Perfect Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 3)

by Michele Scott

  “Okay,” I answer, not knowing what else to say. Obviously this lady is like the voodoo queen of the horse communicators.

  “This is about Joel, isn’t it?” she asks.

  Oh goodness, how do I answer this? I don’t respond right away. I need to think about it. I decide that maybe the best answer is the truthful one. “Yes. It’s about Joel.”

  I hear the pause on the other end. I guess it’s probably funny to hear a pause, but I hear it.

  “Sweetie, I need you to listen to me. You need to be careful.”

  “I am being careful.”

  “What has Melody been telling you? I can’t get through to her. It’s actually Harmony who has been telling me that she’s afraid you’re in trouble.”

  “Harmony? She hasn’t said anything to me.”

  “She doesn’t want to scare you. In fact, she’s probably been a little curt with you lately. She’s afraid.”

  I kind of feel betrayed that my horse has been carrying on a long-distance conversation with Kayla without including me. Especially now that I think about it and realize that, yes, she actually has been kind of short with me. I’ve been so focused on everything and everyone else that I haven’t thought much about her brief communications. I figured maybe it was because she was now “speaking” to me, rather than just talking through images and emotions. She and I will have to have a discussion about it. “Okay.”

  “Tell me about Melody,” she insists.

  “She’s been showing me clear images for months of a dead gray pony. That image always switches to one where someone is injecting Melody herself with something in the vein. Then she shows me crashing into a jump and a little girl on the ground.” I don’t tell her that I know this little girl is Wills’s sister. She wouldn’t even know who Wills is. “I think she knows even more. There’s more she wants to tell me.” I lower my voice, even though there is no one around us. “But since we’ve been here, her images have become blurry and confusing.”

  “Confusing as in you perceive something like dark smoke? And then see a rapid cycle of images, almost as if they’re flash cards? And none of them make sense?”

  I could ask her how she knows this and how she so perfectly put my recent experience into words, but again—who cares?—because the facts are she does know it. “That’s exactly what it was,” I say.

  “She’s been scrambled,” she says, her tone of voice very matter-of-fact.

  “Scrambled?”

  “It means there is another communicator there who is messing her up.”

  “What?” I shout, then look around to make sure that no one is watching me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But, what do you mean there’s another communicator here?”

  “It may or may not be intentional, but Melody is talking and listening to someone else at Liberty Farms. Whatever the communication is, the horse has either become confused or is being used as a tool to send you scrambled messages.”

  “Seriously? Kind of makes me feel like we are a dime a dozen.”

  Kayla laughs. “Hardly. It’s just one of those things. It’s coincidence. But when you think about it, you’re likely to find more equine communicators around horses than if you were just walking on the street.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” I say. I’m absorbing the information that there is someone else at Liberty Farms who can talk with the horses. What I’m not completely absorbing is that whoever it might be is messing with Melody’s brain. Or, is it possible that she’s just confused by two different people speaking to her?

  “Tell me what you think is going on,” I say.

  “If I had to guess, then I’d say, yes, someone could possibly be using the horses to get to you. Any one of the horses could communicate that you have been talking to them. You need to be careful. If someone is trying to manipulate Melody, and you really think that’s the case, then they must have something to hide. I think whatever they’re hiding is ugly—really ugly. The kind of ugly that could get you hurt.”

  “I think you’re right, but I have to find out what Melody knows, Kayla. I have to know what happened to Joel—what really happened to him.”

  “I wish I could be there to help you, but I can’t. I can help from here, though. You have to promise me that you’ll be extremely careful. This is dangerous territory.”

  “I promise,” I say.

  “Okay then, I can teach you how to work with the horse. I can teach you how to unblock her.”

  “How?” I ask.

  She clucks her tongue. “You’re going to have to open up your mind, because this involves a little bit of magic. Are you ready to learn?”

  “I’m ready.”

  As our conversation unfolds, my knees start to feel a little wobbly. Not only is Kayla Fairmont making suggestions that sound straight out of Harry Potter, but she’s explaining a complicated procedure that has so many steps I have to sneak a pen and some paper out of the desk at the front of the Commons House to write everything down.

  After we hang up, I look again at the scribbled to-do list in front of me. If Kayla’s right, and this works, I might just get all the answers about Joel that I’m looking for—from Melody.

  CHAPTER thirty-two

  It’s kind of spooky back behind the barns by myself after dark. I wish I were coming here to meet Austen. That’s not the situation. Instead, I’m making good on Kayla’s crazy suggestions for “unblocking” Melody so I can communicate with her more clearly. Yep, I’ve decided to go all Harry Potter tonight and try something with the horse that veers into, well, Hogwarts territory. Austen wanted to meet, but I said I had a migraine coming on and was going to bed early. I don’t like lying to him, but I can’t tell him about my gift. I don’t want to risk messing things up—especially since tomorrow is his birthday and I want us to get some time alone. That has been in short supply lately. And if I explain that I’m trying to work magic on a scrambled horse, he might send me to the loony bin tomorrow instead of meeting me at the shed behind the barns in the evening, when nobody will be around to interfere.

  I’m looking forward to celebrating with Austen, but not to the rest of what tomorrow will bring. I know from the schedule that I’ll be working with Frank for the first time.

  In the dark outside the barn, I double-check that I have everything that’s on the list I scribbled down while talking to Kayla: all of Melody’s favorite treats, a photo of Joel, a few pieces of Melody’s tail, a pebble, a small piece of wood, and a string. I also have a white candle, some matches to light it, and, since I’ll be sitting on dirt, I don’t need the vial of dirt Kayla told me that I’d need if I planned to do the ritual inside.

