Free Captive Justice: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 4) by Rayven T. Hill

of baked goods.
    An elderly man rose from a chair at the table as Hank glanced his way. A tattered baseball cap was perched high on his head, his teeth arrayed in a welcoming smile. He pointed to a chair. “Have a seat, friend. Maggie’ll rustle you up a cup of coffee and we can talk,” he said, as he extended his hand.
    Hank introduced himself and shook the timeworn hand. It was unusually strong, made so by the years of hard work necessary to maintain a livelihood at this dying occupation.
    Hank settled back in his chair and spoke. “Mr. Scott, I understand you were the one who discovered the body a little earlier.”
    The old man nodded. “Yup. It were a shock, I’ll tell you that. Ain’t never seen anything like that in all my years. Maggie and me been running this place nigh on fifty years now and ain’t nothing like that ever sprung up. Least not as I can recall.”
    Hank smiled at the man’s words. It brought back warm memories and reminded him of his own grandfather and of the many pleasant days he’d spent on a farm such as this.
    He turned his head a moment as a kettle whistled on the stove. Maggie was fixing coffee.
    “I just have a few questions for you, Mr. Scott. I know you’re busy and I won’t take up too much of your time.”
    “Ain’t no worry. Things’ll wait. I know this is mighty important and all. That poor girl. Did you find out who she is?”
    “We believe we know who she is,” Hank said. “However, we need to keep that quiet until we notify her husband.”
    The old farmer shook his head. “This’ll be bound to rip a hole right through the man’s heart. It ain’t easy finding out your kin’s met with something like that.”
    Maggie set two cups of coffee on the table along with cream and sugar. She bustled back to the counter and returned with two generous portions of some kind of loaf. Hank caught a whiff of the warm snack. Banana bread, covered with a slab of melting butter. “Try that,” she said. “It’s fresh baked. And you can fix up your own coffee and there’s fresh cream, skimmed off the top.”
    Hank thanked her and fixed his coffee, lots of sugar and a generous portion of the thick cream.
    “If you want more just holler,” Maggie said, as she wiped her hands on her apron and turned away.
    Hank assured her he would and spoke again to the old man. “Mr. Scott, when you discovered the body, did you disturb it in any way?”
    The farmer shook his head firmly. “No sir, I surely didn’t. I just raced for home and called you up right quick. I know enough to not touch nothing cause I didn’t want to be mixing with the evidence. I know you investigators can find out a lot of stuff these days just by looking at how things are. Me and Maggie watch that CSI on the TV and sometimes they just has to take one quick look and they got the whole thing figured out, just like that.”
    Hank chuckled. “It’s not usually that easy, but we’ve come a long way.” He took a bite of the banana bread and turned to Mrs. Scott, who beamed as he said, “This is delicious.”
    “Mr. Scott,” Hank continued. “Did you see anyone at all in the area?”
    Scott shrugged. “Nope. Weren’t nobody around. Only people you see out here that time of day is just old farmers like me.”
    “Would you happen to know an exact time when you saw the body?”
    “Nope, but I calculate it weren’t more’n five minutes afore I was on the phone to the police.”
    Hank took the final gulp of his coffee. “You’ve been a big help, Mr. Scott.”
    The old man was looking at the ceiling, a frown creasing his forehead. “Come to think of it,” he said, as he faced Hank and leaned forward. “I did see a truck. It were coming at me mighty fast, maybe just a mile or so from where I seen the woman.”
    Hank was about to pop the last bite of banana bread into his mouth. His hand stopped halfway and froze. “You saw the truck before you saw the body, or after?”
    “Before.”
    “So, you passed the