by Alison Hart
The International. Still one of the toughest shows around.
She picked up a second picture of three horses cantering across a field. Yearlings, Jas decided, long-legged, wild-eyed, and bursting with vitality.
Suddenly, Jas heard a familiar sound.
A horse’s whinny from outside made her glance up. Pushing aside the fern fronds, she looked out the window, her heart catching in her throat at the sound of an answering whinny.
Horses! But the thick maple boughs from the trees surrounding the house made it impossible to see. Still, she knew they were out there.
“Jas!” someone called from the bottom of the stairs. She quickly put down the photo. She was turning to leave when a third picture, half hidden by a wooden box, caught her attention.
It was of the same bay horse, with a woman holding it. Looking closer, Jas realized that it was Miss Hahn, only twenty years younger. But what made her almost fall to the ground was the man who was standing to the side with a sport cap angled on his head and a hunt whip in his hand.
It was a younger version of Hugh Robicheaux.
Jas heard footsteps coming up the stairs. “Jas!” This time the voice was more insistent. By the time Ms. Tomlinson reached the top of the steps, Jas was walking steadily down the hall, even though her legs were trembling.
Miss Hahn knew Hugh?
“Please don’t keep us waiting. Mrs. Weisgerber and I have other appointments,” Ms. Tomlinson explained as she herded Jas down the steps.
In the living room, Mrs. Weisgerber was hooking up the black flat rectangular computer unit to the phone. Jas glanced warily at Miss Hahn, who was sitting on the sofa eating a sandwich.
Did Miss Hahn really know Hugh?
“The transmitter on Jas’s ankle ‘talks’ to this unit, much like a cordless telephone communicates with its base,” Mrs. Weisgerber was telling Miss Hahn. Ms. Tomlinson was seated on a ladder-back chair, a plate of food balanced on her lap.
Slowly, Jas perched on the seat of a rocking chair. Get a grip, she told herself sternly.
Of course Miss Hahn knew Hugh. They were both horse people. Both about the same age. They’d probably competed against each other at one time. But that was a long time ago, Jas reasoned.
“The unit reports to a monitoring center in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, through the phone line,” Mrs. Weisgerber continued. “The Harrisburg center faxes their reports to me unless they receive a signal of tampering or violation. Then they’ll call me directly. Tampering means that someone has messed with the ankle bracelet. Violation means that Jas is not where she is supposed to be.”
The photo was old, Jas continued. But still, should I tell Ms. Tomlinson that this Miss Hahn person knows the man I “assaulted”?
The picture didn’t really prove anything. Hugh could have been just a bystander at the show. Besides, ever since Jas’s mother had left when she was a baby and her grandmother had died a year ago, Jas had taken care of herself. So she figured that she didn’t need Ms. Tomlinson’s help now.
Ms. Tomlinson picked up a sheet of paper on the coffee table. “We have made up a tentative schedule,” she said, handing the paper to Jas. She stared at it. Under each day of the week was listed the date and the hours of the day.
Mrs. Weisgerber stuck a key into the back of the unit and turned. “There, your bracelet is on. I’ll fax the schedule to Harrisburg,” she explained. “From now on, this unit”—she placed her hand on the box—“will keep track of where you are, Jas. That means you need to be where you’re supposed to be, especially during lockdown times.”
Jas reluctantly read the horrible schedule. MAY was written in big letters between 7:30 and 9:00 A.M., and again from 4:00 to 6:00 P.M. That meant Jas could move about freely. The rest of the time was mostly LOCK, which meant she had to be close to the monitor.
“Every Monday, we’ll meet to complete the new week’s schedule,” Mrs. Weisgerber continued.
“Can visits to my grandfather be built into the schedule?” Jas asked.
“Your grandfather’s very ill, Jas,” Ms. Tomlinson said gently.
“That’s all the more reason to see him.”
“Fine, we’ll try to fit it into the schedule,” Ms. Tomlinson said. “Of course, your visits will depend on how well you follow the rules of probation.”
Jas swung to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“In a foster care situation, everyone has to do his or her part to make things work.”
