False Prophet (22 page)

Lilah might know his home phone number, but she certainly didn’t know jack about his hobbies — all six of them sitting in his own stable. He wasn’t about to tell her anything personal. Slipping his hands in his pocket, he thought: no problem,
amiga
. He could play the slick as easily as the hick.

“I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion, Miss Brecht.”

She smiled seductively. “You know, Peter, I’ve noticed that when you get nervous, you call me Miss Brecht. Don’t worry so much.”

Outwardly, Decker was impassive, but internally he was wired — angry and sexually charged at the same time. He felt like a jerk but couldn’t turn around and walk away without losing face.

Just cut the losses, Deck. Ride the damn horse and get out of her way.

“I’ve got about forty-five minutes, Lilah. You want to spend it riding, it’s fine with me. But I’m not coming out here again.”

“Oh, yes, the
ground
rules.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, ran her fingers over her cheeks. “I tried to cover the… bruises with makeup. Can you tell?”

Decker appraised her beautiful face and told her she looked fine. Which was the truth. There was still some bluing underneath her eyes. Other than that, she appeared good enough for the cover of
Vogue
… or
Playboy
. He felt his face go hot. If she noticed his embarrassment, she didn’t remark on it.

Lilah said, “Carl, saddle up High Time for Sergeant Decker.”

“Which one’s that?” Decker asked.

“The Appaloosa. The spotted horse, Peter. You’d better take your jacket off. It’s hot. You can ride shirtless if you want.”

“No, thanks.”

“That’s right, you’re a redhead. You’ll burn rather than tan. I don’t see why Mother pictured you as a cowboy. Redheads can’t be cowboys.”

“Your mother told you about our little chat?”

“No. Just that she thought you’d make a marvelous cowboy. Much better than a detective. Frankly, I don’t see you as either one.”

Decker shrugged and looked away. He took his jacket off and draped it over a saddle peg, watching Totes throw a western saddle on High Time. Totes’s face wasn’t registering any hostility; it wasn’t registering much of anything. He was just doing his job with trained efficiency. When the stable hand was done, Decker walked over to the horse and eyed him carefully.

“She doesn’t bite, Peter,” Lilah said. “Just don’t sneak up behind her.” She turned to Totes. “Carl, walk High Time out and show Sergeant Decker how to mount.”

His mounting was fine, thank you very much. But he followed Totes out and didn’t say anything.

Totes touched the stirrup. “Put one foot in here. Then put your other leg all the way over the horse and just set up. You don’t gotta do nothin’ else but set. You ken hold the reins but don’t go pullin’ on them. Horse’ll follow the Miss. You start pullin’ the reins, you gonna confuse her.”

“Got it,” Decker said.

Totes walked away unceremoniously. Decker mounted as the horse stood passively, her tail swatting at flies. Lilah came up to his left. He noticed she seemed tight and asked her if she was in pain. She told him she was much better — at least physically — tugged on High Time’s bit and the two of them were off. She rode sans saddle, sitting on some kind of Indian blanket.

Immediately, he felt the sun burning down on his scalp. Sweat filled his brow, his cheeks, and his armpits. The sky was smogless blue, the air stagnant and filled with flies and gnats and other things that buzzed. The mountaintops seemed to shimmer in the heat. About a minute into the ride, he realized he was actually grateful for this turn of events. Riding not only made him feel good, it made him feel in control.

Lilah said, “Thank you for accommodating me.”

“This one time.”

“Ye olde ground rules.” Lilah lowered her head. “I’m sorry if I upset your wife.”

Decker didn’t answer her. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and took out a pen and notepad.

“I don’t believe it!” Lilah said. “You can’t take
notes
and ride at the same time.”

“Hey, Carl said I wasn’t supposed to do anything except sit on the horse. Besides, I’ve got an excellent sense of balance.”

“Your writing is going to look like scribbling.”

“It does anyway.”

“Don’t you ever stop working?”

“Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” Decker said.

Lilah slowed. “Can you give me a minute to work up to it?”

Decker looked at his watch. “We’re down to thirty-five minutes, Lilah.”

“You’re
impossible
!”

“Why aren’t you riding with a saddle?”

She turned and gave him a closed-mouth smile. “I like the connection with my animals… the feeling of their muscles working.”

Decker didn’t react. He never rode bareback, believing that even the most docile of horses were still animals. Saddles gave the needed support in rare emergencies.

