Kingdom Come by Jane Jensen

down on your land, usually they’ll leave a piece of it at the door. We had a man leave us a forelimb of venison a few times a year when I was a boy.”
    â€œI see. So the fact that you have that chicken wire strung up across the creek doesn’t stop the hunters?”
    â€œDepends on whether or not they can swim,” he said in that ultra serious tone I was beginning to associate with having my leg tugged ever so skillfully. I refrained from rolling my eyes.
    â€œIn truth, hunters stay on that far side, beyond the fence.” He pointed to the far bank where the woods rose up toward the road and the chicken wire ended up forming a somewhat lazy and lower barrier between the trees. “If they shoot somethin’ inside the fence line, they’ll sure as heck climb over to get it. Or come ’round from the farms if they have to.”
    That made sense. Hunters didn’t have to be
in
the water to shoot—or to become experts on the lay of the land and the waythe animals moved on it. “Right. Do you know anyone who regularly hunts or fishes around here?”
    â€œI’d recognize faces. Can’t say as I know their names.”
    â€œFair enough.” If we ever had a suspect in hand, being recognized by the locals would help. “But doesn’t the chicken wire keep out the deer too?”
    â€œNah. They jump it easy.”
    â€œThen why don’t the horses? Or the mules?”
    â€œYou ask a lot of questions,” he commented with an ironic look. He rubbed his chin. “I suppose a horse could jump it if it was in a passion about it, like if there was a mare in heat on t’other side. But they come down here to drink, and the good grass is behind ’em. They don’t particularly care for chicken wire or woods anyhow.” He shrugged. “It works. That’s good enough for me.”
    â€œOkay.”
    I looked around for a few minutes. Ezra didn’t seem to feel the need to fill the space with chatter; he just waited. By then it was getting so dark, I couldn’t see anyway. We made our way back up the bank, and I slipped in some mud. Ezra grabbed my elbow and pushed me straight up the bank. Damn, he was strong. My heart beat a little faster all the way back to the farmhouse.
    â€œYou look cold. You’re welcome to come in for coffee,” he said as we went through the gate to the driveway.
    I hesitated. I really didn’t have anything else I needed to ask Ezra, but I
was
chilled, and I was pleased that he’d asked me in. It felt . . . good to be with him. He was solid and warm and he made me nervous and a little itchy down deep inside. I knew what that itch was, and knew it was best avoided. Ezra was not for me. Evenif we weren’t from different worlds, even if I was ready to see a man again, he was involved in this case and that was a line you didn’t cross. But it had been a long time since I’d felt anything like this, this hot spark of life. It felt lovely, and I was inclined to indulge it—silently and with absolutely no plan of ever acting on it, of course. For his part, Ezra seemed sincere about wanting me to come in. Maybe he was lonely. Or maybe he was fishing for info. Damn my paranoid cop brain.
    â€œI wouldn’t mind having your sister take a look at that photograph,” I said.
    It was a good enough excuse for us both.
    â€”
    Martha was in the kitchen at the stove when we entered. The piquant smell of ham filled the room and made my stomach rumble.
    â€œHullo,” Martha said, turning to stare at me with big round eyes.
    â€œHi, Martha. How are you?” I asked with a smile.
    â€œGut.” She stared some more. She made me uneasy, I had to admit. I wasn’t sure if I was just a freak show to her—being a female cop, being English—or if she disliked me. Or maybe she was just socially inept.
    â€œHam loaf?” Ezra went to the oven and peeked inside, opening