Caitlin gave them the overview. “We need footage of the boys loading trucks, particularly with anything that comes out of the house. We’ll set up two spots, front and back, then rotate to follow if anyone leaves.”

*   *   *

Armed with one of two professional cameras borrowed from the Daily Student, Aaron parked behind a clump of trees on a service road facing the organic farm. Caitlin, Mary, and Lakshmi drove their vehicles another mile to a public park with a large group of soccer fields, parked, and got out. Kids ages six to fifteen played the game while sidelined parents played games on their phones. Mary, standing by to follow anyone who might leave the farm, set up camp with a canvas chair and a romance novel.

Caitlin left her hybrid and joined Lakshmi in the truck. They drove away from the farm, then turned onto a country road.

Caitlin pointed to a small house on the north side of the street. “That should be the lot directly behind the Bro-duce farm.”

Lakshmi parked in the house’s gravel driveway, then got out and knocked on the front door. A woman in her sixties, in tan pants and a floral print vest over a red blouse, stepped outside. Lakshmi shook the woman’s hand, then gestured toward the land past the house. The woman smiled, even put a hand on Lakshmi’s arm. She glanced back toward Caitlin, waved. Caitlin got out.

Lakshmi handled the introduction. “Carol McGovern, this is my professor. Guess what, Caitlin? Not only is she fine with us looking around, she’s a painter as well.”

Carol shook Caitlin’s hand with a firm, eager grip. “Mostly landscapes, all watercolors, but I can proudly say one of my cardinals hangs in an insurance office in Seymour. What are you working on today?”

“Water,” Caitlin answered. “It looks like a creek winds through the edge of your property.”

“Oh yes, and it’s beautiful, especially in this light. Why don’t I get my paints, and I’ll join you? I can show you the best place to set up.”

She turned toward the house, twenty years younger, but Caitlin couldn’t paint a smiley face. She dropped their cover story and confessed to the sins of journalism.

Carol looked disappointed, but not angry. “So why come to my house?”

Lakshmi answered, “Because we need to spy on the farm behind the creek.”

Carol nodded. “Those boys, huh? Do the police know about this?”

Caitlin knew not to lie. “Not at this time, though I am working with the Bloomington Police Department.”

The woman lowered her voice. “Jerry Greenwood?”

Caitlin laughed. “That’s right, Mrs. McGovern.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

“No, and it’s for his own good that he doesn’t.”

The woman weighed the choice, nodded. “Do you want to tinkle first?”

*   *   *

Caitlin pointed halfway up the tallest tree on the bank. “Plenty of leaf cover, nice strong branches—that’s my spot.”