“I’ll be damned,” Wolf muttered. He wasn’t usually this slow on the uptake but then he’d never experienced or cared to experience a reenactment. If a cavalry scene were involved, no doubt Kylah and this horse were going to be a part of that.
He ignored Jake’s snort of amusement at his expense and watched as Kylah walked toward them with a long, steady stride. She held out the reins to Jake and took those of the sorrel he’d brought in to her.
“He worked well today,” Jake commented.
Kylah ran one hand down the dark brown neck. “Very well. I think he’s pretty much ready to go.” She gave Wolf one long glance, then led the second horse back into the arena.
Wolf suspected he’d been dismissed, but he didn’t plan on going anywhere. Not yet. He settled onto the bleachers and watched as she walked, trotted, then slow-loped circles to warm the horse’s muscles.
A glimpse of movement in the seating below pulled his attention from her for a moment. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see the black cat winding his way upward.
He sensed when Kylah was nearing the end of the warm-up period. She gathered the reins with a light hand before leaning her shoulders forward, where as before, she’d sat with hips forward and back straight. This time in response to whatever subtle signal she gave, instead of a slow roll-over, this horse reared straight up, pawing toward the high domed ceiling. When those front hooves hit the ground hard in a full-on run, Wolf’s heart thudded, even though he’d known to expect something.
The cat, which had reached the section where he was sitting, leapt to the space beside him. He sat on his haunches and turned his gaze to the arena below where Kylah had stopped her horse and sat motionless, the horse equally motionless beneath her.
* * *
Kylah had learned long ago to focus on the here and now. Soon after Marty’s death, within days, to be more precise. It was that ability to disappear into her work that had saved her. If she hadn’t learned to ground herself, to put toxic thoughts away for periods of time, she would never have made it through.
Despite Dean Edmunds brushing aside this morning’s death as accidental, Kylah suspected it was anything but. Throughout the morning, activity around the fairground had both heated up and cooled down. The presence of investigators had faded into the background as reenactors swarmed in, jockeying for the best parking spots for their campers and RV’s. Faded but not disappeared. But with a job to do, Kylah pushed thoughts of police officers and ambulances with red whirling lights aside.
The arena, at least, was quiet and cool and almost empty. There would be reenactors with horses but those were not stunt animals and would have to be proven gun safe. She was not a reenactor and her horses were trained far beyond remaining calm in the face of gunfire.
Dismounting, she leaned her face into her horse’s neck, breathing in the clean warmth of him. She could feel the steady gaze from the bleachers but she didn’t glance up, as if by ignoring the sexy as hell man who watched her, he wouldn’t exist. Like the mouse in the Christmas tree. The thought made her smile with a memory. It had been their first Christmas. First together, ever, first as a married couple. Their courtship had been whirlwind fast.
She’d suspected the mouse had come in with the tree, even ridden with it on some truck loaded with spruce and driven miles on stretches of interstate from the mountains. The tiny creature was tucked into the branches, back pressed against the trunk, and it was the first time she’d understood the phrase still as a mouse. The little creature was motionless, with its eyes closed tight. She told Marty, “He thinks if he can’t see me, then I can’t see him.” Marty had laughed and agreed. They’d managed to capture the frightened creature in a paper sack and turned it loose together at the edge of the little woods that backed their yard. Marty had put his arm around her in the chill night air and squeezed tight. She could close her eyes and see the woods, the stars glittering above, even smell his favorite aftershave. But no matter how much she tried, she could no longer recall the exact sound of his voice. That terrified her.
Shaking off the moment and the fear, she led the horse from the arena.
By the time she reached the roll-up door, Wolf Stockton was waiting for her, the black cat at his heels. She acknowledged them both with a glance and forced herself to smile. Then forced herself not to growl, when he matched his longer stride to hers.
“How long have you been doing that?” It was the kind of question that most often came with interviews. She could have answered in her sleep.
“Which aspect? Riding? Since I was capable of climbing on a pony when my parents weren’t watching. Stunt riding?” She paused, thinking. “Twelve or so, as soon as I was strong enough to put a stunt saddle on one of my dad’s animals without help.”
“Which I interpret to mean he didn’t consider you old enough or he would have helped you.”
“Not old enough. Not strong enough. Not skilled enough.”
“You proved him wrong?”
She snorted. “No, I proved him right with a broken arm.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes before he said, “But you got back on.”
She stopped and looked at him. “Why are you here?”
If he was startled by her blunt question, he hid it well. “Well, first off we’ve got the issue of the cat to settle.”
“No, we don’t. He’s not mine.”
He glanced down at the cat who had stopped when they stopped and waited on his haunches as they talked. “I don’t think he agrees with you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s table the first issue. What’s next?”
“I saved your life. That makes me responsible for you.”
“I’m not Chinese and I doubt you are either,” she retorted, proving she’d heard the same proverb he had at some point in her life. “Besides, who was trying to kill me?”
“I’m not sure you weren’t.”
His voice had softened, lost its playfulness. Unexpected tears burned her eyes. She turned, tugging on the reins in her hands as a flash of anger swept her at his words. No one saw her cry. Not even Jake, although he saw a lot of the other messy aspects of her life.
