Cindy Powell uses detective work that she learned from her father as a young girl in her job as a real estate mogul Benson Easton's assistant. Benson needs to know every detail about an associate before doing business with them. It's Cindy who digs...
"You can keep me safe better than I could keep myself; that's why I lost myself in you." So Nu
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As my dad stands there with an envelope addressed to me, he moves into detective mode. He even reaches for a sidearm that's not there and looks around for any clues. I watch as my dad takes in every detail of his surroundings.
He looks down at the dirt road that begins my dad's lane to the farmhouse. "Fresh tire tracks," he mumbles to himself.
He looks up at me. "Cindy, go get several of my large red feed buckets and bring them back here. I want to preserve these tracks to get cast."
I nod before turning and running towards his large shed, where he keeps his supplies. Once there, I quickly find the buckets. I grab four of them and rush back to my dad.
I hand him the buckets, and he places them around the tire tracks. I saw that he had opened the note.
Trying to catch my breath, I ask, "What does it say?"
He hands it to me. I open it and read the threat.
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You will regret ignoring my warning.
I'm puzzled. "They must have followed me here. I thought that I was careful. I paid close attention to every car around me. I didn't see one car that stayed on my tail."
Dad carefully moves away from the tracks and steps towards me. "I think that I know how they did this without revealing themselves. Come on. We need to get back to your car."
As soon as he mentioned my car, I knew what he was thinking. He believes that someone put a GPS tracker on my vehicle.
Once we get to where my car is parked, my dad and I get on our hands and knees, inspecting underneath it.
"Bingo!" Dad stands up at the back bumper, holding up the tracking device. He grins proudly at his discovery.
"Come, let's get you inside. I don't feel safe out here in the open."
He takes my hand and drags me inside.
"Damn, Dad," I complain.
Dad apologetically smiles and releases my hand. "I'm sorry, Dee. I'll try not to be too overbearing. I need to protect you. That's what Fathers do. Okay?"
