Free Fatal Harvest by Catherine Palmer Page B

Banyon got depressed and put a bullet through his brain. Matt must have come upon that scene this afternoon and panicked.”
    Jill mulled over the idea. “But his e-mail made it clear he feels he’s not safe. He thinks someone is after him.”
    For a minute, Cole said nothing. Finally, he swallowed. “You know my son pretty well, Miss Pruitt?”
    “Jill. Yes, I think I do.”
    “Then you know Matt is different. I’ll admit that much about him, though I don’t like it when people say he’s obsessed or weird. When kids call him names and pick on him, I hate that. But the fact is, Billy’s right when he says Matt doesn’t fit into the normal world. You try to talk to him, and his head is somewhere else. He’s always been that way. Just different, you know?”
    “I know. That’s why he’s so wonderful.”
    At that, he turned to look at her. “You see the good in him?”
    “I see more than good. I see brilliance. Genius. I see a future full of possibility for your son. If I had a child, I’d be thrilled if he turned out just like Matt.”
    “His teachers tell me he has poor social skills.”
    “Well, they’ve never heard him talk about things he really cares about. Besides, what sixteen-year-old has good social skills?”
    He laughed. “I was a mess at sixteen.”
    “Me, too. But then, I’ve always walked my own path in life—trying to go in the direction God leads me. People don’t like that sometimes. They don’t get it. I stopped caring a long time ago what folks thought. That’s how Matt is. He gets his instructions from God, and he’s very literal about putting his faith into practice. I love that about him.”
    “Yeah. So do I.” He fell silent again. When he spoke, hisvoice was husky. “Anyhow, I figure Matt must have the notion that someone’s chasing him. You know, he gets these thoughts. He tries to reason things out—but if it’s not math or science, it doesn’t compute. I think he’s running from a phantom.”
    “I hope you’re right. I’m not so sure. The things he told me about companies like Agrimax…well, I was disturbed.”
    “What’s to fear? It’s pretty straightforward, if you ask me. Making money is their bottom line, and no one who believes in capitalism can have a problem with that. I realize these corporations run small businesses into the ground and then buy them. I know they force farmers to use their pesticides, fertilizers, seeds—everything. And I know they pay us bottom dollar so they can turn around and sell our produce to the highest bidder. I don’t like that, but it’s reality.”
    “You haven’t described capitalism—that’s a monopoly.”
    “No way. It’s hard-as-steel capitalism. And it’s not evil.”
    Jill felt her ears beginning to heat up again. “How can you say that? You’re a relatively small rancher. It’s not fair—”
    “It’s a game. We all play it. Even your famine-relief friends are playing along. These monster food corporations do their bit for world hunger so they can look good. They have their scientists out there developing special breeds of sheep in one remote corner of the world or eliminating a pest in another. Looking good for the newspapers and TV. Your people go along with it to get their handouts. But it’s all a big, complex game—and no, it’s not fair.”
    “If it’s a game, they ought to know they’re playing with the lives of millions of starving—”
    “What’s that?” Cole cut in. He leaned forward and peered through the windshield at a dark hulk in the distance. “Up ahead on the right side of the road. Do you see it?”
    “Slow down. It’s a car. No, a pickup. Hey, I think it’s Matt!”
    Her heart beating double time, Jill unlatched her seat belt as Cole pulled off the roadway.
    “What color is it?” he demanded. “Is it—no, it’s not Matt’s pickup. It’s…oh, great.”
    Jill saw the large shape emerge from the cab at the same moment Cole had.
    “It’s Billy,” they said in