The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (56 page)

"Yeah." She followed him through two
large steel doors that led into the intensive care area. It was as sterile as
any human hospital. Classical music played softly over the speakers.

"Over here is the hydrotherapy pool."
They walked into a separate room with a large pool and a sling off to the side
with a lift and pulley setup. Ethan said, "Halliday has spent quite a bit
of time in this already, and throughout his rehab he'll spend more time. We get
him into the sling and pull him into the water, where he is able to move freely,
to help keep his muscles from deteriorating. And also to keep his spirits up.
Horses want to move, so the hard part for these guys when they break a leg is
making sure they don't lose it mentally. It's a shame that he has to go through
this. Come on, he's over here."

They walked through another set of double doors.
The new area wasn't quite as antiseptic smelling, but there still was that
faint scent of alcohol. Michaela took in more of the normal horse-related
smells that she was used to—straw, hay, manure, and horse. There were four
stalls in the area. Two were occupied, one with Halliday.

"That's Rosa in there. Came in here for colic
surgery yesterday. She's doing much better. Here he is."

Halliday looked up from his feeder. He was in a
sling, which held his feet slightly off the ground, but he nickered as they
said hello to him. "Poor guy," Michaela said.

"No doubt, but see how bright his eyes are?
He's going to make it, Mick, I feel it. And when he does, I'm sure he'll
command quite a stud fee."

"Doesn't bode well for the racing industry,
does it?"

"What do you mean? Halliday injuring
himself?"

"No, what I'm talking about is all that goes
into the racehorse and then when he's injured, possibly even a fatal injury,
human greed takes over. What do you think of racing in general?"

"You know, people have been racing horses for
centuries, and tons of different breeds. Yes, you see some greed out there.
You'll see track owners get their dirt padding down to next to nothing hoping
to increase speed and get a record time on their track. It happens, and there
are a lot of owners who are against those types of practices. Many of them will
pull their horses out of those races. Many won't because of the fines that are
put into place by doing so, and by the bureaucratic crap that goes along with
it. A lot of owners don't want to make waves. They love their animals, but this
can be a money-making business and there is a lot of power and control that
goes into it. That said, am I against racing horses? Not really. These animals
are built to do this. It's what they're bred for. Now, get Halliday out into a
pasture and he'll be a happy retired animal. But, there will still be that
thread inside of him that pushes him to want to run, and get him on a track
when all of this is said and done, and he'll feel compelled to break out. What
I don't like about racing—or any type of event for that matter when it comes to
animals—is exploitation of animals of any kind. Racing tends to have gotten
that bad rap over the years, because in many cases it fits."

They gave Halliday some attention and then headed
to where the cots were set up. Ethan gave her a pair of sweats and a clean
T-shirt from his bag. "I know they'll be huge on you, but at least they're
clean."

"Thanks."

"Well, I'll let you get some rest."

"Ethan?"

"Yes?"

"Will you stay me with me? I don't want to be
alone."

He studied her for a few seconds. "Yeah. I'll
stay."

MICHAELA AND ETHAN TALKED INTO THE WEE hours and
took turns checking on Rocky, who remained stable throughout the night. It felt
like old times between them. They talked about horses, his unborn son, a bit
more about Summer. Ethan brought up Jude, but Michaela quickly changed the
subject. She also let him in on what she'd been up to over the past week concerning
Audrey and Francisco's murders and Bob's disappearance,

"Mick, I've got to agree with your detective
boyfriend on this one. Don't mess with it," Ethan said.

"First off, I don't have a boyfriend and
second, I feel like I'm close to figuring this out. I'm pretty certain that I
have all of the pieces. I'm just not sure how they fit together. Like this
thing with Kathleen and Halliday. I know how she can cover his expenses
now."

"Oh, yeah. How?"

Michaela explained to Ethan about Olivia and the
contract she'd signed with Friedman and Callahan, as well as the old insurance
policy.

"She sure sounds like a suspect," Ethan
said.

"I know. But so does everyone else."

