run free.”
He eyed her again in the mirror. “We do, but like I said, we aren’t breeders. I don’t have anything against the folks around here who raise chickens for profit. It’s an important industry in this state. A lot of people depend on the income from their broilers, including Sam Jonas.”
Was he going to keep intimidating her with the name Sam Jonas? She knew she was in trouble. And did Boone actually admire Jonas’s approach to raising chickens? It wasn’t her place to educate this cop about ethical treatment, especially when she wanted to make a good impression on him. But she’d never been one to play it safe when simple human decency was involved.
She cleared her throat. “I understand that raising chickens is a big industry in this state, but you have to agree that the way those birds were being transported back there was in no way humane. Besides being crammed into crates so tight they couldn’t even spread their wings, the chickens had no protection against the elements.”
Boone looked up through his windshield. “Susannah, it’s sunny and seventy-five degrees today. I don’t think any chickens suffered from frostbite.”
“Have you ever been to a chicken farm, Boone?”
“Of course. It’s not pleasant, but the majority of poultry is raised for human consumption. The birds have very short life spans, so comfort isn’t the main concern for the breeders.”
“I’m not talking about comfort. I’m talking about conditions that border on extreme cruelty.” She was preaching again and toned down her approach with unemotional facts. “Did you know that chickens are the only animals not protected by ethical treatment laws? From the time a chick is born, it never sees the sun. It’s drugged and overfed and lives in filth in cramped quarters. That might not be so bad except the only contact they have with humans is when the catchers come to grab them by one leg to stick them in another even more cramped crate for transport to slaughter.”
She checked the rearview mirror and tried to find at least a hint of compassion in Boone’s eyes, but his features were hidden in shadow. “How would you like to be held upside down by one leg by a creature twenty times your size?” she added.
He glanced over the seat at her. “I think we ought to keep this discussion within the realm of reality.”
“Okay, fine. But here’s another fact for you. By the time the chickens arrive at their destination, nearly half are already dead from exposure or stress.”
“Really?” Boone rubbed his hand over his chin. “Makes me glad I wasn’t born a chicken.”
She gulped back a gasp. “Is this a joke to you?”
“I’m a country fella, Susannah. I see lots of chickens. I eat lots of chickens.” He wrinkled his nose. “Lately I’ve smelled lots of chickens. I don’t spend a whole lot of time worrying about their living quarters.”
“Or anything else that is medieval about our treatment of farm animals,” she said under her breath.
“What’s that?”
“I said I need to use my cell phone. Can I take it out of my purse, please? I’d like to call my father.” She figured he would allow a call to the governor, but she was lying about liking to make it. Dreading was the more appropriate word.
Boone stopped at one of the four traffic lights in Mount Union. He turned ninety degrees to see her clearly. Oh, yes, she remembered that face. Remembered it very well.
“I think that’s a good idea,” he said. “You’re going to need the governor’s help. You won’t find too many people in this town who are sympathetic to your version of this incident.”
Including the governor. Susannah had no doubt that Boone was right. Mount Union, Georgia, had never been a center of environmental progress or fair breeding and farming techniques. Here, farming was carried out the way it always had been, with farmers using the cheapest or most efficient methods to ensure the highest profit. And because Boone Braddock was as much a product of the region as those chickens back there, Susannah didn’t expect any sympathy from him. Still, he had that nice smile she’d never quite forgotten...
And he’d been fair with her. She had broken the law, she supposed, though she’d upheld principles that should be important to everyone. Plus, she hadn’t counted on being caught. She was practically a stranger in this area, so she hadn’t been worried about being recognized. She would have gotten away with “The Great Escape Caper” too, if some passing motorist hadn’t called in the accident. She could have freed the chicks and jumped in her Suburban before the truck driver had the presence of mind to write down her license plate number.
“Just so you know,” she said. “I didn’t come here to rescue chickens.”
“Gosh, I’d hate to think what you’d do if you really were involved in rescuing something.”
Ignoring his jibe, she said, “I am involved in a cause, though. I came to manage my father’s campaign in this part of the state. He thinks I can be a big help in his reelection.”
Boone’s eyes widened. “You could be, I suppose. But then he doesn’t know about your interference in chicken transport yet.”
Susannah cringed. Her father was going to be furious with her. Because her father never tried to change anything about farming techniques, except for maybe getting more revenue from the federal government, the local farmers had overwhelmingly supported him in the last election, and now she’d royally pissed one off. Ironically, she really was here to help his campaign, though that was a secondary goal. Albee Rhodes was a good man and wanted the best for Georgians, maybe not in the same way that Susannah did, but he was every bit as sincere with his intentions.
“I promise I’ll try to stay out of the business of local breeders while I’m here.”
He smiled. “I think that’s a good idea and the best method to ensure that Governor Rhodes gets the most votes.”
“But you’re still taking me to jail?”
“’Fraid so. In fact, if you don’t remember, it’s that brick building on the left just ahead.”
She drew a fortifying breath and punched her father’s private cell number into her phone before she sat back and cupped her hand over her mouth. She didn’t want Boone to overhear her conversation and think she was the type of princess who would call on daddy to get her out of trouble. If she had any other option today, she wouldn’t be making this call. She wasn’t a princess, but darn it, she just didn’t have time to sit in a jail cell right now. Her truck was full of supplies and more were coming. She needed to negotiate a land purchase, and she needed to do it now. Her partners were depending on her.
* * *
LILA MENENDEZ WAS seated at her desk when Boone escorted Susannah into the station. He could do nothing to avoid the familiar smirk on Lila’s face. He gave her a warning look and she wisely pretended to be interested in some paperwork.
Boone showed Susannah to the ladies’ room and, according to standard procedure, posted a guard outside the door. Then he went to the squad room to begin the report.
“We don’t get too many serious criminals in this town,” Lila said when he’d taken his seat behind the desk. “How many casualties
