Unfinished Business: Kovak & Quaid Horse Mystery Series (Kovak & Quaid Horse Mysteries Book 3)

by Toni Leland

  Dixie’s reply was unintelligible to Kim, but Dana smiled with a pleasure only shared between two people who adored each other.

  Dana sliced through the tape on Kim’s wrists. “You okay? They rough you up any?”

  Kim shook her head, then gasped with the resulting pain. “Smacked me in the head when they grabbed me at the apartment, but I’m okay.” She rubbed her wrists as she watched Dana cut through the tape around her ankles. “How did you find me?”

  “APB went out minutes after Dixie heard the commotion at your place. A traffic cam in Columbus picked up the vehicle downtown, just before the entrance ramp for 71.” She glanced at the vehicle. “Pig like this is easy to spot.”

  Kim eased herself off the back deck of the vehicle and wobbled a bit. “Thanks, Dana.”

  Dexton’s brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “Don’t thank me. Dixie’s your guardian angel.”

  Over the deputy’s shoulder, Kim saw a Franklin County car roll up behind the other cruisers. A second later, Dixie strode toward them, her face a mask of concern.

  She grabbed Kim and hugged her hard, then stepped back. “Are you okay? Jesus, Kim, you’ve got to stop chasing criminals.” She wasn’t smiling. “I’m serious – you’re not a cop anymore.”

  Kim started to bristle, then reality kicked in and she nodded. “I know. I will.” She turned to look at the two men being stuffed into a squad car. “Who are these guys, anyway?”

  Both Dana and Dixie frowned. “We were hoping you could tell us.”

  Chapter 53

  Dixie delivered Kim back to her condo well after midnight. A thorough exam by the EMT, followed by a trip to the Delaware County Sheriff’s office to give a statement had taken over three hours.

  As they climbed the stairs, Dixie said, “How’s the head?”

  “Better. Whatever that EMT gave me is golden.” Kim opened the door and hesitated, overcome by a replay of the last time she’d entered her home. “Dixie, they were waiting inside my house. This is gettin’ real old.”

  Dixie closed the door behind them. “And you’re still not carrying your weapon. Don’t you think it’s about time to get past that stumbling block?”

  Kim started to nod, then shook her head no.

  But Dixie wasn’t having any of it. “Garrett and I want to help you with that. We can all go to the practice range and work together.” She took Kim’s hand and squeezed it. “Honey, this is important. You are a trouble magnet and it’s only a matter of time before someone takes you out. If you’re going to play with the big boys, you need to be on the same field.”

  “But I’m done with all that. I promised Garrett I’d stay out of trouble.”

  Dixie barked a laugh. “You can no more do that than fly to the moon. And speaking of Garrett, I’d better call him. He was plenty worried.” She hugged Kim. “I need to go now. I’m off tomorrow and have to finish packing. But first I need some sleep.”

  “I’ll come help you with the packing.” Kim’s throat tightened. “Thank you again for rescuing me.”

  As she watched the door close, her eyes brimmed with tears. Who will be here to save me next time? Maybe this day was a turning point, a time to take charge. She would spend the next few days organizing some photography work and taking care of personal matters, then look for a part-time job. Preferably something that didn’t involve bad guys.

  ~ ~

  Quaid let out a sharp sigh of relief. “Thanks, Dix. I’ll give her a call.”

  Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling while he replayed the story of Kim’s kidnapping and rescue. Though he still felt responsible for drawing her into a situation that resulted in the incident, he justified himself with the thought that no one could have known how dangerous Vivica Wheeler might be. He frowned. Actually, he had no idea if Wheeler was responsible for the kidnapping. Maybe this really was something to do with the theft ring, although from Kim’s story about Scottsdale, if Wheeler were dealing in stolen imported horses, then Charles Léon could be behind tonight’s debacle. And Kim had seen the quarantine barn. Wheeler’s barn helper would surely have mentioned that detail.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. And now Kim was hell-bent on getting her Egyptian friend’s horses back to her. Another chance to get into trouble.

