Tacked to Death (10 page)

"No. You've got plenty going on. You
don't need to be babysitting for me. That's the thing with you: You
always try and help other people out and all it does is add more
pressure for you. You've got to stop it."

"It'll help me take my mind off of
everything." But she knew the real reason Ethan wouldn't have her
watch Josh likely had more to do with Summer's feelings toward her
than anything else.

"Maybe. But you do have to start
thinking about yourself."

"I am. Honestly. I'm thinking about how
in the heck I'm going to prove that I didn't kill Sterling
Taber."

"And I want to help. I want you to keep
me in the loop and tell me what I can do." He rubbed his eye.
"Damn. Something in there. Been bugging me all
afternoon."

"Let me see. Sit down on the couch, and
I'll take a look." She set Josh back down on his blanket and handed
him a set of plastic baby keys, which he eagerly went back to
playing with. She leaned over Ethan, who lay his head back on the
couch. "Whoop, yep, there it is. Eyelash." She gently removed the
lash and then brushed it off his face. She went to back away but
nearly tripped over the baby, who had rolled over next to
them.

To avoid hurting Josh, she fell forward
onto Ethan. Right into his lap. "Oops. Sorry." She scrambled to get
up, her face burning. Ethan was looking at her in a way that he
hadn't before. At first there was a slight curve on his lips and
then as a second passed, the look in his eyes became one of
intensity, almost as if were looking directly into her heart and
soul, as if he knew her at her very core. Another second slipped
by. Michaela shifted uncomfortably. She lifted herself and braced
her hands against the couch trying to get all the way back up. They
both started to laugh. The tension eased.

Ethan quickly reached down and picked
up the baby. "That's okay. Better than falling on you." He poked
Josh's chest and tickled him. The baby giggled. Ethan stood.
"Promise you'll keep me in the loop."

Uh-huh. She believed that Ethan was
there to support her, but Summer might not have too much of a
problem with her being locked away. "I will. Thank you." She kissed
both of them on the cheek and helped Ethan put the baby toys back
in the bag.

Once they were gone, she went back out
to the barn to take care of Rocky. Now, here was a male who
understood her. She leaned her head against his neck and sighed,
her mind spinning at not only the prospect of being a murder
suspect, but also at the fact that something had just happened
between her and Ethan. She couldn't deny it. It was something that
had never happened before. When they'd looked into each other's
eyes for that second, a powerful surge of electricity had shot
through her—straight to her heart. It had been nothing like she'd
ever felt before, and she knew Ethan had felt it, too.

Thirteen

Michaela went to bed with her mind in a
jumbled mess. Between Sterling's murder and her confused feelings
over Jude…And then—dammit—Ethan had once again messed up her head.
That slight but intense moment they'd shared had her wondering
about her feelings for him. They were feelings she could never act
on, and she knew they were futile. It was silly, really. So, she'd
kind of fallen on him and he'd looked at her in the way a man looks
at a woman he wants to touch, to kiss—to love—but none of that
mattered. She wiped the thoughts from her mind.

Not unhappy to see the sun rise, she
made an organized list in her mind as to the order in which she
planned to see people today. She figured that no one would be at
Sorvino's until closer to the lunch hour, so Lance Watkins was up
first. Even though she'd overheard that odd conversation between Ed
Mitchell and Pepe, she couldn't get out of her mind the animosity
that existed between Lance and Sterling. Ethan's conversation with
her yesterday had only disturbed her further and made her more
curious as to what the real situation between the two of them had
been.

Michaela pulled up to the exquisite
facility that Lance Watkins owned and operated. She got out and
looked around. There was a dressage ring to her left, marked in the
shape of a square and surrounded by trimmed date palms. Beyond that
was a large green pasture where a handful of horses grazed and
soaked up the sun, not to mention eating plenty of grass. She
watched one lie down and roll. It was always a sight to see such
large beasts rolling around in the grass, maybe scratching their
backs, but more than likely doing it because it felt good. Not all
horses took the pleasure in rolling, but many did and it brought a
smile to her face to see a horse just being a horse.

There was a row of stalls and a barn to
her right, painted a traditional brick red and trimmed in white.
Adjacent to them were sets of pipe corrals, likely for people who
boarded their horses. Michaela knew that Lance earned a nice income
by simply setting up a room and board facility. As far as training
with him, that was expensive and only the cream of the crop fit
into that category. His facility looked traditional and well
kept.

She walked up a small embankment to the
jumping arena and saw that Lance was working a strong and
forward-looking warm-blood over a set of cavallettis. The horse
stood over seventeen hands high and was a gorgeous dapple gray.
Lance handled him beautifully, his patience and connection with the
animal obvious. Together the horse and trainer moved elegantly,
with the rider in perfect balance as the animal bent and worked his
way through the training session, seemingly to want to please his
rider, which is what every trainer desires.

Lance worked the gray repeatedly over
the cavallettis, a row of wooden poles on the ground spaced a few
feet apart from one another. The idea of cavalletti training is to
get the horse to move over them with agility and precision. It also
allows them to start to connect with the idea that they want to
avoid the wooden pole. Once the animal can maneuver the cavalletti
with ease, it is likely ready to graduate to a higher jump. It took
several goes at the cavallettis, but when the horse did it
correctly, Lance knew it was time to stop pushing him. He gave him
a pat on his neck and let his reins hang loose, allowing him to
stretch his neck after working those muscles so
intensely.

Lance spotted Michaela. "Hey, to what
do I owe this pleasure?" he asked.

"Thought I'd pay a visit. Great
horse."

He rode the gray over to the side of
the arena. "He's a sweetheart." Lance nodded. "Hey, sorry I was so
rude at the polo field, then after what happened to that guy I felt
really bad. I also heard about the cops arresting you. What a
crock."