They rode another five minutes without speaking. Her ranch was much bigger than he had remembered. Or maybe he just hadn’t seen the whole spread. Like his, it was backed by the San Gabriel Mountains, but she had much more. A dusty path divided the property into halves, the trail disappearing into a thick copse of eucalyptus trees about three hundred feet ahead. On his immediate right were the fruit groves, behind them another structure that could have been a guesthouse. On the left was the garden — at least an acre’s worth of leafy vegetation.

“That’s one heck of a plot,” Decker said.

“I use it commercially.”

“How so?”

“Every single fruit and vegetable served at the spa is grown in that garden or in one of my greenhouses. It’s the only way to get quality control.”

“I don’t see any greenhouses.”

“They’re not the large prefab ones. I’ve several small greenhouses tucked into sunny locations. All of them are climate-controlled and pesticide-free. I grow out-of-season and exotic vegetables — just a few to tease the palate. Give my guests something memorable. I also grow tropical flowers — mainly orchids and bromeliads. They make lovely table settings for the spa’s dining room.”

“You’ve got a regular wholesale nursery here.”

“My clientele has come to expect a certain style.”

“It seems like an awful lot of vegetables for the spa’s kitchen.”

“Nothing goes to waste.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

“Well, that was a nice diversion,” Decker said. “You want to tell me what’s on your mind? We’re down to twenty minutes.”

“Don’t push me.”

“Up to you—”

“Stop it!” she screamed. “Stop it!
Stop it
!”

More silence. The hum in the air suddenly seemed magnified until Apollo brayed and reared.

“What’s wrong with him?” Decker asked.

“It’s nothing.” Lilah pulled back and forth on the reins. “My shouting upset him. He’s very sensitive.”

She brought the horse under control.

“What did you want to tell me, Lilah?” Decker said.

“I’m too upset.”

“Lilah, I haven’t got all day. If you feel I’m pushing you, I’ll call it quits right now.”

“Have it your way!” she said. “Call it quits!”

Peachy, he thought. What a colossal waste of time. He yanked on the reins and turned the horse in the direction of the stable. He kicked the Appaloosa’s flanks and High Time broke into a canter. This time, Lilah followed him.

“You know how to
ride
!”

Decker didn’t answer.

“Why did you play stupid if you knew how to ride?”

“How about if I ask the questions, Miss Brecht?” He broke away from her and with a swift set of pulls on the reins forced the animal to reverse directions, racing toward the eucalyptus grove. Galloping along the shaded trails, he wove among tree trunks as if he were barrel racing. Lilah tried to follow him. Apollo was quick — no doubt the animal was stock palomino — but she simply wasn’t skilled enough to keep up with him. He left her behind in a mist of dust. High Time rounded each bend as if she had power steering — a horse Decker wouldn’t have minded owning. A few minutes later, he slowed and waited for Lilah to catch up with him. He sat back and breathed in the scent of menthol.

“You’re
great
!” she said, breathlessly.

“Might as well get a decent ride out of this trip.”

Apollo reared again, stretching his forelegs so high he was almost vertical.

“Lean forward, Lilah—”

“I know how to handle my own horse!”

But her voice was shaky. The palomino continued to balance on his hind legs, kicking the branches of the tall trees as he protested.

“You’re still too upright. You’re going to fall backward.”

“I’m trying. It’s not that easy bareback.”

“Use your thighs,” Decker instructed. “Squeeze as hard as you can.”

“I’m doing that!”

“Now tighten the reins and give him a kick in the flanks. That should send him forward.”

“I’m trying, dammit! He’s being obstinate!”

Decker stood on his stirrups, edged High Time closer to the agitated horse, dodging steel-hooved punches. Lilah managed to maintain balance, as Decker squeezed in front of the animal. He leaned over, grabbed Apollo’s bit and gave it a sharp tug, forcing the horse forward. Finally settling on all fours, Apollo kicked up dirt and leaves, then paced in circles. Lilah took the reins and once again brought him under control.

“He’s really upset about something,” Decker said. “Let’s go back.”

“I’m ready to talk to you now.”

“Make it quick. I don’t like the way your horse is acting.”

“He senses my anxiety.”

“Then let’s switch horses. I’m not anxious.”

“He’ll be fine. Better than
I’ll
be. You see, all last night and every waking minute today, I… I’ve had this dreadful sense that something terrible is going to happen. Something even more horrible than what has already happened. I’m scared out of my wits.”