  Though it was late, he dialed Kim’s number. Her soft, husky ‘hello’ sent a bump through his pulse.

  “How you doin? Did I wake you?”

  “No, I’m having a bowl of Cheerios. That burger we had at five o’clock is long gone.”

  He chuckled. “I did the same thing, except I ate Coco Puffs.” He waited a beat before continuing. “Any idea what this abduction was all about?”

  “I can only guess it has something to do with the horse thefts. I’m on everyone’s radar now, so showing up at Wheeler’s barn was probably a stupid move.”

  “I’m not touching that statement. Did the cops find out who those guys were?”

  “Apparently, they’re local thugs with a string of petty arrests, mostly for strong-arm stuff. I asked Dana to see if she could find a connection to Wheeler or Barevsky.”

  “Can’t you just leave it alone? You are headed for an early grave, and you just keep diving back into the fray.”

  Kim let out an audible sigh. “I know, I just can’t help myself. But I think tonight’s adventure might finally be the wake up call I needed.”

  Quaid snorted. “You mean being shot, pistol-whipped, and trapped in a burning barn in the last eight months weren’t enough?”

  “Seems stupid, doesn’t it?” Her voice changed slightly, sounding hesitant. “You know, you never did tell me your suspicion about Vivica Wheeler.”

  Quaid closed his eyes. Should he go there? It was only an idea, but a serious one and nothing he could prove. What the hell.

  “Wheeler manages all the charity work for that church, has done so for over fifteen years. They think she walks on water, but I think she’s skimming money from the donations.”

  “Wow, I never even considered that possibility. But, wouldn’t someone notice?”

  “Not this group. They trust her completely, have known her all her life. She has the perfect story – poor family on the outskirts of town, alcoholic father, dysfunctional mother. Poor little Vivi pulled herself up by her bootstraps and made a life for herself with the church. Not a soul knows about her horse operation, so no one would question where she got that kind of money.”

  “That’s just mindboggling. So, if she’s stealing all that money, why would she bother with insurance fraud?”

  “Greed. Pure and simple. Those horses and that life feed her ego, make her important. She’ll do whatever she has to in order to keep that dream alive.”

  Kim was silent for a moment, then, “What are you going to do about your suspicion?”

  “Nothing I can do, short of blowing the whistle on her. But I could get into a heap of hurt with United Equine if I get involved in a client’s private life.”

  “Yeah, I see what you’re saying ...maybe something else will trip her up. Dishonest people usually get what’s coming to them.” Kim’s tone changed. “So, what’s the final verdict on the dead foals?”

  “I still can’t find a common denominator, other than mildly elevated insulin levels in blood work on all but the most recent one. I have no proof that the deaths were anything other than natural. That will have to be my report.”

  ~ ~

  Kim hung up, pondering Garrett’s dilemma. Surely there was a way to determine if those babies had been purposely killed with a large dose of insulin. She still couldn’t imagine why Wheeler would do such a thing. Greed was as good a reason as any, but surely the woman wouldn’t destroy the product of over a year’s effort to produce the birth. Arabian horses were valuable, even in today’s economy. Why throw away perfectly good inventory?

  Weariness crawled over her. Maybe tomorrow she could come up with some ideas. For now, all she wanted was sleep. A tremor passed through her chest. If I can sleep without drea
ming about dying. In the deepest recesses of her mind, she knew this wasn’t over. She’d never be completely safe again, always be looking over her shoulder.

  Chapter 54

  Late morning provided a blast of sunshine pouring through the deck door, a welcome sight in the tiresome late winter days. Kim checked the outside thermometer and pulled her robe closer. Twenty degrees wasn’t exactly balmy, but as long as she didn’t have to be out in it, she couldn’t care less about the temperature. She thought about her ordeal the night before, and her terror at the thought of never again seeing those she loved. Definitely a hard reminder to start making the most of every day and every connection and every opportunity – and a plan for her unavoidable demise.

