“Sally…”
“Kate.” Her tone was quiet, however, I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, certainly not a great welcome.
“How are you both?”
Sally sighed. “What do you think? Hilary’s lost her sponsorship; her best horse is being taken away tomorrow and I don’t think she has eaten properly in at least three weeks. It’s shit and it’s all Adam’s fault. So, I don’t want to seem rude, but could you just fuck off!”
“Sally, please… You must know that he couldn’t have done this…”
“Kate, he was seen on CCTV getting a pitchfork and she had his chain in her hand. What more do you want? Look I don’t want to talk about this with you. If you’ll excuse me, I presume you know the way out.”
I watched as Sally stormed off towards her cottage, she stepped inside and slammed the door shut.
“Oh…”
“And what did you expect? A warm welcome with open arms? Let’s see if Hilary is in.”
We walked to the back door of the farmhouse and knocked, there was no response for some minutes. We were about to walk away when the door creaked open.
“What do you want Sal?” Hilary stopped dead, glaring at us, she was about to slam the door but Amanda had put her foot in it. “Get out! I want nothing to do with you!”
“Hilary please?”
“Kate, your husband has ruined me. I wish you would just piss off!” Her shoulders slumped and she stepped away from the door.
I looked at Amanda, Hilary had walked away, leaving the door ajar.
“Hilary?” I called out, but shrugged my shoulders and walked inside, closely followed by Amanda. The kitchen was a mess, there were plates stacked in the sink and the fridge door was open, showing an empty space inside. We walked into the front room, Hilary was crumpled in an armchair surrounded by empty wine bottles, her head in her hands.
“Why did he do it?” She looked up, her eyes red. “He seemed okay; how could he do that to that poor girl?”
“Hilary… I’m so sorry. I don’t think he did it.” I sat down next to Hilary. “He couldn’t, there’s just no way…”
“But he did!” Hilary snapped.
“We’ve looking to prove he didn’t. Could you help us, please?”
“Kate, I like you. Hell, I liked Adam but it seems I was wrong. But if you think he didn’t do it I’ll try and do what I can to help. The police spoke to me for hours and you know they are sure he did it. I wish he hadn’t… Oh, if he hadn’t.”
“Thank you… Look, the police said that there were CCTV images of Adam on the night of the… Well, when it happened. Do you think we could see that please?”
Hilary shrugged, leading us back to an office at the back of the house. Her computer came to life as she touched the mouse, the screen filling with still images. “Shit!” She shook her head. “Sorry, it’s still bloody raw. Here…” She enlarged a window. “This is what the police saw.”
She ran the footage, it showed a black and white image of the stable yard, the time stamp indicated it to be in the early hours of the morning Olivia had died. Suddenly there was movement, I could see Adam, wearing his sweatshirt with our stable’s logo printed on the front. He walked towards a small building, stepping inside and then coming out carrying a pitchfork before walking away from the camera towards the muck heap. His face was masked by the hood of the jumper.
I sat in shock watching Adam collecting the murder weapon. Whereas I couldn’t see his face, he was wearing the sweatshirt I’d given him which had been a unique proof version from the printers for us to test before I ordered more for our staff and clients. There was only one person in the world who had that hoodie and it was Adam. I sat down heavily feeling winded. My hope had been I could have looked at the CCTV images and seen it was someone else, but there was no chance.
“Oh, God! It’s him…” I shuddered.
“Come on Kate…” Amanda put her hand on my shoulder. “Thanks, Hilary, I’m sorry for wasting your time. May we just look at the caravan where Adam was staying before we go?”
Hilary nodded, remaining sat in the office chair, staring at the screen.
“Okay, thank you. We’ll see our own way out…”
* * *
Crossing the yard, we approached the scruffy static caravan. Kate stopped as she turned the corner, it was a hovel, riddled with mould, sinking in a sea of mud. I stepped up and opened the flimsy door.
The inside was tidy but dilapidated. We looked around, there were a few of Adam’s belongings, Kate picked up his watch from the kitchen counter and slipped it into her pocket. The bedroom was small, the bed had been made. I felt Kate shudder and thought of him tidying before he had travelled home, unaware of what was about to unfold. We were about to leave when Kate bent down picking up an earring from the floor beside the bed. It was a simple gold ring, cheap but showy. She gulped back tears.
“I’m sure it’s nothing…” I hoped it was nothing. I could see from Kate’s expression she felt it was evidence of company in her husband’s bedroom. “Adam wouldn’t…”
“Let’s go…” Kate pushed me aside, rushing to leave the caravan.