“Lilah, I know you’re not going to believe this, but it’s normal to feel that way. There’d be something wrong with you if you didn’t feel frightened.”

“No, no, it’s not ordinary fear, Peter. I know because I feel that, too. This… this psychic communication is something different. A prophecy. I am a prophetess and am capable of receiving deep, underworld vibrations. They’re straight out of hell. It’s just horrifying!” She started to tremble. “Don’t you see? It’s a
warning
! Somehow,
you
must protect me against these demons!”

Had the rape terrified her to the point of hallucinations? Decker had seen assaults drive normal people literally out of their minds. Lilah was acting like one of them.

“Lilah, I’m going to work really hard to solve your case, but I can’t help you ward off your individual demons. If you think someone’s out to get you — and I can’t say I blame you for feeling that way — hire a bodyguard. Your mother probably knows someone. If not, I’ll give you a recommendation.”

“You don’t
understand
,” she implored.

“Lilah—”

“It’s bad
karma
!” Tears streamed down her cheek. “A terrifying sense of
doom
! Someone
is
out to get me, Peter. The theft was more than a desire to steal my father’s memoirs. It was a desire to rip away everything dear to me. It’s a personal vendetta against
me
!”

“That’s why a bodyguard—”

“No, it won’t help. Someone’s going to come back and finish me off! My powers tell me this as fact! I’m so
frightened
!”

Apollo reared up once again, forelegs stretching toward the sun. For a moment, he did a two-foot foxtrot, flanks speckled by beams streaking through the branches, hundreds of golden dots bouncing off his honey-colored coat. Then a thousand pounds’ worth of weight came crashing down — dirt, twigs, and leaves spewing in their faces.

The palomino reared and reared again. Lilah had turned ghastly white as she attempted to hold on. Decker inched closer, but powerful, flailing limbs acted as an effective barrier. Apollo’s last motion was a perfect capriole as the horse leaped into the air, hind legs extended, pushing forward, forelegs tucked under.

He landed clumsily, momentarily losing his footing as his left hind leg caught on a surface tree root, stumbling but not falling. Lilah’s arms encircled the animal’s throat, her grip loosening with each jerk of the horse’s head. She had slid up toward his neck and was sitting on the horse’s withers. The blanket on his back had tumbled to the ground. Decker moved High Time closer, his extended arm within inches of Apollo’s reins. Just as he was about to grab them, Apollo bolted.

Decker dug into High Time’s belly and pushed forward at full speed, leaning his body horizontal to the ground, cursing as he maneuvered the Appaloosa around the trees, feeling the razor’s edge of low-lying boughs abrade his back. Adrenaline shot through his body, his heart hammering against his chest, his hands shaking. But he was steady enough to guide his horse at strategic moments — a skill that avoided turning him into jelly.

Apollo was charging as if possessed, racing erratically through the trees, clearing branches and dense trunks by inches, tearing forth beyond his normal capacity. Several times, the horse jumped forward for no reason, nearly decapitating Lilah with a bough. She held tightly, hair flying through the jet stream. Decker forced High Time faster, masses of grit filling his mouth and eyes. He spit, rubbed his eyes on his shoulder, and rode harder, using every single aching muscle to urge the horse on.

The palomino had a six-foot jump on him. Pushing the Appaloosa, Decker managed to keep pace. Lilah’s horse couldn’t possibly continue at that heart-straining speed. Hopefully the goddamn animal would slow down before he killed her with his kamikaze mission.

High Time was galloping without so much as a slip of the hoof. Good old Aps, nothing upset their footing. But each time the horse maneuvered a particularly difficult path, he was forced to sacrifice speed. Apollo kept widening the distance. Lilah had lost any ounce of control. The palomino was racing to his own evil drummer.

Decker cursed his sense of smugness. Lilah’s evil vibrations were no longer a crazy fantasy but a terrifying reality. He could feel sweat drenching his clothes, dripping off his forehead as he pressed forward. He could feel the horror gripping his body. Yet he knew his fear couldn’t possibly be as strong as Lilah’s. As fast as he was riding, Decker
knew
he had control: that he could stop at any moment. Lilah had no such comfort as the palomino kept running at a maniacal pace. If only he could catch up to the sucker — a herculean task, but he was determined not to fail. He bunched his shoulders, dug deep into High Time’s flanks, and drove the Appaloosa to her max.