  She shivered a bit and turned back toward the kitchen. She’d made those vows before. Why had she always become derailed? Nothing obvious came to mind and she dismissed that train of thought. What mattered was the now and the future. And Bandit. She picked up her phone and dialed the attorney who’d handled her grandfather’s estate.

  A few minutes later, settled comfortably in front of her computer, she opened the file containing the photos of Wheeler’s dead colt. Garrett’s paperwork had revealed nothing definitive other than some irregular numbers, but those numbers were meaningless if he couldn’t determine the reason for them.

  Kim smiled wickedly. “The camera never lies.”

  Slowly and methodically, she opened each photograph and used high magnification to examine the details. She spent extra time on the photo of the foal’s neck where the lump was found. At 300 percent on the screen, nothing obvious jumped out at her. It was just a lump. She moved on to the next several pictures, still finding nothing. Then a disturbing image appeared, the one taken while Garrett and Wheeler were turning the body over.

  Kim’s stomach jiggled and her throat tightened. That poor little thing looked so frail and delicate. Slim legs with tiny hooves, and soft silvery hair over its belly, marred only by the dark stain left by the Betadine used to sterilize the umbilical stump. Kim swallowed and increased the magnification to focus on the navel area. The stump was well dried and would have probably fallen off within a day or so, had the baby lived. Scrolling away from the navel area toward the hind legs, she leaned closer to the screen, then exhaled sharply.

  “That doesn’t look right.”

  She grabbed the phone and dialed Garrett. While she waited, she added another level of magnification to the image.

  He sounded chipper. “Good morning. How’s the head?”

  “It’s Fine. Say, did you ever really look at those photographs I took of the dead colt?”

  “Yeah, well, sort of. Why?”

  “I’m looking at a close-up of an area near the colt’s penis. There’s a dime-sized bruise and what looks like a puncture wound in the center. Is that a normal site for injections?”

  “Are you kidding me? How did I miss that?”

  “The photos I originally sent to you were not high resolution. The only way to see this anomaly is to blow the image up to about 400 percent.”

  “Miz Kovak, you are good! Send me the high res image.”

  “This will cost you.”

  His tone turned wicked. “Whatever you’d like, Ma’am.”

  Kim flushed with pleasure. “Um, I’d be happy to keep that date with the horses, if you’re still game.”

  “Give me some time this morning to work on this latest twist. How about we meet at the barn this afternoon. We can get some dinner afterwards.”

  Kim let out a soft breath as she hung up. Exonerated and still in the game.

  The phone rang and Shareen’s number appeared on the screen.

  Her voice sounded raspy. “Good morning, Kim. I am so sorry to have missed your call yesterday. You cannot imagine how dreadful I have been feeling. Today seems better, but it is early.”

  “I hope you get to feeling better, and perhaps my news will help.”

  “Oh! Have you found my horses?”

  Kim closed her eyes briefly and proceeded with caution.

  “Maybe. But Shareen, you must understand that this is a long shot, highly unlikely given the distances we’re talking about. However, I did register them with the missing horses organization, and over the weekend, I might have stumbled upon two of them.”

  Shareen began chattering rapidly in Arabic, the excitement in her voice almost breaking Kim’s heart.

  “Shareen, wait. Please. You mustn’t get your hopes too high. I sent the information to the hot line and it’s possible you might hear from someone in the next few days. Be prepared to describe or show photographs of any branding these horses might have.”

  “Oh, we have them freeze branded when they are registered with the international organization.”

  “Excellent. Be sure that you gather all the paperwork, registrations, DNA tests, photographs – anything that can help you prove that those horses are yours when the time comes.”

  “Kim, I cannot thank you enough. You are a true friend.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. This isn’t over, by any means. And I must warn you – it could take a long time to get the horses back into your custody. If this woman has a legitimate bill of sale, she could fight you in court.”

