Chapter 16
Jared sat on a bench and stared at Dan’s headstone. A man and woman had passed him on foot, and said hello, and he had watched them make their way to a grave at the far end, where they were now sitting. Other than them, the cemetery was deserted, which was not surprising at this early hour. The sun had just appeared over the mountains on the horizon, and a few wispy clouds glowed orange. A cool breeze rustled the needles in the pines. A crow cawed and another answered.
He leaned forward. “I don’t know what Tara’s gonna do. I wish I had a way of making her trust me again. She’s still got it—I love her and there isn’t a thing I can do about that. She’s the one—the only one I want to spend my life with. She keeps saying she’s gonna go back to Arizona, and I don’t know what I’ll do if that comes about. I’m worried about her safety, too. I called that detective—Moore—and told him about the horses. He said he’d go see her. The local Hardship sheriff’s office has been notified, but there was nothing they could do. They came out and interviewed Jules, Christy, and Roberto, but the horses were fine by then.
“If the killer is also doing whatever it is he does to make the horses become difficult to handle, that means he can move around in Hardship without anyone noticing him. That has to mean people know him. What if I know him? What if I work for him sometimes or see him in the bar?”
Jared’s fists clenched. “I look at everyone—everyone I meet and think to myself is he the killer? And what if he was the one who killed you? That would mean it was my fault that you died.” He punched his palm. “Dammit, Dan, everything is still so fucked up.”
Jared sat back. He thought about Kaitlyn. What if the killer saw her walking on the backroads and grabbed her?
“That’s enough of a rant. On a different note, I tried again to get Alan Preston to let me show him how good I can be for his business—he’s making the components for scientific instruments for a big outfit in Dallas. I could make good money doing the CAD drawings for him, but no—he still doesn’t trust me. He still thinks I’m an ex-con—end of story. That asshole Trevors from Austin is doing all of it and I know he charges a heck of a lot more than he should. Preston doesn’t seem to care.”
Jared noticed a young woman kneeling in front of a headstone not too far from him, placing fresh flowers in a vase.
He stood. “That’s enough for now. Gotta go, buddy. I’ll see you next time.”
On his way to his first job, a green car careened around a corner without stopping, tires squealing and racing past him, going in the opposite direction. That was Mrs. P’s Mazda, I’d bet my life on it, but it sure wasn’t her driving. Jared made a hasty U-turn and sped toward where it had gone.
He caught up with the vehicle after several minutes and followed it as it turned onto side roads and dusty backroads. He wondered if Mrs. P’s car had been stolen, and he was thankful there was hardly any traffic in this quiet neighborhood, He caught up with his quarry when it had to stop for a herd of cows crossing the dirt road, throwing up a cloud of dust in their wake. He threw the gears into park and strode to the open window on the driver’s side.
A burly man who was behind the wheel glared at him. “Looking for something?” he growled. His face was mostly hidden by a bushy black beard, and a camouflage cap was pulled down so low over his head it was difficult to make eye contact.
Jared leaned in through the window. “Isn’t this Mrs. P’s vehicle?”
“She asked me to fix it and I’m taking it for a run to see if it’s okay. You have a problem with that?”
“No. Do I know you?”
“No.” He pushed his foot down on the accelerator and wove through the last of the cows. Jared cursed as he watched the vehicle turn and disappear from sight. “Asshole!”
He wondered why Mrs. P had someone else fixing her vehicle now, when she had always called him to do so. He’d have to ask her. Maybe she could tell him more about the dude, too. He wasn’t very friendly.
Chapter 17
Tara changed into her jeans and boots. When she came out again, the therapy session was starting, and Christy and the five volunteers were helping children onto the horses. Two were in wheelchairs. She remembered her mom had some clients with cerebral palsy and multiple sclerosis. They loved to ride so much. She wondered again why Kaitlyn’s foster mom didn’t let her ride. She obviously wanted to. She would have to find out, and if money was the problem, she would pay for Kaitlyn herself.
Tara caught Brown Sugar and gave her a quick brush before saddling her up. She pushed her foot into the stirrup and mounted, adjusted the stirrup length again and made sure the girth was tight, and squeezed with her legs. Brown Sugar walked out through the gate to the Andersons’ farm and Tara urged the mare into a trot, and then a canter down the sandy road.
God, it feels so good to ride again. She stroked he mare’s neck, smiled, and held on when she spooked and pranced sideways at a rabbit that frantically hopped under a bush. It had been three years but horse riding was like bike riding.
When she reached the airfield the Andersons had used for their crop sprayers, she gave the horse her head and was thrilled to feel the power as they accelerated into a full gallop, her hair streaming out behind her and tears blowing across her cheeks from the wind.
All the tensions melted out of her and she laughed out loud. Thank you so much, Aunt Lacey, for keeping Sugar for me. I know you probably don’t think I appreciate it but I really do. Nothing in the world can match this feeling.
The thoughts of Aunt Lacey brought sadness and she slowed to a walk and patted the mare’s lathered neck.