* * *
The miles had passed in silence, I’d tried to speak to Kate but she had ignored me and stared blindly through the window, the images were damning, I’d seen my brother wearing a unique, one-of-a-kind jumper, select a pitchfork and make his way to kill Olivia. An involuntary chill ran through my body.
It couldn’t be true? There was no way in which he could have done this, but it seemed that the evidence was damming. All in all, it seemed I hadn’t known my little brother after all.
IV
All Alone
“Experts state keeping horses cooped up in their stables without access to grazing is unnatural and bad for their health. So, how long is too long to keep them inside?”
Riding Magazine
19
Night Thoughts
We both sat in silence, we’d bought something to eat, however, now I had heated it in the oven neither of us found we had any appetite. I looked up at Amanda, she was being strong, no doubt for me, I could tell she was hurting as much as I was, I had lost my husband she had lost her brother.
Adam was in prison awaiting trial, a trial for which I could see no conclusion other than him being found guilty of a terrible crime and being locked away for the next twenty years. And, if he had done it if he had been able to stand before a young girl and watch her die, did Kate really want to have him in her life?
Perhaps the suggestion of a divorce was not a display of everlasting love, but the proof he knew what he had done. Guilt on more than one level, it seemed. Perhaps the man I loved, the man I thought I had known had secrets he had kept from me.
I had forced him away, forced him to work at another yard and, perhaps into the arms of another woman and, if he could do that, who knows what he could be capable of. Maybe it would be for the best that his unborn child never knew him, a person the world thought was a cruel and callous murderer.
No, I couldn’t believe it. I lay in bed, desperate to try and reconcile the thoughts in my head. This was madness. I loved him. He had loved me, unconditionally.
“Oh, Adam… What have you done?”
* * *
I stared at the monitor. I’d been slumped in the office chair for hours, the CCTV footage running on repeat, I just couldn’t even bring myself to switch it off. I took a deep slug from another wine bottle. This was it; my horses would be gone soon and with them my reason for living. “Why did you do it, Adam?” I asked the empty room. Olivia had been difficult but it hadn’t been my choice to have her in the yard. Grace forced my hand, demanding her daughter be given special treatment. Well, she got that… No doubt Grace had expected that all along, from the moment I accepted her sponsorship, had been that I would babysit her obnoxious daughter.
Oh, I’d been warned, other riders had taken me aside and told me Grace could be trouble. But I was a young rider, I wasn�
��t exactly spoilt for choice when it came to funding. When Grace came to me, gushing about how good I was and how I would fit her brand so well, I was flattered. She was good at that, making you feel special until you were caught in her trap. I’d needed the money, but from the moment she was my sponsor she made it clear she was the one in charge.
She was totally controlling, which horses I should ride, which events I needed to attend, even what I wore. For God’s sake, I’d have to wear a specific brand of underwear as her ‘riders’ comfort’ brand was part of her organisation. The shame when she had made me drop my breeches when she had come unannounced to the yard to see I was, what did she say, ‘living the brand’. I’d seen Sally smirking, my cheeks bright red with embarrassment.
Sally didn’t understand why I complained about Grace. On the outside, Grace was always perfect, so nice, so lovely. Always complimenting the hard-working grooms and showering Sally with gifts before taking me into the farmhouse and berating me for costs or poor riding, even when I’d won a competition.
The shame at Olympia the year before. It was the Christmas party for the showjumping fraternity, with big competition and equally big prizes. Grace had wanted to win everything and had yelled at me when I’d ‘not ridden hard enough’. I’d been a few hundredths of a second off first place, it had been nail-bitingly close and she should have been happy. The final even made the mainstream press and her face was all over it. But no, this wasn’t good enough for her. While she sent Sally off to the after-show party she had dragged me away to the stable block to tell me I was a total failure, a sham. Her daughter could ride better and, if I failed her again, she would replace me with her.
So that was what had happened, Olivia was to be ‘taught’ by me, but within a season she would have my rides and no doubt my yard. Stupidly I’d signed over most of the property, advised by her people it would save me so much money. I’d been so naive, by the time I’d realised what I’d done, signing documents I didn’t understand or even been given time to read, I’d signed over everything to her. She could throw me out of what had been my family home at a moment’s notice, and that moment was about to arrive.