Ethan agreed with that assessment after she'd
finished detailing the week's dramas. "Hey, Ethan?"

"Hmmm?" he asked, sounding like sleep
was ready to take over.

"Thank you."

He propped himself up onto his elbow. A
night-light that he'd turned on so she'd know how to maneuver if she needed to
get up in the middle of the night cast shadows across his face. "For
what?"

"For taking care of Rocky, and for listening
to me. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too, Mick." He lay
back down.

Michaela rolled over onto her side and
surprisingly, fell asleep after a few moments. Even though it had been a late
night, she woke up before seven the next morning, as the center came to life.
Ethan showed her where she could shower.

"I put your clothes in the wash last night,
while you changed into my sweats. By the way, they look good on you, even if
they're a size too big."

"A size? Try a few sizes."

He winked at her. "I got up early and put
them in the dryer. There they are." He pointed to a desk in the room where
they'd slept. He'd even folded them for her.

"Thanks. I think I will take that shower,
after I check my horse."

Rocky appeared to be fine. Ethan had changed up
his diet, so he was being fed in smaller increments and more than twice a day.
He checked all of his levels after each feeding.

After getting dressed, Michaela poured herself a
cup of coffee in the break room, and waited around for the rest of Rocky's test
results. She checked her messages. Joe called and told her it was important to
call him back.

"I got an address for Cara Klein. And she
is
the same woman who was dating Bob Pratt, and she did work for both Strong X and
Eq Tech, but she was in their marketing departments."

"I thought that she owned Strong X."

"Don't know about that."

"Where is she?"

"She's in a hospice facility in San Diego.
She has cancer." Michaela did remember Josh telling her that the woman Bob
had been seeing was sick. Cancer? He gave her the address. "That is all we
can get on her. Other than that, she was clean. That's all I know. But I did
learn something else: There is a connection between Strong X and Terrell
Jardinière."

"What's that?"

"Terrell was a spokesman for the company.
Rumor has it that the supplements he was taking from them were what caused his
stroke. Kind of similar to that company that gave Barry Bonds those supplements
that supposedly don't have no connection with steroids." Joe snorted.

"Oh my God. I've got to go, Joe. I'll call
you later." Michaela went searching for Ethan.

"What is it?" he asked. One look at her
face must have told him that something was wrong.

"That file that I gave you from Bob. The one
Audrey had…"

"Yeah?"

"Have you looked at it yet?"

"No. I meant to, but then Rocky took that
turn and—"

"You need to. When I looked at it, it looked
to me like a grouping of horses, not just one case. You need to look at which
of those horses were on Eq Tech supplements. I think that something in those
supplements could be hurting the horses. It's what's making them sick."

"What?"

"Can you break down the chemical components
in the supplements?"

"Someone here can."

"Do it. I've got to see someone. I'll be
back."

"Mick, where are you going?

"Just trust me. It's in the
supplements."

She left to speak with Cara Klein, who she knew
would provide the missing link.

MICHAELA DROVE TO AN AREA CALLED MISSION Valley,
northeast of downtown San Diego. The hospice sat high up on a hill overlooking
the valley and the many freeways that crisscrossed the area.

Entering, Michaela felt a bit nervous not knowing
what she would learn, if anything, that might help find Audrey's killer. A
nurse greeted her. "May I help you?"

"I'm here to see Cara Klein. I'm Michaela
Bancroft." This woman was way friendlier than the nurse at the home that
Terrell was in.

She checked a roster. "I'm sorry, but I don't
see you on the list of visitors. I can ask if she'd like to see you."

Michaela nodded. "Tell her that it's about
Bob Pratt."

The nurse looked at her oddly, but nodded and
walked down the hall. She returned a minute later and told Michaela that Cara
was in room 219 and would see her. She walked to the room, where she found a
tiny woman lying in bed. She couldn't have been over thirty-five; she had no
hair, her face was pulled taut, and her hazel eyes seemed glossed over. She
smiled weakly at Michaela and said, "Hi."

