After lunch, we go to the feed store. They got another batch of baby chicks in, and this time it’s Ethan insisting we should get another few. Ours aren’t that old yet and we can easily get the two groups to get along. We leave with a box full of too many peeping yellow fluffballs , and make it home just in time for Ethan to change and head into work. I’m sitting in the kitchen, looking at ideas for large chicken coops on my phone when Hunter alerts me that an unknown car is pulling down the driveway.
I get up, leaving my phone on the counter and go to the foyer.
“There’s a police officer,” I call to Ethan, immediately thinking something bad happened to his family and the police are here to deliver the news. Ethan hurries down the stairs, opening the front door before the doorbell is even rung.
It’s not one cop, but two, and one of them is holding a piece of paper.
“Ethan Bailey,” one officer says.
“Yeah?” Ethan steps onto the porch and the officer reaches for his cuffs.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Patrick Malic.”