She rode across a few other farms. She hadn’t forgotten which gates were unlocked, and it seemed like time had stood still and nothing much had changed. The Abbots were growing grass for hay, which was like a sea of yellow, and ready to be cut. Josh Madson was on the tractor plowing. She waved as she rode past.
She glanced at her watch and then at the sun, which was low on the horizon. Time to start heading back. She loosened the reins and relaxed in the saddle, enjoying the rhythmic motion of the mare’s hoofbeats as she moved at a comfortable walk. A few white, fluffy clouds floated in a deep blue sky and a breeze helped to cool her. A dove made its mournful cry from a tall tree, and two cardinals chased each other, their red plumage bright in the late-day sunshine. She hadn’t relaxed like this in ages.
When she arrived back at the ranch, a tall, gangly teenager with a mouth full of braces grabbed Sugar’s reins. “I can rub her down and put her in the stall for you, Miss Tara-Grace.”
Tara thanked her and stared after the horse for a few minutes, thinking about how much Cassie had loved to ride.
Jules had gone home, and Christy, who was heading for her car, waved and yelled, “Bye, Tara. Hope you had a good ride.” She was the kind of person you couldn’t help liking.
Tara stayed around until all the horses had been put away and Roberto had fed them. They all seemed to be calm and relaxed. “I’ll feed the dogs from now on,” she said. “And the cat.” Their food was kept in the same feed room as the horse’s. It smelled of bran, molasses, and alfalfa. She dipped the measure into the bin and poured the dry food into their bowls, and carried them out to the rec center. The dogs followed her, wagging their tails, and buried their noses into the food and ate greedily. She would place the cat food in the house where the dogs wouldn’t be able to steal it.
Tara checked to make certain the rec center and the exterior office door were locked up, and made her way into the house.
She set the cat food down beside the water bowl, pulled off her boots and socks, and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. The message light on the landline phone was blinking.
Chapter 18
Tara held her breath as she tapped the message key and heard Detective Moore’s voice. “I’m sorry to have missed you, but we’d like to come ov
er again and meet with you to discuss any potential new leads. We heard you’ve had some problems with the horses out there.”
She blew out a long breath. Hearing his voice was like seeing a ghost. She hated the way it made her weak and shaky. How did they know about the horses? A knock on the back door made her jump.
She set the beer down, telling herself to stay calm. The dogs hadn’t barked. She peered through the small glass window in the door and opened it.
“I was just leaving after checking the well pump, and I thought I’d stop and say hey,” Jared said.
Tara’s stomach fluttered. “Come on in. There’s beer in the refrigerator.”
She watched as he took a beer out, popped the cap, and leaned against the kitchen counter. He looked so sexy. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.
“Have you heard from Detective Moore?” He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long drink.
“Yeah. As a matter of fact, he came here while I was out this morning. We’ve been playing phone tag, but how . . ..”
“I called him and told him about the horses going crazy. Someone’s messing with them for a reason and I was worried about your safety.”
Tara hugged herself. “You’re scaring me now, Jared.”
“We have to face the facts. We don’t know why the murderer did what he did. We don’t know if he had a beef against your parents or me only, or if he—assuming it’s a dude—has been waiting for his chance to hurt you.”
Tara held her hands out, palms upward. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I called Moore. I’ve made a spreadsheet of all the potential suspects—everyone that was interviewed by the cops, their alibis or why they were dropped as suspects. I’ve added anyone I could think of who could have known your parents for any reason, including the families of patients who’ve been treated here. Jules and Christy helped me with that—and no, they didn’t give me any private information.
“I’ve also put the names of anyone who might have a beef against me. I’ve tried to match them up—to find some kind of common link or motive. I know—I’m fucking sure the killer’s name is on my list.” He took a long pull of his beer. “I’ll send it to you, and maybe we could go through it together sometime.”
“What about the random home invasion theory?” Tara asked. She didn’t want to sit down with Jared and start looking at an extensive database tonight.
“Where would a junkie find the key? How would he know where it is and have it copied? That key under the flower pot was still there after the murders.”
“That’s how I got into the house yesterday. I still have the key. I put it on my car key chain. What does Moore think about it?”
“I haven’t spoken to him much recently until now. I don’t exactly feel comfortable around him, but your safety is what we have to think about now. There’s a killer out there and he might have been waiting for the day you come home.”
“Cory thinks the killer is long gone.”
“No way. This dude is sly like a fox. I don’t believe anyone who could set me up and commit a double murder in such a diabolical way is going to just walk away and forget about it. This is a sociopath, and I think he’s probably madder than hell that I’m out of prison, but it’s you he wants, or he would have made a move against me before now. No doubt in my mind. I hate to scare you with this, but I think he wants to hurt you, and if you meet up with Moore, I want to be with you, okay?”
Tara lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”
“Give me your cell phone.” He held his hand out. “I’ll add me to your contacts.”
As he tapped the keys, he said, “Did you really mean what you said? In court? About me being so bad?”
Tara felt herself jerk. She had said some vicious things, and perhaps they weren’t warranted, but his betrayal had shocked her to the core. “I did at the time.”