She didn’t lose the man, or the cat, as she strode past though she planned to rid herself of his presence the moment they reached the barn. Yes, she found him startlingly attractive, something she hadn’t let herself notice in men in a long time. The fact that she’d noticed this man was more alarming than it was welcome. But, no, he wasn’t welcome in her life.
She stepped onto the gravel drive between the barns and the covered arena then heard the roar of an engine and tires sliding on rock. In the same moment she felt Wolf pushing her behind him. Her first frantic thought was the safety of her horse and she leaned her body into the muscles of his shoulder to keep him from moving forward into the path of the vehicle.
Rocks spewed out from under the oversized tire closest to her and she felt a sharp sting on her cheekbone. Her gasp drew a quick look and a hard curse from Wolf. She didn’t need to raise her hand to her face to know there was a trickle of blood.
The young woman who opened the door and flung herself from behind the wheel of the truck stumbled as she whirled, scanning the jumble of vehicles around her. Her frantic gaze fell on Kylah and Wolf. “The sheriff! I was told he was here!”
Wolf pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll get him. Is someone hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
“I don’t know what I need.” Her words came out in harsh gasps. “I don’t know what’s happened. I need to find Maisy! There’s a barricade at our camp.” Tears leaked from her eyes.
Kylah’s heart sank. Maisy McGuire was the murder victim and this woman was somehow connected to her. Beside her, she could hear Wolf talking to the sheriff.
Wolf put away his phone. “The sheriff is close and on his way.” He looked at Kylah. “Could we all step into your trailer?”
So much for getting rid of him, she thought, handing her horse off to Jake
who waited at the barn entrance. She led the way to her living quarters and didn’t even sigh as the black cat followed them in. Her life seemed to have taken a very weird turn and she wasn’t sure how much to blame on pure happenstance and how much to lay at her own door.
As they waited for the sheriff, she started the coffeemaker. Neither new nor fancy, it made the best coffee. She wasn’t surprised when Wolf took his black and unsweetened. Their eyes met as she handed him a cup and she saw his discomfort with the situation they shared, knowing the young woman’s friend was dead and not knowing if they should be the ones to tell her. So, they hadn’t.
Her name was Ella, she’d told them, Ella Necaise. After that she’d fallen silent, twisting and untwisting the plain copper bracelet on her wrist. Even seated, she was tall, with dark hair and uneven features that were more attractive than they should have been, particularly given the fact that her face was bare of any type of makeup. She declined Kylah’s offer of coffee with a quick shake of her head.
Because it was too painful to watch her, Kylah focused on the black cat who had made himself comfortable on the small steps that led up to her sleeping area. He met her look without blinking until a sharp rap on the door heralded the sheriff’s arrival.
Opening the door, Kylah stepped over to sit beside the cat on the steps and the sheriff took her spot leaning against the counter of the kitchenette. He looked from Kylah to Wolf to Ella, then back to Kylah.
“What happened to you?” he barked.
She raised a hand to her cheek where his gaze had landed. She’d forgotten about the cut. “A rock. It was an accident.”
He stared a moment more, then looked at Ella who was staring at the cut on Kylah’s face, “You knew Maisy McGuire?”
The blood drained from the other woman’s face, leaving her sickly white. The sheriff’s tone had been quiet and not unkind but Kylah wished he’d chosen his words more carefully. Ella’s eyes filled with pain. “What happened to her? What happened to Maisy?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “She was murdered.” And for that, Kylah knew, there was no easy way to convey.
Ella shook her head dazedly. She closed her eyes for a brief moment as tears seeped from beneath her lashes. “I don’t believe you. I don’t! No one would hurt Maisy.” With a shuddering breath, she looked from one to the other of them.
“Do you know her family? We haven’t been able to contact anyone. We need someone to confirm her identity.”
“Her family disowned her years ago. Me and Maisy … we’re partners.”
Kylah caught on quicker than either Wolf or the sheriff. Not working partners, although perhaps that, too. Life partners. Best friends and more. She sighed, feeling a familiar weight of sadness.
Ella got to her feet. “I’ll go with you. I’ll –” Her voice cracked and stopped.
As she stood facing the sheriff, he asked, “When was the last time you saw Ms. McGuire?”
Ella’s head dropped. “Last night. Late. We had a stupid argument over something that never mattered anyway. I slept in my truck at a rest stop and came back to apologize.”
The sheriff put his hat back on his head. “After we go to the …” He stopped. “Later we can go by my office and you can help with some questions.”
“Yes. Of course.” She looked numb.
As the door closed behind them, Wolf looked across at Kylah. “I think Ms. Necaise just became a suspect.”
Chapter Five
I feel compelled to show Mr. Wolf Stockton those footprints if they haven’t already been obliterated through lackadaisical management of the crime scene. Were I in charge, much more of the area would have been cordoned off. Not that the crime scene investigators broke protocol – they didn’t – they met all requirements. Just barely.
