by Sara Blaedel
“Dad’s youngest daughter was seriously injured,” Ilka said. “I’m on the way to the hospital to see her now, I have to hurry.”
“So they’ve accepted you after all, have they.” Her mother’s voice sounded brighter now. “That’s so nice for you, having a connection with your half sisters. Do you remember the time you came home from school, when you told your classmates you had a little sister? And when they wanted to see her, you told them she lived in a foreign country. We had no way of knowing back then, of course, but in a way it was right.”
Ilka remembered. She’d felt at the time it was right. She wanted a brother or sister so much, and one day she told the two girls she sat beside in class that she was a big sister now. A few days later one of them gave Ilka a few of her little sister’s onesies. Ilka took them, though her two friends might have been suspicious. At any rate they didn’t talk any more about it.
“It’s not that I’ve gotten to know them that well,” Ilka said. “It’s only Amber, the younger one, that I’ve really talked to. She’s the one in the hospital. Which means she can’t really turn me away, can she.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Her mother suggested she invite the two half sisters to Denmark, so they could see where their father came from. The thought seemed absurd to Ilka now, but she said nothing. She did promise to call and keep in touch, though, so they wouldn’t be so worried.
I’m family,” Ilka said as she leaned over the hospital reception counter. She showed her driver’s license, pointed to her last name, and explained that Amber Jensen was her sister. It turned out she’d been moved, first to surgery for an operation, then to a rehab ward.
“You’ll have to come back tomorrow,” a nurse said, after Ilka had finally found the right hallway and asked where she could find 10222C. “She’s already had visitors today, she needs to rest.”
“I’ll make it a very short visit.”
“Sorry.”
“I just need to give her some clean panties and a picture of her boyfriend, and then I’ll leave. She called and asked me to bring them.”
The nurse was unsympathetic. “She’s not allowed to wear her own panties. We provide clothing here.”
Ilka smiled at the nurse, a younger woman. “You know how it is, you feel healthier when you wear your own panties. And right now, Amber needs to feel she’s getting better.”
The nurse seemed to be thinking it over.
“And it would help her rehab if she had a picture of her boyfriend. It’s something for her to look forward to, motivation. You know how that is.”
Finally, the nurse relented and followed Ilka down the hallway. “Could I see his photo?” she asked, adding that she wouldn’t tell anyone about the panties.
Ilka stopped and fished around in her bag, relieved the nurse didn’t want to see the underwear. She had a photo of Flemming in her billfold, inside a clear plastic pocket, from when they’d just met. He looked good in his turtleneck sweater, with his dark hair swept back. She showed it to the nurse. Her Flemming, forced into the role of Amber’s boyfriend.
The nurse backed off a step. “That’s her boyfriend?” She made it sound as if she’d rather stay in the hospital than hurry home to him.
Ilka nodded. “He left his wife and small children to be with her. He’s incredibly rich, so even though he’s a lot older, you can’t blame her for going for it.”
The nurse nodded knowingly. Ilka stuck her billfold back in her bag. The nurse’s reaction had hurt, but it was true: He could have been Amber’s father. Very young father, but anyway.
“Don’t stay too long. She didn’t feel well after physical therapy today, so we gave her pain meds. She might be asleep.”
“I’ll make it quick.” The nurse showed her into what looked like a large hotel room, with a small sofa group by the window and a balcony door that was open a crack. A long, sheer curtain swayed. “Wow.”
The nurse smiled. “Wow is right. You can see why your family moved her to a private room. Unfortunately, not all of us have that option.”
Ilka closed the door when the nurse left. It didn’t surprise her that Raymond Fletcher took good care of his granddaughter. As well he should. He was the reason Amber lay there with a damaged hip and a serious concussion. Ilka walked over to the bed.
On the way to the hospital she’d worried that Mary Ann or Leslie would be there. Or even worse, Fletcher himself. She would have hurried away before anyone noticed her. But Amber was alone and awake. She sat up and stuffed the pillow behind her when her half sister walked in. Ilka helped her.
