Horse of a Different Killer (29 page)

Crap!

I rushed inside and opened my laptop. A quick look at the weather website I'd been checking over the last few days confirmed my fears.

The line of storms was headed onshore. I snatched up my phone. It took a minute to find the number I was looking for.

It rang at least ten times before a good old-fashioned answering machine picked up.

“This is Grace Wilde. If you're there, please pick up—it's an emergency.” I waited a couple of seconds. “Okay, I'm going to say this as quickly as I can. Heart, the horse I've been looking for and am fairly certain you have, is terrified of storms. It's a long story, the why isn't important. You need to know—” The machine cut me off.

“Dammit.” I redialed.

Busy.

I walked outside, counted to ten while I watched the bloom of angry clouds roil closer, then tried the number again. It started ringing. I knew I couldn't just leave a message and hope for the best. I glanced at Nelly. I couldn't leave her in the condo, either.

The answering machine picked up again.

“Heart—the horse. He has to be blindfolded during storms. It's the only thing that will keep him calm. Otherwise, he'll panic and hurt himself. Let me know you got this message. You don't have to admit to anything, I just want to know he's safe. My number—” The machine cut me off again.

“Really?”

A spear of lightning flashed in the distant clouds.

No time.

“Roscoe, you're on kitty-patrol. Nelly, Moss, let's go.” I grabbed a slip lead and Moss's leash. “We've got a horse to save.”

I loaded Nelly into Bluebell first, then hurried to the other side to open the door for Moss, who hopped in to join her. I started to close the door and noticed Nelly was chewing on something besides her cud.

A stiff piece of white paper jutted from the side of her mouth.

“Give me that.” I reached past Moss and plucked the paper from her lips, frowning when I realized what it was.

A card. Plain but for a phone number printed on one side.

Logan.

He must have left it in the seat the other night.

Shaking my head, I shoved the mangled card into my back pocket, shut the door, and climbed in behind the wheel.

As I pulled onto A1A, I redialed the number. Again, I got the answering machine.

“Blindfold the horse before the storm if you want to keep him safe,” I said in a rush. “Listen to the other messages if you need the details. I'm on my way to you now.”

The storm chased us all the way there. Pressing closer in the rearview mirror with every mile.

Finally, I turned off the paved road toward R-n-R, then turned again and followed a narrow, bumpy lane to where it ended.

I climbed out of Bluebell but paused before opening the back door to allow Moss to join me.

Heart might be afraid of dogs. The horse was sure to be agitated; I didn't want to add any more stress.

I turned toward the barn, then did an about-face and went back to Bluebell. Walking around to the other side, I opened the door to see Nelly had stretched her neck over the backseat into the cargo space and was nibbling on something she shouldn't. The goat wouldn't frighten Heart, and I couldn't leave her to damage herself or Bluebell's seats, carpet, seat belts, or whatever else she could get her lips on.

“Come on, Nelly.” I slipped a lead around her neck. “You're coming with me. Moss, stay.” I laced the last command with the weight of my will. Letting him know it was important he do as I asked.

He yielded, unhappily, and gave me the letdown-yet-still-eager face through the window as I closed the door.

“Sorry, big guy. If I can, I'll come get you in a bit.”

Nelly in tow, I hurried to the barn's massive set of doors, started to reach for the handle, and stopped.

A new padlock gleamed in the dusky light, mocking me.

I grabbed the lock and yanked. It remained steadfastly closed.

There was a crack where the two doors met and I peered through it, trying to get a glimpse of the equine I knew was inside. But the crack was too narrow and the interior too dark.

“Mind telling me what you're doing here?”

I turned and saw Boomer, who was standing near the corner of the barn and holding a very serious-looking double-bladed ax in one hand. He wasn't swinging it at me, and I didn't want him to, so I raised my hands as far as Nelly's lead would allow.

“Guess you didn't get my messages?” I asked.

He didn't respond, just studied me with a narrow-eyed gaze.

“Listen, there isn't time to explain,” I said. “I know it's asking a lot, but you need to trust me. We have to get a blindfold on Heart. Now.”

A distant, muted rumble of thunder punctuated my words. A nervous whinny sounded from inside the barn, along with hooves shuffling over hard earth.

“Why do you have Nelly?” Boomer asked.

“I found her in Jennings. I'm planning to take her back to R-n-R, but I have to make sure Heart's okay first.”

The wind picked up, making the treetops sway. Another strained whinny echoed from the other side of the door.

The world had become tinted with the odd yellow-green light that sometimes precedes a storm.

We didn't have much time.

“Boomer, please. We have to blindfold the horse. If we don't, he'll panic and hurt himself.”

“Blindfold, with what?”

“I was going to use this.” I motioned to the windbreaker I'd tied around my waist.

Heart snorted and uttered a louder, more agitated squeal.

The fear started radiating from him in cold, shivering waves. I pressed back with soothing thoughts, and he calmed, but I knew it was tenuous.

“Please,” I said to Boomer.

The man reached into his pocket and tossed me his keys. I handed him the end of Nelly's lead, unlocked the doors, and pulled one side open. In the eerie light, Heart looked like a phantom emerging from the shadows. A Ringwraith's fell steed.

Boomer limped inside, turned on the lights, and the horse was transformed into the beautiful animal I'd been looking for.

“Heart.” I was so relieved, I wanted to rush forward and fling my arms around his neck.

Heart's ears pricked at the sound of his name. I felt his flutter of hope and anticipation—then his eyes adjusted to the light and the feeling faded.

He'd seen my dark hair and for a moment thought I was Jasmine.

“Sorry, handsome.”
I'll get you together soon
,
I promised, then untied the windbreaker. “First, let's take care of this, okay?”

