Candace Carrabus - Dreamhorse 01 - On the Buckle (35 page)

“How long does it take to get to Chicago by car?”

“From St. Louis, about five hours, but at the rate he’s driving…”

“And how long until you get there?”

“I’m booked on a six-thirty-five flight. I’ll get there at about the same time as him, and I’ll turn on my phone the moment I land—at seven thirty-five. Now, I have to go, or I’m going to miss the flight.”

I held up the gun. “Are you going unarmed?”

“Not on your life. I have plenty more where that came from.”

Figures.
 

“I have a message for you from Malcolm,” he said. “Be careful.”

Not what I wanted to hear.
 

“Wait,” I said. I slid out of bed and found my purse, dug through it until I had the tape. “Do you have a recorder that plays one of these?”

He took the tape. “At home, why?”

“I found it under the manure spreader.”

He gave me a “so what” look.

“Another dream. Not about the tape, but about looking for something, kind of like with the bones. And that’s what I found. I think Norman might have had it on him. It could be what JJ was looking for when he broke in here.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I don’t know. It could be nothing. The dreams are jumbled and confusing. I tried to find something to listen to it with. I’m only just beginning to understand.”
Understand
being an overstatement. “I never had any before I came here.”

“You never dreamed?”

“If I did, I never remembered them.”

“Never?”

“Do we have time for this conversation?”

He shoved the tape in his shirt pocket. “No.” He turned.

“Dex?”

“I’ll tell him.”
 

“You’ll tell him what?”

“What I see in your eyes.”

Holy crap. The moment he left, I ran in the bathroom to see, but all that peered back at me was worry. Next stop, the refrigerator for a generous dose of chocolate whipped cream. Only one can left. It wouldn’t be enough. I kept it with me.

I tidied the apartment, did a load of wash, took care of the horses. The sun came up, but the sky was gloomy and the air heavy—just like my mood—and it remained dim and uninviting outside. The kind of day that would frizz my hair into a rat’s nest. A wind came up with the sun, and it tore at the trees. The horses turned their tails to it.
 

So, it was all JJ, not Brooke. I had a hard time believing she wasn’t involved, but I couldn’t imagine what it had been like to have her daughter kidnapped before her eyes. She must be beyond frantic. Malcolm would comfort her.

Stop it, Parker
.

But what did JJ want? He wanted to ruin Malcolm. Was there some way for JJ to get the farm? Or did he simply think, in his small, angry brain, there was some way he could get the farm?

No, he didn’t want to ruin Malcolm. He wanted him dead. JJ probably cut the brake lines on the SUV. Hank had said he was a fair mechanic.

I went from one task to another, never completing what was in front of me before moving on. Both downstairs and upstairs bathrooms gleamed, and it was barely six-o‘clock. Dex called right before he boarded his plane to say he’d heard nothing on the tape so far, but he was only halfway through one side. He’d keep listening and let me know if anything turned up.

To say I was at loose ends didn’t begin to touch what I felt. I’d gone numb, just like after we’d found Norman.
 

I sat, but every time I did, my leg started jouncing. I tried reading, keeping the book firmly pressed against my restless knee, but kept reading the same paragraph without seeing it. I looked at the clock. It never moved more than a minute. I stole a peek at the gun, then darted an apologetic glance to Willy. I’d said I’d go to Hank and Clara’s, but it promised to be a long day, and I didn’t want to go over there any earlier than necessary. I decided to call Penny. She was an early riser, and it was an hour later there.

My phone was still plugged into the charger. When I turned it on, it beeped and said I had three missed calls and three new messages. I sat at the kitchen table with my whipped cream and pressed the preset for voice mail.

The first was Malcolm from the night before. “Vi?” he said. “Sorry I ran off and left you this morning. I know Dex filled you in on what’s happening here. I’ll talk to you later.” The second was him again at three something that morning. First, there was a moment of silence, like he was trying to decide what to say. “Vi. I…just wanted to hear your voice.”

In the first message, he sounded tired. But in the second, the strain and worry in his tone was almost too much to bear.

The number of the third call looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I’d just filled my mouth with creamy chocolate when Nicky’s voice spilled out of my phone.

- 39 -

“I’m scared. No one’s answering the phone. It’s dark. I need help.” She sniffed and hung up.

I went to the sink and spit out the whipped cream, then sat and stared at the phone. The time on the call was no more than twenty minutes earlier, but it was still over an hour before I could get Dex. More than that for Malcolm, because he’d have to charge his phone before he could receive a call.

Maybe he’d picked up a charger. Unlikely at that time of night. Less likely he’d take the time. I dialed his number anyway. His phone wasn’t available. Dex, same thing.
 

With the volume on maximum, I forced myself to listen to Nicky’s message again. There was no background noise. Nothing to place her in a car or near a busy street. Just quiet.

I figured out how to put on the gun holster, went downstairs, and paced around the tack room for a few minutes, flexing my shoulders against the unfamiliar restraint and weight of the gun. Should I call her? Was someone with her? Did she still have her phone? Would she be able to answer? If I could figure out where she was… She must be so afraid. My head felt like it might explode trying to figure out what to do.

When Dex had wakened me, he’d brought me out of a deep sleep. I’d been so rattled by what he’d said, I’d forgotten my dreams. Wastrel and I had been on Long Island in familiar fields and stables. Malcolm was there, and maybe Dex. Hard to say. The images came and went like a slide show on high speed. JJ’s trailer might have been in the mix. But mostly, it was Wastrel and Malcolm and Long Island. That, I supposed, was the right place for Wastrel, but why would Malcolm be there? Was he supposed to be in New York? That didn’t make sense.