“How are you? Are you in pain?”
Amber nodded. She looked drowsy, but at least she was strong enough to sit all the way up. She reached for a glass of water and drank. “I’m glad you came, I was going to call you. You need to go out and check the horses.”
That sounded like an order. Ilka saw a bit of Amber’s grandfather behind her pale, tired face. “I can’t stand lying here without knowing they’re okay, even though everyone says they are.”
“But if the horses came back like they say, then they’re okay.”
Amber looked annoyed. “We can’t trust them. Right now, they’ll say anything to keep me from getting worked up.”
She reached out to Ilka and looked her straight in the eye. “We’re talking about horses worth millions of dollars. They’re my ticket out of Racine and my retirement too. I can’t just lie here not knowing if I’ve lost everything. I have a bad feeling about it, that’s all.”
“But I don’t see how I can be much help. I don’t know what to look for; I don’t know which horses are yours.”
“I’ll explain everything to you.”
“But what about the men working in the stable, can’t we call them?”
Amber let go of her hand. “I tried to call Tom, the stable foreman. He takes care of all the practical stuff, I take care of the horses. But he’s not answering. The horses must be looked after twenty-four hours a day. Somebody’s there; they have to be, and I need to know what’s going on. If all the horses are back. Please, will you please go out there?”
The look on Amber’s face was too much for Ilka. She promised to drive out to the ranch the minute she left the hospital.
“The others don’t need to know you’re doing this for me. Drive around back and use the door that leads out to the pasture.”
“Okay. But tell me, how are you feeling?”
“Forget about me, the horses are the important thing right now.”
Ilka had that figured out already. She pulled a chair over to the bed. “Actually, I came by to ask you what’s happened to our father’s ashes. They’re not in the house, I drove out and checked. The place is empty.”
At first Amber looked confused, but then she slid down a bit against the pillows. “The urn was on the mantel above the fireplace. Did they take it too?” Her voice sounded small.
Ilka nodded. Amber stared straight ahead. “Then he must have it.”
“Who?”
“Scott Davidson.”
“If he has it, I’ll get it back,” Ilka said.
“You can’t, don’t go out there!”
“Tell me about him. I’ve heard he’s a part owner of your stable.”
“Only the racetrack stable,” Amber said. “He helps run it, but he doesn’t own any part of our private stable or the horses we breed. He’s got nothing to do with the ranch.”
“What’s he like?”
“Strange. Scott’s always been a loner, even when he was a little kid. After the accident he lived with his grandfather, and he shut himself off from the world even more. He was about ten when it happened, I think. After I finished college I heard he was accepted at some fancy university, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“The accident?” Ilka straightened up.
Amber looked at her. “It was his parents whom Dad hit in the head-on collision.”
A bell rang in the hallway, and Ilka jumped. There was a draft in the room fr
om the open balcony door, and suddenly she felt cold. She rolled her sleeves down. “Our father killed his parents?” She barely recognized her own voice.
“He didn’t kill them. It was an accident, he lost control of the car. It was on a curve, and nobody knows really what happened. But you can’t say he killed them.”
“But that’s how you’d think if you’re only ten years old,” Ilka said.
“I don’t know how other people think,” Amber snapped. “After the accident, Grandpa became partners with Scott’s grandfather, Gerald Davidson. Probably to make sure everybody moved on after what happened. Davidson got a good deal. At the time he had two horses that were promising, but neither of them had qualified for any major race. He made a lot of money out of the partnership. Scott should thank Grandpa for the fortune he inherited, instead of fighting him. It’s a fight he’s going to lose.”
Ilka thought for a moment. “Why was the urn there at your mother’s?”
Amber had slid all the way down now, as if all this talk had exhausted her. “What do you mean?”
“Why were our father’s ashes on the mantel? Why wasn’t the urn buried?”