Jas looked first at Miss Hahn, then at Mrs. Weisgerber, then back at Ms. Tomlinson. Just like Hugh Robicheaux, the three women were forcing her to make a deal.
A sour taste filled Jas’s mouth. She knew she had no choice. If she didn’t follow the rules, she might never see Grandfather again.
Jas pushed herself back in the rocking chair. “I understand,” she said flatly.
A movement under the sofa caught her attention. A tabby cat glared at her with yellow eyes. Jas glared back. The cat lay flat against the floor, as if afraid to come out.
Little kitty’s trapped, Jas thought as she began to pump the rocker furiously.
Just like me.
Then the cat slunk from under the sofa and, tail between its legs, skittered from the room to freedom.
Five
“WE’LL HAVE TO FIGURE OUT SOMETHING FOR you to do during lockdown times,” Miss Hahn said to Jas.
Jas gripped the arms of the chair and pushed down hard.
“She enjoys reading,” Ms. Tomlinson said. “We can schedule trips to the library.”
“Good.” Miss Hahn sounded relieved. “We can hit the public library first thing tomorrow—” Suddenly, her tan cheeks colored slightly. “I mean,” she started again, then hesitated and finally glanced at Ms. Tomlinson for help.
The social worker took the schedule and began erasing. “We can do a trip to the library. Once a week, Tuesday after lunch, how’s that sound?”
“Oh, just dandy,” Jas muttered under her breath.
“We’ve arranged to have your MAY times coincide with Miss Hahn’s feeding schedule,” Ms. Tomlinson continued.
“I’m hoping you’ll help around the farm,” Miss Hahn explained.
Jas kept her eyes on her lap. MUST, MAY, LOCKDOWN. For the next week, her life would be boringly mapped out for her. It was like a huge, sick prank that some vengeful person was playing on her.
If she had been back at High Meadows, her summer would be filled with horses. She’d be busy from dawn to dusk riding, gentling foals, and grooming. Every weekend, she’d be going to a big show. Whirlwind had been on her way to winning the Junior Horse of the Year Award for their zone, and she’d been racking up points in equitation classes.
But Whirlwind was dead and none of that mattered anymore.
“I think that’s all we have to discuss,” Mrs. Weisgerber said, gathering her things to leave.
Ms. Tomlinson wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Mr. Eyler will be here Friday morning. And don’t hesitate to call me if there are any problems,” she said to Miss Hahn. “And thank you for a delicious lunch.”
“You’re welcome.” Miss Hahn stood up. “Jas, would you like a tour of the farm?”
“Is it in my schedule?” she asked sarcastically. Ms. Tomlinson checked her watch. “That’s right. She can’t leave the house until four.”
“Oh, right.” Hastily, Miss Hahn picked up the two plates. “Chase will be here then.”
Chase? Is that a person’s name?
“He’s helping me out this summer. He’s about your age, Jas. I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a tour.”
“What I’d really like is a shower,” Jas said, plucking at a greasy strand of hair.
“Good idea,” Ms. Tomlinson said, and after repeating several more do’s and don’ts, she and Mrs. Weisgerber left.
Jas stood up. “The shower?” she repeated to Miss Hahn.
“Right. You’ll find everything you’ll need in the bathroom.”
“Okay.” Jas hurr
ied upstairs and into her room, startling a calico cat curled on the foot of the bed. For a second, the two eyed each other. Then the calico rolled over and stretched.
Jas ruffled the soft tummy. “You must be the friendly one.” The calico purred, and the room didn’t seem quite so lonely.
Jas took out clean jeans, a T-shirt, and underwear. Ms. Tomlinson better remember my riding clothes when she goes to the trailer, Jas thought. Not that she expected to ever wear them again, but just being able to hold and smell them would be nice.
Jas walked into the bathroom, immediately locking the door and slumping against it with relief. She’d hated the group showers at the center. That’s why her hair was so dirty.
But a sudden ache in her bladder made her realize how badly she had to pee. As she unzipped her jeans and made her way to the toilet, a noise startled her. It instantly reminded her of the center, where even going to the bathroom was risky.
