Page 28 of Where the Fields Don’t Reach

“I don’t understand why you would think my research has anything to do with Chief Langley’s death, though,” Roland inquired, his brows practically touching in displeasure. “I’d never met him before that night.”

A flash of emotion, there and gone, pulled his lips tight.

Not in fear, though.

Anger?

“And what about this past Friday night? Did you have more research to conduct on Mr. Vinton’s property?”

“Of course not,” Roland denied emphatically, frown deepening. His gaze dropped to the new laptop, still seated in its foam. He’d done so multiple times since she’d walked into his office. “I was home on Friday night, working on my book. Are you suggesting that⁠—”

“Your book?” Hadley feigned interest, interrupting him to keep control of the conversation. “Were you conducting research for it last year, Mr. Mercer? Is that why you were on Mr. Vinton’s land?”

Roland didn’t respond right away. Instead, he removed his glasses and worked on a lens with a handkerchief he’d retrieved from his pocket. His gaze cut to the filing cabinet in the corner, then to his office door, which still remained open. She got the sense that he wasn’t comfortable with her question.

What was it about Roland Mercer that had Reed wanting to run something past her?

“Do you believe in the Threshing Man, Chief Dawkins?” Roland asked as he finished cleaning his glasses. He then resettled them on the bridge of his nose before waving a hand, dismissing his own inquiry. “What am I thinking? Of course, you believe. You grew up in Cane County, I presume. The Threshing Man has been my life’s work. You see, there is more to him than meets the eye. He’s fascinating, isn’t he? Moving through those fields for centuries…”

His gaze darted over her shoulder, down the long stretch of hallway. The way he lowered his voice was obviously a prompt for her to lean forward, but she remained relaxed in the chair. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of drawing out her curiosity.

“He isn’t what everyone thinks he is, Chief Dawkins.” Roland placed a hand over his heart. “For centuries, the people of this county have mostly told the story one way. A monster at the edge of the corn. Something that takes. But I have spent the better part of my life learning to read it the other way around, and I am close now. Closer than anyone has ever been.”

The more he spoke and revealed his beliefs, the tighter the tension coiled in the office. Hadley experienced a flicker of déjà vu upon hearing his question, but the way he spun his theory took their interview somewhere else entirely. He truly believed there was a supernatural entity lurking in Cane County.

“Close to what, Mr. Mercer?”

“Proof.” The corner of Roland’s lip turned upward in an awkward smile. “You’ll understand when the book is published for all to read. Everyone will.”

She had interviewed enough people to know when one of them had come to believe their own invention. And sitting across from him, the conviction hardening his features, she understood that Roland fit that description. The pinned map with its overlapping pushpins, the source material in boxes dating back decades, and the way Roland came across as slightly paranoid gave her pause.

A man who grew up on campfire tales and urban legends was one thing. A man who’d staked his career, his whole life, on proving one of them was true was something else. And harder to predict. The skeptics would ridicule him. The believers would egg him on. Either way, he’d have every reason to keep pushing.

What if Reed had discovered something in the field last year?

What if Roland had allowed his paranoia to go one step too far?

“Is there anyone who can verify you were home on Friday night?” Hadley asked, abandoning his need to converse about the Threshing Man. She wanted her questions answered, and he’d deliberately skirted the truth about his reason for being in Vinton’s fields last year. “A family member? Friend? Neighbor?”

Roland stared at her, almost in disbelief. She could hear the woman at the end of the hall laughing, presumably the one on the phone.

“No,” Roland finally admitted, the word coming out grudging and small. “I live alone.”

“Then here’s my problem.” Hadley kept her tone even, so he understood the seriousness of her allegation. “Earl Vinton isn’t too pleased that someone is trespassing on his property again. He requested that I investigate, and seeing as how the former chief of police discovered you on that same property last year, I’m inclined to think you decided to take another look around.”

Roland’s lips parted and shut, a flush climbing out of his collar. Then something cleared in his expression, and he straightened in his chair an inch as if he’d figured out his salvation.

“A colleague called me,” Roland shared before tapping his desk in triumph. “Friday night, at the house. I answered my landline. So he can tell you. He can verify it.”

“And what is this colleague’s name?”

“Knox Hudson. He teaches history here, two doors down from the lecture hall downstairs.” Roland nodded to himself, gaining speed now that he’d found his footing. “We overlap on a number of students. There’s one in particular, a young man, who’s been having a difficult time of it at home this term, and Knox and I have been comparing notes on how to keep him from slipping. Anyway, Knox called me Friday evening about the boy. That’s a fact you can check.”

Hadley would follow up with Knox Hudson, but the alibi was thinner than Roland wanted it to be. A call proved he’d answered, but it didn’t prove a location. A landline could be forwarded to a cell, and the caller would never hear the difference.

“You never answered my earlier question, Mr. Mercer. Why were you in Earl Vinton’s cornfield last year?”

“I told you, Chief Dawkins. Research.” Roland’s irritation came back fast. “Everyone in this county has had the Threshing Man wrong since before either of us was born, and I am going to be the one who proves it.”