Ilka realized that sounded like a criticism, but before she could soften her words Amber shook her head and said her mother wanted it that way.
“But did she love him?”
Amber looked as if she didn’t understand the question. She shrugged. “I don’t know if she actually loved him. It’s been a long time since Mom felt strongly about anything. When I was a kid, she loved her garden. She always smelled a special way when she was out there snipping flowers and planting things in the beds. And she was happy when she came back in the house. Now that doesn’t happen much anymore, but that’s just who she is. She doesn’t go around clapping her hands and jumping for joy.”
Ilka walked over and closed the balcony door, then she glanced out in the hallway, but the nurse didn’t seem to be keeping an eye on the clock. She decided now was as good a time as any.
“I heard our father fought with your grandfather when Frank Conaway was arrested. And he tried to get the police to drop the charges. I can’t help it, I keep thinking he might have been killed.”
Amber raised up on her elbows and pulled herself back against the pillows. Ilka saw what was coming, and she hurriedly added, “I’m not saying your grandfather had him killed.”
“I’ve never heard that before,” Amber said. She sounded as if she took what Ilka said seriously. “I knew Dad wasn’t getting along with Grandpa, but they never really did get along.”
Ilka said she’d visited Maggie’s husband. She described the warmth in his voice when talking about Mary Ann, how magical she was, how beautifully she sang. Then she told Amber about Maggie and the letters.
Amber frowned and looked sharply at her half sister. “I don’t know anything about this.” She paused a moment. “Is it the letters, is that why you want the urn? To see if you can find something that would show he’d been killed?”
Ilka shrugged. Mostly she just wanted to get it back, but of course she could have the ashes examined. Though she doubted anything would come of it.
“Don’t go to see Scott Davidson,” Amber repeated. “If he has the urn, he won’t give it to you, and it could turn out bad for you. Even dangerous. You saw what he’s capable of when he came out and stole the horses. He attacked us, it got violent. But things might even be worse now, after Grandpa sent his men out to get the horses. Stay away from him.”
“Are you saying they might have killed somebody to get the horses back?” Ilka couldn’t believe her ears.
Amber shrugged in a way that told Ilka it was very possible. “I’m just trying to make you understand, this is serious. Grandpa won’t let anybody push him around. And he’ll push back hard if he has to.”
That Ilka could believe, even though it shook her to hear Amber make it sound like a necessary move. Something to be expected if you went up against Raymond Fletcher.
She stood up. “So what is it exactly you want me to look for in the stable? Do you want me to lead them out of the stalls, to see if they’ve been injured? I’m not so sure I could do that.”
Amber shook her head. “You don’t need to. At this moment, I just need to know if my horses are there. I’m worried about Tom not answering me.”
She grabbed a sheet of paper, her rehab schedule, and turned it over and drew an outline of the stable, with stalls on both sides. In each space representing a stall, she jotted down the color and markings of the horse that belonged there, without even having to pause to remember.
She handed the drawing to Ilka. “Go down to the south stable. Right now, the other buildings don’t matter. It’s these five horses I’m interested in. If you have time, and nobody sees you, try to find Tom and ask him why the hell he doesn’t answer. He knows I’ve been calling and sending him a bunch of messages. He can’t just ignore me this way. I’m afraid something’s happened and he doesn’t dare tell me.”
She wrote down his number at the bottom of the sheet. “If you don’t find him, call him. Maybe he’ll answer if it’s you.”
“I’ll find him.” Ilka was on her way out when she remembered about the car. “I need to borrow some money to drive out there for you, I’m low on gas. And I’m broke.”
“Didn’t Grandpa come see you?” So. Amber had sent him to her.
“Yes, but I had to use the money to pay bills.”
Amber had already grabbed her billfold from the drawer of her night table. She took out all the bills and handed them to Ilka. Four hundred seventy dollars. “Tell me when you need more. I’ll have them help me out to the ATM in the main hall.”