“But not now? Tell me you don’t think of me that way anymore.” He scraped a hand through his hair, a gesture she had once known so well.
Her pulse jumped and she felt her face getting hot. “I—I don’t know what to think. I’ve only been here two days and so much has happened—everything’s changed.”
She could smell him—that stirring man smell—and feel the pull of his eyes and her body’s response.
He stared at her face in the dull light, and said in a husky voice, “I’ve never stopped loving you, Tara.”
Her chest heaved. Her body ached with want. “It’s too soon, Jared. Too much has happened.”
“I can understand it must have been a shock to see me, but you—or thoughts of you—are all that kept me going in prison. Even after those harsh words, I knew you didn’t really mean them. I knew you were traumatized and not thinking straight.” He smiled that lazy smile that she had loved so much, but it didn’t touch his eyes. They still held that hardness in them. “You be sure to lock up well tonight, and call Moore again, and then call me.” He drained his beer and set the bottle on the counter.
Tara took a deep breath and tried to smooth her hair. “Goodnight, Jared.” She locked the door behind him and walked on wobbly legs into the living room, where she collapsed onto the carpet. She couldn’t hold back the tears now. She cried hard, painful, gut-wrenching sobs.
She cried for Aunt Lacey. Why hadn’t she supported her when she needed it the most?
She cried for her parents—wonderful, gentle people who never hurt anyone in their lives. Why did they have to die like that? She missed them so much and wished she could have one more hug.
She cried for Cassie—poor Cassie. Where was she? Had someone hurt her? Surely if she was free to come home, she would have done so? If only they could have stopped her from leaving—if they could have held on to her somehow. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be.
Jared had looked so sad despite his smile. Why had she not believed him when he said he didn’t do it? How could she have turned on him and betrayed him and said such horrible things to him? What did it feel like for him being on death row and thinking he was going to die alone? And he lost his brother while he was there. He’d loved Dan so much. Poor, poor Jared.
And what was she going to do with the Center? She’d never run a business before and there was so much she was suddenly responsible for—the employees, the horses, the patients.
And now on top of all that, she was in danger. It all just sucked so badly.
She didn’t stop sobbing until her throat hurt and she had no more tears to cry. She hauled herself up, blew her nose, and splashed cold water on her face. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself and poured herself a glass of wine while she hunted for something to eat. She found a packet of Saltine crackers and went out to the porch, where she sank onto the swing seat.
The sun had sunk low on the horizon and one long thread of a cloud hovered over its center and was changing from gold to red. A few crickets had started chirping, and the distant drone of an airplane mingled with a low rumble of thunder.
When she had finished the whole packet of crackers, she locked the glass slider, went inside, and poured herself another glass of wine. She called the detective’s number with trembling hands. It rang three times and she was about to end the call when he answered.
“Moore, here.”
“Detective, this is Tara Ericson. I hope this isn’t too late for you.” She looked at her watch. Eight forty-nine. “You came to the Taurus Center today and left a message for me to call.”
“Yeah. Thank you for calling back, Ms. Ericson. Mr. White called with some concerns for your safety and we need to set up a time to meet with you. When will you be available?”
“I don’t have any plans to go out tomorrow. I have a lot of administrative work to do here, but I can make time for your visit.”
“Shall w
e say ten in the morning? We’ll meet you at your home.”
“Yes. I think that’ll work.”
She picked up her cell phone, scrolled to Jared’s number, and sent him a text.
Chapter 19
“Well, we”—Jared glanced at Tara—“like I told you, someone’s messing with the horses, and we’re wondering if this could be related to the murders. Have you had anything—any leads at all since I was released?”
They were sitting at one of the tables on the patio at the Taurus Center. Detective Moore, tall, with graying brown hair and deep green eyes, scratched his cheek. Garcia, short with dark buzz-cut hair, who had been introduced as Moore’s new partner, shifted in his seat. “We haven’t . . .”
“Managed to find anything concrete yet,” Moore finished his sentence and gave him a warning glance.
Jared gave a wry laugh. “I guess you still find it hard to believe it wasn’t me who did it.” Neither detective said anything. “Well, I didn’t, and someone is out there—a murderer.” He sat back in his chair.
“What do you think, Ms. Ericson?” Garcia asked. “We’ve looked at everyone on Mr. White’s list that you and he agreed on originally, and he sent us a copy of his database. Any new ideas?”
Tara shook her head. “I don’t have anyone in mind. I haven’t had a chance to go through Jared’s spreadsheet yet.” She looked into Moore’s eyes. “You interviewed everyone I would have thought of, but now . . .”
“She’s had these problems with the horses.” Jared sat forward in his chair and held his hands palm upward. “I told you—someone is messing with them.” He sighed. “It’s hard to explain, but when a horse that’s known for its placid temperament suddenly goes crazy for no apparent reason, you think you’ve overlooked something. But when it happens again to a different horse, and then a third time, something is wrong.”
Tempestuous Taurus Page 7