Heart shied as the first drops of rain began to fall. I reached out with soothing thoughts to calm him. As quickly as possible, I folded the lightweight fabric and, with Boomer's steadying hand on Heart's halter, tied the jacket over his eyes.

The horse calmed almost instantly. I let out a pent-up breath and gave his neck a gentle pat. Then gave him a quick, mental once-over to check for any physical issues. He was fine and dandy.

“How did you know?” Boomer asked.

“I told you, his owner was worried about him.” I'd turned to look at Boomer and give him the full story when I noticed something unusual.

We were surrounded on three sides with hay bales. They'd been stacked like giant bricks to form a wall.

The brick-laying pattern started by one door, stair-stepped up and went all the way around to the other door. With both doors closed, the structure became a temporary horse stall in the middle of the barn.

A more thorough look around told me why the makeshift corral was necessary.

To the left, the stalls had been converted to chicken, or in this case, Guinea coops. The wall to the right was covered with various gardening tools. Several polo mallets were mounted above, and a few dangled from a hook.

A workbench and shelving lined the back wall, packed with an array of tools, paint cans, extension cords, and various other items sure to get a curious horse into trouble if given the chance.

The gap above the base where the hay wall started was large enough for a person to step up and over, providing access to the rest of the barn.

“I like the hay idea,” I told Boomer, turning to face him.

“You know horses,” Boomer said, still eyeing me a little warily. “If they can get into something, they will.”

I nodded. “Not as bad as goats, though.” As if to prove my point, Nelly bounced up the pass-through opening to stand on the wall of hay.

Goats.

The rain and wind picked up and Boomer went to close the doors against the strengthening storm. I noticed he'd set the ax in the corner, which I took as a good sign.

Without any prompting, he turned to me and said, “I wasn't planning on keeping him.”

“What happened? Why take him in the first place?”

“Our mare, Lucy, was getting over a mild colic. I'd been checking on her every few hours. I knew Parnell wouldn't bother.”

“Because he wants to sell R-n-R?”

“I didn't know that at the time, but he'd made it clear he didn't care much about the animals. When Nelly got out, he just shrugged. Asked me how long it would take to fix the fence.”

“It was up to you to check on Lucy.”

He nodded. “It's quicker to cut across the back field than it is to get in the truck and drive all the way around. Mess with the gate, you know.”

I remembered seeing how close his house was to R-n-R's barn on the aerial map. I also remembered a fence.

“How do you get onto the property?”

“There's a gate to access the riding trails.”

I hadn't remembered seeing a gate, but I hadn't been looking.

“It was after midnight,” Boomer continued. “That time of night, things are usually real still and quiet, but when I headed across the field I saw a car parked by the office. As I got closer, I could see there were a couple of people in the front. At first, I thought it was Hunter with one of his friends sneaking a beer or something. You know kids.”

“But it wasn't Hunter.” I had a good guess who it was.

Boomer shook his head. “One of them lit a cigarette and I saw his face. There was something about him. I can't say what, but it didn't feel right. We didn't have anyone scheduled to stay—and the gate should have been locked, so they weren't turned around or lost.”

“Why not call the cops?”

“Couldn't. They'd have seen me if I tried to get to the office. I went as far as the shed so I could hear what they were saying. One of them had an accent—he said, ‘We need to cut him open. We can't just shoot him.' The other said, ‘Why not? Ortega can take care of the fallout. What does he care about a dead horse as long as he gets his money?' And I knew I didn't have time to make it home to call the police, either.”

“How did you know the ‘him' they were talking about was Heart?”

“Scout is the only other horse it could've been, and he's been at R-n-R for years. Why would anyone want to cut him open all of a sudden?”

“So you took Heart before they could hurt him.”

“I've lost horses before. Working with them as long as I have it's bound to happen. But the last time—” He shook his head and looked away. “The last time, I swore: never again.”

Thunder boomed loud enough to rattle the walls. We all jumped. Boomer and I both looked at Nelly, who had thankfully decided to lie down atop the hay and was in no danger of falling over. Heart shied but no more than any other horse might and as soon as the thunder rumbled past, he was still.

I cast my mental feelers out to Moss. He wasn't afraid of storms the way some dogs are, but I wanted to check in, anyway.

You okay, big guy?

Okay. Dinner?

Yep, he was fine.

Soon.
I apologized for the late dinner and promised to make it up to him. He settled in to enjoy the white noise of the pounding rain and dream of the clucky, fluttery things he'd smelled when we had first driven up.

I looked past Heart toward the coops, where I could see the dark, speckled forms of the guineas as they roosted. Even over the pounding rain, their squeaking honks and soft whistles were audible. Guineas were renowned for raising the alarm if they spotted a threat. Real or imagined.

“What did the guineas think of their new barn mate?” I asked Boomer.

“Fussed a little when I brought him home that first night.”

“Why didn't you call the police once you got back?”

“I was going to,” he said. “It took some time to get him settled. Once everyone was quiet, I went back to see if they were still around, but the car was gone. I figured it could wait. The next morning I went to talk to Mr. Parnell, you know, tell him what happened. When I got to R-n-R, there was a man already asking questions. Said he was a cop named Ortega.”

Tony had pretended to be a cop? It was almost laughable.

“I remembered hearing the men the night before saying someone named Ortega would take care of things.”

“You thought they knew a dirty cop who would cover for them.”

He nodded. “Parnell didn't want anything to do with it. Too worried about selling the place, I guess. So I tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Why anybody'd want to cut up a horse? I figured Lily Earl might know something but by then, I was neck-deep in this mess, didn't want to drag her into it.”

“You're the one who stole her paperwork.”

“And a fat lot of good it did me. Everything on it was fake. I called the contact number—no answer. I tried looking up his registered name. Nothing. I didn't know what to think, except someone wanted to hurt him, and I wasn't going to let that happen.”