How had it come to this? I was a good rider, I won classes and big competitions. I sold a hell of a lot of her cheap and nasty horse feed, not that I liked feeding it to my horses. Oh, I was well aware of the online rumours and the campaigns to get the products banned as they were of ‘substandard quality, a metaphor for floor sweepings and whatever mouldy crap could be cooked and served as ‘Turners Performance Pony Pencils’ or their competition mix which, embarrassingly, had a photo of me on the pack. Not that there was a professional worth their salt who would feed it to their horses. I’d been the laughing stock of the circuit. What had Rupert said, ‘Oh look who’s been stupid enough to put her face to that shite…’
Grace had called me and told me Olivia would be arriving and I should start teaching her. No warning, no discussion. I’d tried with Sally and Adam, oh goodness how I’d messed that up. If only I could have been honest. I wish I could have at least sat Sally down and explained why she was here, that it hadn’t been my decision to take Olivia on. But she rubbed people up the wrong way. Look at Adam, he had beaten her, and I wish I’d done the same, but then… I felt sick. Images in my mind of the poor girl at my feet. Christ…
I’d never intended this to happen.
I drained the bottle and threw it down. What the hell did it matter now? I was ruined, but it was about to happen anyway. Soon enough Olivia would have replaced me. But at least I could have lied and called it a retirement from the sport. I could have saved face and offered to coach, maybe even ridden for someone else. That was impossible now. My reputation was ruined. The tightknit horse world awash with whispers about me, hell there were shouts on social media for my head.
It seemed there were two camps online. Those who thought I had been hard done by; Olivia’s death had been a terrible tragedy and I shouldn’t suffer because of it. However, they were drowned out by new campaigns which were looking to lynch me. I was living in fear since reading there was a ‘String up Hilary’ group on Facebook where, according to a poll I’d seen, the rapidly growing membership felt that me being tarred, feathered and paraded at the next big showjumping event would be too good for me. I’d stolen Olivia from them and it was ‘as good as if I’d killed her myself’.
I’d spoken to the police who assured me they would act, but I’d already had death threats and even packages of dog crap posted to me. It was all being stirred up, Adam was in prison so he couldn’t be attacked, but it seemed I was fair game. I suppose the public wanted to vent their anger at someone, but didn’t they realise I was hurting too. I may have disliked Olivia but she was still a pretty young lady with her life ahead of her. I was doing all I could to support her.
Maybe if I’d had a backbone, I would have thrown her out the first time she’d struck one of my horses. I should have torn her off a strip and demanded she packed her bags. She would still be alive if I’d done that, so maybe this was my fault after all.
I’d allowed an aggressive rider to abuse my horses and instead of taking a stand, I’d let her get away with it. I’d stood back because I was afraid I might upset my sponsor. Oh God, I was a fraud. It was clear, I deserved the vitriol I was receiving. This was not punishment for what had happened to Olivia, this was punishment for the fact I’d allowed her to do this and not stopped her.
It could have worked out differently. She might have listened to me. She had been a damn good rider. Hell, she was better than me. It was just her temper, if she could have managed that she would have ridden Gold easily, the selectors would have been falling over themselves to pick her.
So here I was. A drunk, festering in what could have been, having allowed a potential star to be killed because I was too weak to do something about it. The images on the screen had looped and were showing the black and white image of Adam stepping into the tool shed, repeating, time after time his progress to ending her life.
“Adam…” I said aloud, again to the silent and empty room. “You may have carried the fork, but it was me who was responsible…” I shook my head, there he was, hood up stepping from there, pitchfork in hand.
My heart stopped. I sat up sharply, grabbing the computer mouse. I tracked back the images on screen a few frames, leaning in staring at the screen, blinking. I fumbled, grabbing my phone and quickly dialled a number.
20
A Career in Germany
Waking without Adam beside me in bed had once felt alien to me, now it seemed as this would be my life. I would need to stand alone. No, I Wasn’t ready to give up yet. I sat up, wishing it had been a dream but sadly instead the nightmare was continuing. I sighed, stepping out of bed and walking to the shower.
The hot water did nothing to refresh me. I still felt stiff, my limbs leaden. I went downstairs into the kitchen. Amanda was sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming mug before her.
“Morning, there’s tea in the pot.”
I poured a mug of tea, stirring and sipping the warm liquid before sitting down, staring out of the window. It was a beautiful day, the sun sparkling on the water in the bay, however, I felt nothing but cold and alone.
I glanced at my phone which I’d left on the table. There was a message on the screen, someone had left me a voicemail. I picked it up and dialled the voicemail number, the message was slurring and left by someone who had been drinking.
“Kate… It’s Hilary. Look, I’m sorry for being so rude to you. I just feel pretty cut up at the moment. I need to speak with you, I’ve been looking at the CCTV images and…-’
There was a loud sound, it was like a thud followed by another loud crash then the message cut off. I pressed a key on my phone and listened again. “How strange?”
“What’s that?” Amanda looked up.
“This voicemail message. It’s from Hilary, she starts to speak and then it cuts out. Have a listen.” I handed Amanda my phone. She listened t
o the message before handing back the phone.
Death Rider (The Rider Series Book 2) Page 13