Circling the loveseat in the tack room with Noire’s eyes following my every move was doing nothing to clarify the situation, so I went to the field, haltered Gaston, brought him in, and began grooming him.

There’s nothing like the rhythm of grooming to settle my nerves. He was still shedding his winter coat, so the job was especially satisfying. I started behind one of his ears with the currycomb and made small, firm circles to loosen dirt and sweat, then used the brush in the direction the coat grew to flick away dust and hair and smooth everything down. Three circles, three sweeps of the brush, move to the next section. Curry, curry, curry, brush, brush, brush.

Halfway along his near side, it hit me.
 

Malcolm was in the wrong place.
 

It was not quite seven. I tried both Malcolm and Dex, anyway. Neither phones available, couldn’t even leave a message.

Had to chance it. I dialed Nicky and held my breath.

I was about to hang up, when, “Hello?” she whispered.

With my voice low, too, I said, “It’s Vi. Thank God you’re all right. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” She started to cry.

“Nicky. Nicky. Listen. You’ve got to help me find you. Your father is going to be there soon, I promise. Everything will be all right, but you’ve got to calm down, sweetie. Okay?”

She sniffed. “Okay.”

“Are you alone?”

“There’s nobody in this room with me.”

“Good. Just hang up if you hear someone coming. We’re going to play a little game, okay? It’s called Detective.” I was completely out of my league and winging it. But I had to get information out of her.

“Detective?”

“Yeah, that’s where I ask you a bunch of questions, and you try to answer as many as you can. And you get…whipped cream. A squirt for each right answer. I’ll keep track.”

“Okay.” She sounded a little more cheerful.

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“I can’t see anything.”

Crap. “Are you blindfolded?”

“No, but it’s dark. And it smells.”

Jesus. What sort of nasty place had he put her? I paced a short and edgy path back and forth behind Gaston. What could I ask that would help?
Think
. “Nicky, are you in a room?”

“Um-hm. On a bed.”

“Okay. Good. That’s great. Has anyone hurt you?”

“No. He…”

“Is it JJ?”

“Yes. He gave me some medicine. He said it would help me. We were in a car. I think I slept. I woke up here. My foot is tied to something so I can’t get up.”

Double crap. She could have been asleep for hours. They could be anywhere. “That’s okay. You already have…um…half a can of whipped cream. Is there anyone else there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“You haven’t seen anyone or heard JJ talking to anyone?”

“I can’t see anything.” Her voice rose. “I told you. It’s dark.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” I said in the tone I used to soothe upset horses. “I know. You’re very brave. Do you think he’s nearby now? I don’t want him to hear us talk.”

“I don’t think so. I heard a car. I think he left.” She started to cry again.

If she could hear him drive away, but it was otherwise quiet, then she must be in a house, not an apartment in a city.
 

“It’s okay to be scared. But you’re going to be okay.” I tried to think what made me feel better when I was scared. “Remember the kittens? Imagine they’re with you. All purry and soft. They need you to pet them. They miss you. Can you imagine petting them?”

“Yeah.” She almost giggled. “They’re licking my face.”

“Great. That’s great. Now, listen. Look around and tell me if you can see even the tiniest bit of light, like a crack under the door or maybe a window. Sit up, if that helps, and put the phone down. Can you do that for me?”

The more information I could give Malcolm and Dex, the better. If all I accomplished was to keep her distracted for a while, that was something.

She said to hold on. My heart forced the blood through my head so hard, it hurt my ears. I could hear the bed squeak as she moved around.

“There’s a door and two windows. But the windows have something over them. Like wood, or something.”

“Good. Oh, that’s really good, Nicky. Now you have a whole can of whipped cream all to yourself. You think you want plain or chocolate?”

“Both.”

“We can do that. By any chance, can you reach one of the windows?”

“Maybe. Yeah. I can reach the one over the bed.”

“See if you can pull at the wood, okay? Use both hands. Pull the wood away and tell me what you see.”

Again, the bed creaked. A bit of scrabbling and a few little-girl grunts, then a loud crack and a startled, “Ow!”

“Nicky? Are you okay?”

She picked up the phone, sounding breathless. “It broke. I scraped my knuckles. I didn’t mean to break it.”

“That’s no problem. The important thing is you’re okay. You’ve just earned a bonus can of whipped cream. You want to keep playing?”

“Yes!”

“Good girl. Can you see through the window?”

“No.”

Oh, for cripe’s sake. Come on. “Nothing at all?”

“There’s something over the window. Like a curtain.”

“Can you push it to the side?”

I heard her scraping at something.

“It’s stuck. Like somebody glued it. Why would somebody glue up their window? That’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Stupid.” Maybe it wasn’t a curtain. Maybe it was a window decal or tinting. “Is it dark, like a grayish color?”

“Not really. It’s more like reddish-purplish with blue stripes.”

Stripes? “What else?”

“I can’t see the whole thing. There’s a red triangle and then blue and maybe stars in the blue part. I’m not sure.”

I closed my eyes and tried to fit that into a pattern I knew.
 

“Vi, I’m thirsty.”

“You’ve been working very hard, but there’s still more to do. Nicky, I need you to listen very carefully.”

- 40 -

She begged me not to leave her. Disconnecting was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Before we hung up, I told her to work on getting herself untied. I’d be there soon.

She was at JJ’s trailer.

If I were wrong, the worst thing that would happen would be I’d have a good gallop. I strapped the biggest western saddle I could find on Gaston and made the stirrups as short as possible, hoping Nicky’s legs would reach. I threw his bridle over his halter. Just like the cavalry.