I haven’t yet determined if Wolf is a member of law enforcement but he has an air about him that points that way even though he is not in uniform. I can but hope the prints are still at least somewhat intact. But how I accomplish getting Wolf to accompany me is going to be a bit tricky. He may prove much more interested in remaining here to chat up the stunt lady. I must see how persuasive I can be.
Like Wolf, I believe that Ms. Ella is now a suspect, at least as far as the law is concerned, and her size does not rule her out when matched with my recall of the prints in the soft soil of the hollow where the deed was done. She is statuesque, not dainty, with a solid foundation in those lace-up boots she wore. It is unfortunate those lace-ups left no discernable tracks in the gravel of the road, no treads I could capture mentally to use for comparison.
It takes me a moment to get Wolf away from Kylah and moving in the proper direction. At his insistence, she washed the cut caused by the rock and applied some sort of antiseptic before opening the door with the comment that she has work yet to do.
Sure enough, Jake awaits her exit with yet another saddled horse. It is clear to me that he knows her well enough to discern her next move will be back to work.
A growl and a nip or two at denim clad legs and a resolute circling of some comfortable looking boots that didn’t come from any bargain store and I’m pleased to have Wolf following at my heels.
* * *
Wolf felt ridiculous. There was no other word for it. He was following a cat through the line of trees beyond the last scattered outbuildings on the fairgrounds. But there was also little doubt in Wolf’s mind that the cat had herded him with deliberate intent. Wolf just wasn’t sure to what end.
As curious as he was, his mind was still halfway back with Kylah West. She intrigued him even as he reminded himself that her life wasn’t here and she’d be gone within a week or two. He also reminded himself that, except for an occasional one-night stand, his own life worked far better without a woman in it.
He gathered his thoughts back to the cat in front of him as they broke through a stand of trees at the base of a small hill. The first thing he saw was the barricade tape, fluttering in the soft breeze. The second thing was one of the sheriff’s deputies glaring at his approach.
Recognizing Wolf, the other man relaxed. “Stockton. What the hell you doing out here?”
Might as well be honest. “Following the cat.”
“Huh?”
“He pretty much herded me in this direction. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” See, Wolf told himself. Ridiculous. The whole thing.
The deputy gave him a blank look, probably suspecting a joke. “Sheriff bringing you in on this?”
“Seems so. Thought I might as well take a look around while the area is secure.”
He watched as the cat gave the deputy a dismissive glance then circled him and the barricade to the other side. Wolf was given one backwards glance and a chastising yowl. He shrugged at the deputy and followed the cat a short distance away, stopping where the cat stopped. He glanced down. “So far, you are a significant amount of trouble.”
The cat grumbled a purr, then sat. He looked up at Wolf then down at the ground in front of him. When Wolf made a move forward, he hissed, and Wolf took a backward step, taking a closer look at the ground. At their obvious scrutiny, the deputy joined them, studying the faint prints along with Wolf. “Could belong to anyone. Dozens of reenactors already wandering these grounds.”
“Yep.” Wolf pulled out his cell phone.
“I’m sure the crime scene techies or whatever they call themselves these days took pictures.”
“Yep.” Wolf took several stills of the prints, then made a video of their approach to the barricaded area, including two disturbed spaces side by side within inches of the table. It looked as if casts had been made. He hadn’t missed the paint outline of the deceased behind that table. It would appear the forensics experts deduced the killer had stood there but at what point? As he pulled the trigger? Afterward, as he approached his victim? Wolf knew he needed to review the crime scene report as fast as Sheriff Mitchell could get his hands on it.
Wolf wandered the exterior of the barricade, taking se
veral more shots of footprints. None were as defined as the first set which appeared to be made while the ground was still damp with morning dew. And none but the first set had drawn the cat’s interest. Wolf didn’t even like where his own mind was going with that thought.
He stepped back to take a panoramic scan of those before he slid his phone away and looked down at the cat. “Come on, Trouble.” It was as good a name as any, and he couldn’t keep calling him cat.
* * *
I like a nice, obedient human, not to mention one intelligent enough to make a logical deduction regarding my name. Not the first time this has happened, mind you, but always gratifying. As we make our way back to the fairground proper, Wolf gives me a look. “Well, what’s it to be? I’m headed for the lake and fishing. Are you going with me or staying here?”
Hmmm. This requires a bit of thought. It’s been a busy morning but must now be nearing or just past the noon hour and more than time for a meal. I think it dubious that Kylah has anything of interest in that home on wheels of hers. Will she be safe enough with this Jake who seems as much friend as employee? At least for the daylight hours with all its hustle and bustle? I believe it would behoove me to wander further afield with this bloke. I’ve gleaned from his exchange with the deputy guarding the crime scene that he is, indeed, a lawman with ties to the murder investigation. Now that we have a relationship, as it were, he could be a good source of information for me. Beyond that, a human fishing expedition could provide the enticing possibility of a nice fish fillet.
I will return by dark to resume lending Kylah my protection – at least until this murder is solved. In all honesty, I don’t know that she’s in any true danger from either the killer or her own reckless behavior. Last night seems an aberration in her typical day. Even so, I feel I can be of more use here than with my own beautiful human, at least for now.
The Trouble with Horses Page 44
