Free Poisoned Ground by Sandra Parshall Page A

curls. “I’ve just been watching and waiting. But I always figured it would fall through because Joanna won’t sell. Why should she? She’s probably the only person left in this county who’s making a living on her own property.”
    “Have you talked to her about it? Tried to persuade her to sell?”
    “Who am I to tell her what to do with her land? I know plenty of other people have been after her about it, though.”
    “Were people after the Kellys to sell, too?”
    She shrugged, her shoulder bones showing in sharp relief under the t-shirt fabric. “I’m sure they were. There’s a lot of money involved. At least people think so. I’ve been hearing crazy talk that makes Packard’s plans sound like the Second Coming.”
    “You don’t think it would work out?” Brandon asked. “The jobs and everything?”
    “What if they build it and it’s a bust?” Tavia spoke in a speculative tone that didn’t demand an answer. “They might never attract all those rich vacationers they’re counting on. If I had a lot of money, this backwater sure as hell wouldn’t be my idea of a fun getaway.”
    “But that wouldn’t matter, would it,” Tom said, “if you and Jake got your money and got out? You could leave Mason County behind forever.”
    For the first time Tavia looked cagey, withdrawing behind a wary expression. “I don’t speak for Jake. He doesn’t speak for me.”
    “I thought you two were pretty close. I got the impression you want to cash in your land so you can move away and start over together.”
    One corner of her mouth lifted in amusement. “Oh, that’s your impression, is it?”
    “Are you saying it’s not true?”
    She pushed away from the post. “I’m not saying anything. I wish I could help you, Tom, but I don’t see any way I can.”
    “All right. By the way, are you going to the community meeting with the Packard people tomorrow?”
    “Oh, you bet. I wouldn’t miss that show for the world.”

Chapter Eleven
    A chorus of barks and yelps erupted from the dog pens behind the house when Holly and Rachel parked their cars at the end of the driveway and slammed the doors behind them. In this quiet country setting, the residents of the Blue Ridge Animal Sanctuary picked up every sound, and they always reacted to the arrival of vehicles. Rachel had dropped Billy Bob off at home before following Holly out here. His time with the Kellys’ overwrought dog was enough excitement for one day.
    Holly and her grandmother, who once lived in the county’s poorest district, now occupied a stately brick house on property Holly had inherited from a murdered aunt. That aunt had been married to Robert McClure’s brother, and this house had been built by Robert McClure’s grandfather. Rachel doubted the banker had ever accepted the idea of Holly owning it. She and her grandmother had transformed the property into an animal shelter, and its first beneficiaries were abandoned dogs Rachel had rescued and abused animals Tom had saved from a dog fighting operation.
    On their way to the front door, Holly whispered to Rachel, “She’s gonna be real mad at me for draggin’ her into this.”
    “She may not be involved at all.” Rachel kept her own voice low, although she wasn’t sure why. Holly’s grandmother couldn’t hear them from inside if they spoke in normal tones. “If she knows something that could help Tom’s investigation, I’m going to try to persuade her to go see him.”
    “Then she might be mad at you, too.”
    “Let her. She’ll get over it.” Rachel had tangled with Sarelda Turner more than once, starting the day Rachel had literally helped Holly escape her family’s smothering grasp. They had developed a respect for each other since then, and Rachel knew the cranky old woman would usually do the right thing if somebody prodded her.
    When Holly and Rachel walked into the living room, three mongrel dogs greeted them with wagging tails. Mrs. Turner lifted an orange tabby cat off