talk to my brother?” She stared at the agent’s polished shoes, trying to puzzle it all out. Finally, she met his eyes. “Was he in trouble?”

      “Your brother and I talked last week.” Special Agent Eli Miller rested his elbow on the open door. “Daniel told me to call you if anything should happen to him.” He seemed to be gauging her expression for a reaction.

      Anna scrunched up her face. “If anything happened?” She pointed to the field. “Like if he was killed in a plane crash?”

      “I don’t think he could have predicted that, but yes, he asked me to call you.” He reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out a worn business card with a familiar logo on it. She straightened her back. Years ago, after she had landed her first job as a high school counselor, she had dropped the card into a care package for her brother stationed in Iraq.

      “Daniel gave you that? I don’t understand.” She rubbed her forehead, wishing she could fill her lungs with fresh air—air without this horrible smell.

      “He wasn’t only worried about his own safety.” He never lifted his pensive gaze from her face. “He was worried about yours.”

      “My safety?”

      “Has anything out of the ordinary happened lately?”

      Anna bit her bottom lip. Her mind’s eye drifted to the strange note she had found on her car after school last week. She shrugged. “Someone left a note on my car. It was nothing.” She struggled to recall the exact words on the note. “I think it said, ‘You’re next.’”

      “Did you report it?”

      Anna laughed, the mirthless sound grating her nerves. “No...I’m a high school counselor. A few faculty cars had been egged the week before. That’s all it was.” She scooted out of the car and brushed past him, turning her back to the crash site. “I took the job to help kids. If I ratted them out every time they looked at me sideways, they wouldn’t trust me.” Goodness knew where she’d be if her high school counselor hadn’t reached out to her.

      “Anything strange besides the note?” The concern in his voice melted her composure.

      Tears blurred her vision and she quickly blinked them away. “Other than the occasional disgruntled student—who is harmless, I can assure you—I live a pretty boring life.”

      “Is there anyone you want me to call for you?”

      “No,” she whispered, staring over the cornfields. An uneasiness seeped into her bones. Her brother tended to be the paranoid one, not her. But she couldn’t dismiss it. History told her things weren’t always what they seemed. “Can I see your credentials?” Anna met his assessing gaze; flecks of yellow accented his brown eyes. She turned the leather ID holder over in her hands. Special Agent Eli R. Miller. It seemed legitimate.

      “You met my brother in person?” She studied him, eager to read any clues from the smooth planes of his handsome face. She wanted to ask: Did Daniel seem okay? Was he thin? Dragging a hand over her hair to smooth the few strands that had fallen out of her ponytail, she was ashamed she didn’t know the answers. Ashamed she had grown estranged from her big brother. Dear Lord, please forgive me. Let me find peace through this nightmare.

      Special Agent Miller hiked a dark eyebrow. “Yes. We talked briefly a week ago. I had some questions concerning his return to Apple Creek.”

      Anna