At the center, she had had to sit on the toilet with her feet drawn up. That way, the tough gangs of girls who prowled the halls and bathrooms hunting for someone to hassle wouldn’t see her.
Jas listened. When she realized the sound was a vehicle coming up the drive, her heart slowed in relief.
When she finished going to the bathroom, Jas pulled off her T-shirt and underwear. Automatically, her hands covered her breasts, shielding them. A warm breeze came through the slatted shutters of the bathroom window and she shivered.
It was the first time she’d been naked in two weeks. At the center, she’d slept in the same shirt she wore all day. That way, she never had to completely undress in front of anyone.
She turned on the shower. As she waited for the water to get hot, Jas studied herself in the mirror. Since glass mirrors were forbidden at the center, she hadn’t seen herself in a long time.
Now she didn’t recognize the pale-faced, sad-eyed girl who stared back at her. Had she changed that much in only three weeks?
When the mirror steamed up, Jas stepped into the tub. The hot water pelted her skin and hair, washing away weeks of dirt. Jas let her eyelids drift shut.
For a moment, she forgot about everything—Whirlwind, the trial, her grandfather, Hugh. But then a blast of cold water made her eyes pop open.
She couldn’t forget. Not if she was going to prove that Hugh had killed Whirlwind.
Scrubbing hard, Jas washed every inch of her skin, the nylon bracelet around her ankle growing dark with water. When she was finished with her body, she started on her hair. Jas noticed that Miss Hahn had luxurious scented shampoo in the shower, so she poured some on her palm, breathing in the fragrance before lathering her hair.
After rinsing, she turned off the shower and wrapped a soft towel around her. As she stepped from the tub, a knock on the door made her jump.
“Jas? You have a phone call. A Dr. Aladdin. He needs to talk to you about your grandfather.”
Jas’s heart quickened. “Is Grandfather all right?”
“Yes. Dr. Aladdin says he’s recovering nicely. You can use the phone in the living room—the one the monitor’s hooked up to.”
“Thanks. Tell him I’ll be there in one minute.” Excited, Jas dried herself and dressed. Twisting the towel around her head like a turban, she thumped barefoot down the steps. As she picked up the receiver, she heard the clinking of dishes in the kitchen.
“Hello? Dr. Aladdin?”
“Jas.”
Jas’s mouth went dry. From just that one word, the honey-smooth voice speaking her name, she knew who was on the other end.
Hugh Robicheaux.
Jas turned her back to the kitchen door. “How did you know I was here?”
He chuckled softly. “I’ll always know where you are and what you’re doing.”
Goose bumps prickled Jas’s damp skin. She covered the mouthpiece, hoping he wouldn’t hear her sharp intake of breath.
How did he know?
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?” Hugh asked, his tone as nasty as a spoiled brat.
“What do you want?” Jas repeated, trying to keep her voice from trembling.
“I want you to remember our deal.”
“I do. But only if you keep your part of it. Grandfather better be getting the best care possible.”
“He is.”
“Where is he?”
“That’s for the dauntless Ms. Tomlinson to tell you.” Hugh chuckled. “Good-bye, Jas. Oh, and say hello to Diane for me.”
Jas froze. “You know Miss Hahn?” she hissed. “Is that how you found out I was living here?” But he had already hung up.
Slowly, Jas replaced the receiver. Turning her head slightly, she listened to the familiar sounds coming from the kitchen. The slam of the cupboard door and the whoosh of running water sent chills up her spine.
The photo hadn’t lied. Hugh did know Miss Hahn. That’s how he knew where she was living. And that’s why he’d always know what she was doing.
Miss Hahn was reporting everything to him.
Six
DOUBLING OVER, JAS DROPPED INTO THE rocker. She covered her mouth, stifling a moan. She had to tell someone that Hugh knew Miss Hahn.
Could she trust Ms. Tomlinson?
No way. The social worker would think Jas was making it up. Besides, Hugh had mentioned Ms. Tomlinson’s name. Maybe they were all in it together. Stanford was a small town, and Hugh’s family had been its original founders. Not only did he have connections, he knew everybody.
Oh, Grandfather, Jas whispered. What should I do?