"Hello." Michaela closed the door and
walked over to the bed. "I'm Michaela Bancroft."

"The nurse told me." Cara slurred her
words a little, likely from the pain medications. "You know Bob?"

"Yes." Michaela wasn't sure how to start
this conversation. It would be awkward, to say the least. "I was a friend
of Audrey, Bob's sister. I don't know if you're aware, but Audrey was murdered
a week ago and Bob has disappeared. I was hoping you could help me piece some
missing links together."

Cara frowned; her eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I
don't think…I can help you."

Michaela could hear a tremor in the woman's voice,
and she wasn't very convincing. "Please." Dammit. She felt that Cara
Klein might actually have some answers. Why did the woman sound scared?

"Cara," she continued, "there are
horses being hurt, maybe even dying. I think you know why and I think that
whatever is going on with these animals might have something to do with Bob's
disappearance and Audrey's murder."

"Yes," she whispered.

"So you do know about this?"

Tears came to Cara's eyes. She sighed. "I
do."

Michaela sat down and scooted the chair close to
Cara's bed in order to better hear her. "Last weekend at the races was
where Audrey was killed. We'd gone together to see Olivia Bowen perform and
were watching the races from Kathleen Bowen's box."

"I know them."

"You do?"

Cara nodded and started coughing. The horrid
barklike cough lasted a while. Cara placed an oxygen mask over her face for a
minute. "Sorry," she said, once the coughing was under control.

"You don't need to apologize."

"I know the Bowens and that entire circle."

Michaela wasn't sure what she meant by that.
"Entire circle?"

"The racing scene."

"Do you mean Frederick Callahan, Marshall
Friedman?" Michaela knew that each of them owned racehorses. They also
knew the Bowens.

"I'd say they're…part of that group."
She started coughing again. Michaela saw a bottle of water on the table next to
her and reached across to give it to her.

Cara shook her head and put the oxygen back on.
After another minute and some deep breaths, she closed her eyes. Michaela's
stomach sank. "Cara?"

The woman opened her eyes. Thank God. "You'll
have to…bear with me. It might take some time, but there are some things I…need
to tell you."

MICHAELA HAD BEEN RIGHT: CARA KLEIN HAD ANSWERS. At
first there were parts to her story that she doubted. But the woman had been
very convincing, and the more she thought about it, and allowed the information
to settle in, the more she realized that what Cara told her had been the truth.
She now knew what had happened to Bob, and had a good idea as to what went down
with Audrey. And she was ready to catch a killer, but she would need some help.

She called Joe and told him what she'd learned.
They devised a plan on how she'd trap the killer.

"It's good, Michaela…but why not just bring
in the cops?" Joe asked.

"The woman who gave me this information made
me promise not to go to the police."

"Why?"

"She's afraid. She's been burned a few times
and doesn't trust many people."

"She trusted you."

"I'll fill you in when I see you. Now, can I
count on you?"

"When have you not been able to count on
me?" She laughed. "I'm in," he said.

Michaela spent Friday night at theRocovich Center
again, and to everyone's relief Rocky was doing great. Trusting her instincts,
the vets had altered his course of treatment and he was perking up nicely. The
chemicals in the supplements were still being broken down. The vets had to send
them out to a separate group of chemists, who would be able to better determine
what compounds made up the product. They wouldn't have results for a couple of
days, but Michaela felt that she was right. And now that Rocky looked better,
she also felt better. Ethan did not stay the night again as Summer called, full
of complaints. Guilt-ridden for leaving her alone for a few days, he went home.

Saturday morning, Michaela gave Rocky a hug,
"You'll be coming home in a couple of days, bud. You're going to get
better now." She left her horse behind again, only this time certain that he
would make a full recovery.

She got to Los Angeles late in the afternoon and
found the Eq Tech apartment. She called Joe one more time. "We're on
it," he reassured her.

"Good."

She called Hudson Drake to let him know that she'd
made it. "Hey, do you still want that date for tonight?"