Crops and Robbers by Paige Shelton

hadn’t crossed my mind. Her fingerprints on the knife weren’t a good sign, but I knew she wouldn’t be found guilty. The killer had seen her at my farm and taken the opportunity to frame her. At least I hoped that was what happened.
    But, and my stomach roiled at the thought I let trickle into my consciousness, what if she was guilty?
    “NO!” I said aloud as I hit my steering wheel.
    Mom was not guilty. It had to be that simple. Everything else would follow, I assured myself. I took ten deep breaths and forced my shoulders to relax away the tension that made them seem like they were scrunched to my ears.
    At first, the police car in my driveway threatened my vow of clearheaded calmness. What had happened now? But then I saw Sam on my front porch, in his civilian clothes. He must have changed right after taking my mom to jail. He wasn’t here on official business and there were no other officers around, so I presumed I wasn’t now under arrest, and that my farm wasn’t the scene of a new crime.
    “Sam?” I said as I got out of the truck. He got up and met me halfway. He wore a faded blue T-shirt and some old jeans. His hair was loose from its slicked-back work mode. I always wondered if he disheveled it himself or if it automatically looked more casual when he took off his uniform.
    “Becca, hey,” he said as he stopped in front of me.
    “Is my mom okay?”
    “Fine, fine. Your Dad is staying with her. I pulled some strings, and unless we have a run on criminal activity, he can stay in the next cell, unlocked.”
    “That was nice and probably difficult to pull off. Thank you.” Any anger I might have felt toward Sam was dissipating. He was doing his job and probably breaking rules for the sake of my mother’s comfort. It was hard for me to separate the friend Sam from the police officer Sam; I needed to remember that it was probably hard for him, too.
    He nodded and then looked out toward my pumpkins. He didn’t say anything.
    “What, Sam? Why are you here?”
    He looked back at me, his eyes softer now. “I know this is horrible for you and Allison. I’m sorry I had to arrest your mom.”
    “I know you are, and don’t get me wrong, it stinks, but I’m not mad at you, well, not anymore. Allison and I know she’s innocent. We’ll . . . we know you’ll find the real killer.”
    “I will. I’d like to know what your plans are regarding the investigation. Don’t lie, just tell me. I’d like to know and maybe I can stop you from heading in a direction I’m already looking or in a direction that I know might be dangerous.” Gone were his threats of arresting me for butting in where I shouldn’t. He knew they would be more pointless than ever since my mother was involved.
    “Ian and I are going to Bistro tonight for dinner, just to check it out.”
    “They’re open?” he said.
    “According to the gentleman who answered the phone, business is booming and Joan wouldn’t want them to close for something so silly as her death.”
    Sam nodded, his forehead wrinkling in thought.
    “You want to go with us? I’m sure they could make it a table for three?” I said as I pulled out my phone.
    “No, no, that’s all right,” he said. “Third wheel and all.”
    “Sam, both Ian and I would love to have you join us.”
    “It’s fine, some other time, but thanks. However, I was hoping you’d be okay with me taking another look around your property. I’m not here officially, Becca. This is just my curiosity.”
    “Sure. Can I look around with you?”
    “Of course.”
    I had about half an hour before I needed to shower to be presentable for my mom and then dinner with Ian. I was glad Sam was there. I had wondered what it would be like to pull into my driveway again, especially with no one else home. Had Sam been concerned about the same thing? Maybe he was really there to help me deal with the fact that I now owned a home where a murder had been committed.
    He helped me unload the leftover inventory