A sudden thought struck Jas. If Hugh needed to spy on her, it meant that he had definitely killed Whirlwind. But why would he want to kill his own horse?
Whirlwind had been in her showing prime, worth over a hundred thousand dollars. Even if she’d injured herself, Hugh could have bred her and made lots of money off the foals. It just didn’t make sense that he would want her dead.
Until she had proof, Jas knew she couldn’t tell anyone her suspicions. Maybe being at Second Chance Farm was actually to her advantage. Maybe Miss Hahn would somehow lead her to the answer to why Hugh had killed Whirlwind.
Footsteps. Without moving, Jas directed her gaze toward the kitchen. Miss Hahn stood in the doorway, her large frame filling it.
“How’s your grandfather?” she asked, her voice so sincere Jas almost doubted her ears. If she and Hugh were in cahoots, she had to have known it wasn’t a doctor on the phone.
“He’s doing better,” Jas replied, surprised at her composure. “Dr. Aladdin—”
Jas caught her breath. Dr. Aladdin. Aladdin was the name of a horse that died the year Jas and her grandparents came to High Meadows Farm. She was only eight years old, and the sight of the dead horse lying in the stall sent her crying into her grandfather’s arms.
Why would Hugh use that name?
With an effort, Jas refocused her attention on Miss Hahn. “The doctor said that from now on, he would be communicating through Ms. Tomlinson,” Jas explained calmly. “He was just checking to see if I had any other relatives.”
Miss Hahn leaned against the door frame, her head cocked. “Oh.”
Jas could see the question in her eyes. But there was no way she was saying anything else. She would never give Miss Hahn anything to report to Hugh.
Abruptly, she stood up. “May I borrow a hair dryer? Until Ms. Tomlinson brings my things, I’m going to have to use yours. If that’s okay.”
“Help yourself. Everything’s under the bathroom sink.”
“Thanks,” Jas said as she dashed up the stairs.
“Chase is here,” Miss Hahn called after her. “He said he’d be happy to show you around. It’s about three forty-five now, so you have some time.”
“Okay,” Jas called back, controlling the quiver in her voice. Sprinting into the bathroom, she slammed and locked the door.
Sitting on the toilet seat, Jas cradled her face in her hands, squeezing her fingers against her temples.
Aladdin. Whirlwind. This does
n’t make sense.
But one thing Jas knew for sure: no matter how nice Miss Hahn acted, she couldn’t trust her. She couldn’t trust anybody.
Loud whistling suddenly made her freeze. Someone was in the backyard, walking up the sidewalk to the porch.
“Hey, Tilly, hey, Angel. Where’s Lassie? Good boy, Reese.”
It was a guy’s voice. Lifting a slat in the shutter, Jas peered out the window, catching a glimpse of the top of a baseball cap. Then the cap disappeared from view, and she heard the slam of the screen door.
Chase, I guess.
Bending down, Jas took the dryer and brush from under the sink. When her hair was dry, she stared in surprise at her image in the mirror.
Her brown hair had grown. She’d always worn it short so she could cram it under a riding helmet. Now it fell softly against her cheeks, framing her face like a shimmery curtain.
“Jas! Chase is here!”
Quickly, she put the dryer back, hung up the towel, brushed her teeth with toothpaste and a finger, and combed her hair one last time. She knew she had to act normal. She couldn’t let on to Miss Hahn that she knew what was up.
Hurrying into her room, she put on clean socks and sneakers. As she walked down the hall, she glanced at her ankle. The transmitter was bulging out.
Miss Hahn was still in the kitchen putting food away. A guy about Jas’s age was leaning against the counter, his legs crossed at the ankles, talking with Miss Hahn as if they were old buddies.
“Blue’s broken his halter again,” he was telling her, and when he launched into the tale of trying to catch the horse, Jas had a chance to study him.
He was tall and lanky, wearing a tank top tucked into faded jeans slung low on his hips. His arms were tan and sinewy with muscles, as if he worked outside a lot. But what Jas really noticed was the laughter in his voice when he talked about Blue. She could tell that he loved horses, too.
