"You're baiting her."
"Mason Goldman, Eleanor Goldman, Lakyn Monroe. Three people with a whole lot of question marks around them, one of whom has been murdered, and all with direct links to this bank. The bank she manages. Something's going on. Somebody slashed my tires. It might not have been her, but she knows who it was."
"So, what do we do now?" Dean asks.
"We wait."
We sit in silence, but it only takes a few more minutes before the door to the bank opens, and Millie rushes out, adjusting the strap of a large bag over her shoulder. She lowers dark sunglasses over her eyes and scurries to a small blue compact on the other side of the parking lot.
“There we go,” I note.
“Are we following her?” he asks.
I give him a look, and he smiles, cranking the ignition. We wait until Millie has left the parking lot before sliding into place after her. The road is only one way, so we have to hang back to avoid being noticed. We keep just enough distance to be able to see the outline of her car ahead of us.
“Where is she going?” I wonder after we've been following her for fifteen minutes.
“If she's taking her lunch break, she must have a very specific craving,” Dean says.
“Somehow, I don't think there's a salad at the end of this,” I say.
Just then, Millie's car turns down a narrow dirt road and stops.
"Shit," Dean mutters, turning the wheel sharply, so we skid off the road into a field.
"Way to go with the quick thinking," I remark.
"She stopped. What was I supposed to do?" he asks.
"Drive past her. She's pointed the other way," I say. The sound of another car catches my attention. "I think someone just met her."
I unhook my seatbelt.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to try to see what's going on. We can't exactly drive past them now."
I open the door carefully and softly push on it until it latches before turning to walk quietly into the tall crops. They look like wheat, but I can't be sure. Dean follows behind me, and I gesture for him to go slowly. I hear two car doors open and close, and voices not far ahead.
"I'm doing everything I can," Millie says.
"It's not enough. Didn't you learn anything last year?" a man asks.
"Don't talk about that," she replies.
I get closer and push aside some of the plants. My position puts me behind Millie's car, so I'm looking down the road toward her. She's standing with her back to me, and a heavyset man in a dark suit stands uncomfortably close to her.
"We thought you understood why this is so important," he glowers.
"I do understand. It'll get taken care of. It isn't always as easy as you want it to be."
"That's why we have you do it, Millie. Figure it out."
I step back, and my foot tangles in dried weeds and grass, making me stumble and drop to one knee.
"What was that?" Millie asks in a lowered tone.
"Did you bring someone here?"
"No," she says quickly.
"Did someone follow you?"
"No," she repeats adamantly.
Dean grabs me and pulls me to my feet.
"Someone is here," the man says. His voice is louder as he comes down the road. I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.
"Go," I whisper harshly to Dean. "Go!"
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dean and I run deeper into the field in the opposite direction of the car. Our movements make the plants sway and bend, so when we've gotten a few yards away from the road, I grab onto Dean and yank him down to the dirt. I hold one finger over my mouth to quiet him.
"You said no one followed you," the man growls angrily.
“Nobody did,” Millie replies. “I walked out of the bank and drove here. Who's going to follow me?”
“Then whose car is this?” he snaps.
“I don't know. Obviously, it drove off the road. Whoever it is must have either called somebody to come get them or gotten out and walked away. Why would I have someone follow me out here?" Millie asks.
She's obviously fighting for control of her voice, but it's staying surprisingly steady despite what I can only imagine is fear. This isn't a friendly meeting. I keep my right hand resting on my gun and the left pressed to the ground so I can get up quickly if I have to. There are a few seconds of silence. Everything seems to hang still, waiting for whatever is going to happen next.
“Get it taken care of,” the man finally says. His footsteps are heavy as they walk away from the car.
“I will,” Millie responds.
A few seconds later, one car door closes, and an engine roars, then disappears into the distance. There's another stretch of silence before the second car drives away. Dean and I stand up and look at each other.
“What do you think that was about?” he asks.
“I have no idea. But it wasn't good, whatever it was. Come on, let's get out of here,” I say. I look around as we walk back to the car. “What is this place, anyway?”
“I think it's part of the old fairgrounds,” he says. “It's not really used for much anymore, as far as I know. Last year there was a corn maze on the other side. I think there were some fall activities and things. But the rest of it's abandoned.”
"If it's abandoned, who runs those activities?" I ask as we get back to the car.
"I don't know," he says.
"Let's find out."
Dean looks at me strangely as we climb into the car. "Why does it matter?"
"It's an interesting place to meet. Rather than going into town, they came all the way out here, and happened to stop right at this place."
"Like you said, that meeting didn't exactly seem friendly. Maybe they came out here for the