When Ilka reached the parking lot, the thought hit her: She should have warned Amber that someone might ask about her panties.
It took less than twenty minutes for her to drive from the hospital to Fletcher’s ranch. On the way she tanked up and bought a sandwich with some of the money Amber had given her, without feeling the slightest bit guilty. She still had four hundred dollars rolled up in her pocket, a nice little security blanket.
Ilka knew the road from the first time she’d been here, and she slowed down at the series of curves where she’d met the truck carrying the horses. The big pastures were on her right. Amber had told her to go past the ranch house entrance to the next curve; the driveway there ended behind the stables.
Tall trees on both sides of the road cast shadows onto the car when she turned in. According to Amber, the southern stable stood next to the pasture. Two cars were parked there, but Ilka drove by them and stopped beside a truck with the Fletcher and Davidson Race team logo on the door. She took the path around the building and immediately spotted Amber’s stable. Expanses of grass stretched out beyond it.
There was no one around, but she hurried around the corner of the stable and stopped at the sight of a small tractor parked at the next stable, where someone was mucking out the stalls. Quickly she opened the double Dutch door, and when she ducked inside she was surrounded by the familiar pleasant odor of horses. And silence. No sound of jaws munching on hay, muzzles sweeping the floor for food, tails flicking at flies. No sounds at all.
Ilka walked farther in. Was the stable really empty? The stalls were. She would have guessed the horses had been turned out to pasture, but Amber had explained they were never all outside at the same time. Too many injuries occurred when they ran around together, and these trotting horses were much too valuable to risk that.
She entered a stall and noted that it had been swept out. There was food in the trough, and the water bowl was clean but empty. She checked the stall on the other side; it looked the same. She closed her eyes and leaned against the stall bars, thinking of how to break the news to her half sister, how to explain it. The horses could have been moved to another stable. They could be under special surveillance. At worst they might be stabled at a vet clinic, in which case no one could blame Fletcher for not wanting to add to his granddaughter’s worries. She de
cided to try to find Tom.
Suddenly someone grabbed her shoulder and brutally jerked her around. Pain shot down her arm, and it took her a moment to recognize Jeff’s bitter face. She nearly stumbled in her struggle to keep up as he pulled her over to the stall door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled in her ear. “Who sent you?”
She wrenched her arm free, shoved him back, and yelled, “What’s wrong with you?” She rubbed her shoulder. “Amber asked me to come and check on her horses. She’s my half sister, and maybe you’ve forgotten because you’re so busy running around beating people up, but she’s in the hospital!” She was so mad that she almost slugged him.
“Where are they?” she said, pointing to the empty stalls.
“What are you doing here? This is a private stable, you’ve got no right sneaking in.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she shouted. “I just told you what I’m doing, and I have every right to be here, but I’ll gladly leave when you show me where Amber’s horses are.”
He took a step back and studied her. “Who sent you?” he asked again.
Ilka couldn’t believe her ears; hadn’t she already explained? “What is this, what’s the problem?”
He stared coldly at her. “You were at your father’s house when it was emptied out. You were here minutes after they stole the horses. You expect me to believe all that’s a coincidence, you didn’t know what was going on?”
Before she could answer, he slammed his forearm across her breasts, pressed her against the wall, and roared, “Are you in cahoots with Scott Davidson? Did he send you here? We’re watching you, we’ve seen that car following you. And you heard yourself, someone was up on the deck of my boat.”
It was more a reflex than anything, a reaction to the pain in her chest and her struggle to breathe, when she kneed him in the groin. For once she felt fortunate to be tall, because she’d obviously hit the perfect spot. He lay on his side, doubled over, and she threw herself on him and pressed her knee against his throat. She’d never hit anyone in her life, never been in a fight, but it all happened so fast that she didn’t have time to think. “What the hell do you mean, you’re watching me? Are you following me too?”