"Yeah, well." She shoved her hand into
her jeans pockets. "About those ruffians and the polo
grounds…"

"Uh-oh. I don't like the sound of
that." He slid his right leg over the horse, dropped lightly to the
ground, and loosened the buckle on his Troxel helmet.

She mustered a smile. "Sterling didn't
make it easy for many people to like him."

"Ah. No, he didn't."

She noticed he wore the polo shirt from
the event. She squinted. There was a dark reddish-brown spot on the
sleeve. Before she thought, she blurted out, "Is that blood on your
shirt?"

Lance pulled the sleeve up slightly off
his arm and looked to where she was pointing. "Yeah, it is. How the
hell did that get there? Oh, yeah." He bent down and undid a wrap
around his horse's front leg. "He's got a nasty gash here, which I
cleaned earlier. He clipped himself while being shod yesterday.
Good thing he didn't get the shoer. I must've smeared some of the
blood on my shirt when I was cleaning his wound."

"Oh." The cut was clean but it could
have bled quite a bit. Michaela still couldn't help but notice that
her mind was heading down a track she didn't like. She was here, so
she needed to do what she came for. "Hey, so I wanted to ask you
about Sunday. As you said, I'm no killer and I'm trying to see what
I can find out. Not to put you on the spot, but I got the sense
from Sterling that there was an issue between the two of
you."

He chuckled again. "I didn't care for
him, no. But, if you drove out here to ask me if I killed him, I
can tell you that I didn't."

"No. That's not what I'm implying at
all. I'm only trying to gather information. You were there. I
wanted to know if you saw or heard anything."

"I wasn't at the show when he was
killed. I'd taken off right after the match. Actually the guy
pissed me off even more so after I rode away from you and Ethan. I
won't deny that. He came right up to me afterward and told me that
I played like a girl with my hands tied behind my back."

"Ouch."

"Yes. Ouch. You know, it irked me, but
the thing that really bugged me was that it wasn't like we were
playing some huge tournament for cash and prizes. We were playing
for charity. A charity I believe in." He twirled his horse's mane
around his fingers, his other hand holding the reins loosely. "You
know, I hope the police find who did this. It's not fair that
you've had to close your center. That money could do a lot of good.
My wife's good friend's son is autistic. I know that he's involved
with horses down in San Diego and it's been great for
him."

"Don't worry, we'll be up and running
again. I am sure of it. If the police don't find out who did it,
then I will."

"Like I said, I'm not your man. In
fact, if it would make you feel better you can ask my wife and
daughter. They were both there on Sunday and once I was done the
three of us took off, right after the confrontation with Sterling.
My family was standing there when he went off on me like that,
which I thought was classless. Hell, my eleven-year-old daughter
was standing right there listening to this guy rag on me. I've got
to tell you, I'm not surprised he's six feet under. Not that anyone
deserves that kind of death. But I heard him being horrible to
Juliet Mitchell right before the match."

"You did?"

"Oh yeah. He was giving her a hard
time. Something about how she needed to listen to him because she
was wrong and didn't know what the hell she was talking about. She
kept insisting that her dad was going to find out about it and she
told him to leave her alone. He grabbed her then, and I started
toward them. So did Zach, who pushed Sterling off of
her."

"No kidding?"

Lance nodded.

"What happened after that?"

"Juliet walked away and went back to
her horse. Zach started talking real low to Sterling and didn't
look too happy with him. I thought I heard him say that he didn't
want anything more to do with him. That he was only playing nice
for the day because of the event, but when it was all said and done
they'd need to talk some more."

"Wow."

Lance shook his head. "Make anything of
that?"

"Maybe. I thought those three were good
friends."

"Yeah, well, one never knows what goes
on behind closed doors. Juliet Mitchell seemed to know something
ugly about her boyfriend and she knew her father would go nuts when
he found out about it. Whatever it was, it was enough to make
Juliet walk away from him, and from what I could tell, Zach,
too."

"Okay. That's food for fodder, isn't
it?"

He nodded. "I wish I could be more
help. You know I'm in your corner. Whatever you need."

"Thanks. One more thing: Tommy Liggett
was also on your team. Do you know him at all?"

"He's okay. Kind of walks in Sterling's
shadow. You know the type—not as good-looking as his friend, not as
rich, not all the girls hanging on him, so he's kind of the wing
man. But the guy is nice enough. I never had an issue with him. I
know he doesn't come from money and he puts most of what he makes
into his horse and his lessons with Robert, so he's really into the
polo. That's about it."

Michaela thanked Lance and walked back
down the hill to her truck. She'd doubted he had anything to do
with killing Sterling. It didn't fit. But she couldn't shake having
seen the spot of blood on his shirt. Was it Sterling's blood? It
was the same shirt he'd worn at the event. It was light colored, so
even if he'd washed it, blood would've stained. But why would a
killer be wearing the same shirt he'd killed someone in? And he was
adamant about his wife and daughter being with him afterward. The
only hole she could see with Lance was his alibi: Was it for real?
Would his wife lie for him, and could his daughter not have a
concept of the timing, being fairly young? She hoped
not.

An altercation between Lance and
Sterling had been something that Lance supposedly had been able to
laugh off and then go home with his family. She really wanted to
believe him. She liked Lance Watkins, and Ethan had told her that
he couldn't see Lance hurting anyone. It was all super damn
confusing.

On top of it, what Lance had told her
about Juliet and Zach added to the mix that they could somehow be
involved with Sterling's murder. Whatever they had argued about
with Sterling seemed far more emotionally charged than the issue
between Sterling and Lance, and Michaela aimed to find out if it
had driven one of the two of them to murder.