  Kim thought about just how “legitimate” any bill of sale from Charles Léon might be. If he was a pro at this scheme, he probably had excellent documentation and ways to avoid the law. And Vivica Wheeler wanted those horses badly enough to go underground. Shareen’s quest to get her horses back might be an ugly and fruitless experience.

  “Please remember, Shareen, it could be that these are not your horses, so be prepared. I’m sure you’ll hear from someone at some point, but I can’t project when that might be. The hotline is monitored twenty-four hours a day, and this group is good about following up on tips quickly. You must be patient and have faith. Would you like me to send you the photos I took? That might help you to confirm if these are your horses.”

  “Please, yes. I should probably come to Ohio as soon as possible.”

  Kim closed her eyes. “Just wait on that for confirmation from the authorities. I’ll send those pictures as soon as we get off the phone. Let me know what you think, okay?”

  After a few more exchanges, they said goodbye and Kim hung up, wondering if she’d opened a Pandora’s box of disappointment.

  Chapter 55

  Quaid opened Kim’s e-mail, then downloaded the photograph. At 100 percent, he could not see the bruise Kim had mentioned, but when he enlarged the image, the wound was easy to see. An ugly purple-green bruise marred the pale skin of the underbelly, but more intriguing was the large puncture wound in the center of the mark – much larger than a normal hypodermic needle. What on earth had been used to make that hole? And why there? The answer dawned on him. Insulin was normally injected into the subcutaneous tissue beneath the skin. An insulin injection directly into a large vein would mean quick death.

  He sat back and reviewed what he knew. The colt had been examined and declared healthy at birth. Though Quaid didn’t have the file with him at home, he thought he’d seen a notation that tetanus had been administered. That might account for the lump on the neck, although that would be the same site for drawing neonatal blood. The newborn lab report should be in the file – he could compare it to the results for the blood drawn after death. He glowered at the ugly wound on the screen. The answer would be there, of that he was sure.

  Driving to the office an hour later, he pondered how Wheeler could be stealing money from the church without getting caught. Surely there were checks and balances in place. An accountant would be part of the business support staff of the church. Wheeler kept the church books, but Quaid doubted that she was the tax expert that would be necessary to manage and oversee all the government paperwork and filings required for a nonprofit organization. Even being a math whiz, she’d have to be extra smart to get around that. He sure didn’t have any answers and, much as the idea bothered him, it wasn’t his problem. He cli
mbed out of the truck. Right now, he had a fraud report to write.

  After checking his messages and returning one call, Quaid pulled the stack of Wheeler claims over to the center of his desk. The current open case lay on top. Leafing through the sheets of paper, he found the newborn lab report on blood drawn twelve hours after birth. Normal values for everything. No mention of insulin. He sat back and clenched his jaw. The postmortem blood work showed the elevated insulin level just one hour after death. He checked the time on the report. Drawn at 5:10 a.m. He frowned. Why was the blood drawn so soon after death?

  Scrolling through his phone contacts, he found the attending vet’s number and dialed.

  “Dr. Morris? Garrett Quaid with United Equine Assurance. We spoke a few weeks ago, but I have another question about Vivica Wheeler’s dead colt.”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “I note that you drew blood from the dead colt very early in the morning. Actually about an hour after the time that Ms. Wheeler said it died. Did she call you to come over?”

  “No, I got an early start that day and was headed there to do some broodmare inoculations. Just happened to be able to make the trip count for both situations.”

  “So you examined the foal right then and wrote up your report?”

  “Yep, saved me an extra trip. Sent the blood off that morning. Does this help you any?”

  “Yes, it does. I appreciate your time, Doctor.”

  Quaid disconnected, then systematically compared all the neonatal lab reports with the blood work done after death on every other foal. Without exception, over twelve hours had elapsed between time of death and blood sampling. He sat back and stared out the window. Plenty of time for the insulin to dilute to reasonable levels.

  Vivica Wheeler’s scheme had been fouled up by an early-bird, efficient veterinarian. No wonder she’d been so anxious to dispose of the body.