  I take one last look around to make sure I’m alone. Yep. All I can do is pray that nobody comes along,, because if anyone does see me, well, I can only imagine what they might think.

  I don’t go into the barn to see the horses even though I want to. Kayla told me that I shouldn’t be in contact with any of them for a minimum of two hours before the ritual—and should wait at least two hours after it’s finished to see them. So I’ll have to wait until tomorrow before squeezing in any visits. When I’d left Harmony earlier, she was doing really well, and assured me that she was looking forward to going back to work in the morning.

  Kayla had explained to me that the reason for leaving time in between being around the horses and doing the ritual had something to do with not wanting any of them to sense the energy around what I was trying to do, because, as I already know, horses not only communicate with people with my skills, but also they communicate with one another. I asked Kayla if it was possible that the block on Melody was being put in place by another horse. She said it was unlikely.

  “People have been trying to get horses to do what they want for a long time, Vivvie,” she’d said. “So most likely a person is the culprit.”

  Of course, I’d been racking m
y brain for who might be behind Melody’s situation, but I had only one suspect in mind—Wills. I’d seen him with Melody. He’d acted strange. And he had a connection to her in that his sister had owned the pony who’d died—and she’d owned Melody before the mare was bought by Joel. That meant he would have had access to Melody in the past, to create a bond between him and the horse. He also appeared to be an observer like myself, a quality I associated with my empathetic gift. He’d spent time at juvenile hall, implying, maybe, that he was capable of dangerous things. And he had ties to Chris Haverly. Maybe Wills had “the gift,” and he didn’t want Melody to recall the pony . . . maybe he had something to hide. The only problem? I’m just not really sure if I’m convinced that Wills is a bad guy—someone who would intentionally try to manipulate Melody for some kind of sinister reason.

  I walk a little way from the barn and sit with my back against a nearby tree. I take everything out of my backpack and light the white candle, after pushing it down into the ground pretty good so that it won’t move. I take the piece of wood and, with a green string that represents Joel’s competition color, tie to it the strands of Melody’s tail that I cut off of her earlier in the day.

  I set the piece of wood down in front of me and place the pebble on top of it. Then I set a row of Melody’s treats out in a straight line—a carrot, an apple slice, a sugar cube, and a horse cookie. The final piece is Joel’s photo. There’s hardly any light, but I can just make it out: Joel holding up the second-place ribbon he won in Lexington while standing next to Melody and grinning from ear to ear. He looked so happy. He’d just been told that Melody was his to keep, because Kayla had bought her and gifted her back to him.

  Looking at the photo reminds me of how certain I am that foul play contributed to his death. It also strengthens my resolve to finish this crazy ritual, even though I think it’s a tad ridiculous. If it’ll help find the answers that I know are here at Liberty Farms, then I’ll do it.

  I set the photo down and pick the pebble back up, holding it in my hand. Following Kayla’s instructions, I close my eyes and picture Melody in my head. I hold the image of her as clearly as I possibly can. Once I have the image of the horse and feel comfortable that my mind is focused, I visualize a bright light above her. In my mind’s eye, I enhance the light and make it brighter and bigger. I keep doing this until Melody is standing completely inside the light. I see my hands now in the image and I reach out to touch Melody’s face within the light. I run my hands along her silken chestnut-colored coat. My hands stop at her heart, and I keep them there. I maintain the imagery and connection while I begin to send her feelings of joy, peace, love, and overall contentment.

  I feel what I can only describe as a surge of energy travel from me to the horse. She tosses her head, agitated. I whisper the words, “It’s okay. You’re safe with me. You are safe.” She calms at my voice.

  I know that the next step could be tricky. Kayla warned me about it, so I take it as slow as I possibly can. I do the best I can to change my hands into Joel’s within the image—it’s hard, because I can’t exactly remember what Joel’s hands looked like. The one thing I do remember vividly, though, is a scar he had on the back of his right hand. He’d told me that he’d gotten it as a little kid when he picked up a wheelbarrow too quickly; it was lodged sideways under a cement mixer, and the sharp shroud of the mixer had cut him and left a distinct one-inch scar.

  When Melody sees the back of his hand, she takes a step to the side. I again reassure her. “It’s okay. It’s Joel.” I then show her an image of Joel and she stops moving; her ears prick forward and he begins to pet her. I can sense anxiety going through her because she doesn’t completely understand what’s happening.

  She knows that he’s been gone and I think she knows that he’s dead, so this has to be somewhat confusing. But as I maintain the image of Joel’s hands stroking her neck, her eyes close slightly and she relaxes. This is the state that Kayla explained I would want her in.

  Then I say the words “Concordia cum veritate,” which in Latin mean, “in harmony with truth.” I repeat this over and over again, and with each time I say it, the light grows brighter and stronger around Joel and Melody until I can no longer see either of them. All I see is this blinding light—and then I see nothing as everything disappears and goes to darkness.

  CHAPTER thirty-three

  Voices wake me and I struggle to sit up. The candle has gone out. I have no idea how long I’ve been out. Kayla did warn me that I might go unconscious briefly, depending on the intensity of the ritual, but I hadn’t believed her. I’m groggy and my whole body feels heavy.

  As the voices come closer—they sound male—I spring into action, gathering up my things as quickly as I can. Just in time, I duck behind a maintenance shed.

  “What do you mean you couldn’t get any more of it?” Now that they’re closer, I recognize one of the voices. It’s Chris Haverly.

  “I tried. But he’d know if it were missing.”

  I can tell from the dour tone that it’s James.

  “We need some more of it, man. If we don’t get it, we can’t make the stuff and I promised we’d deliver on time. This is a big deal! The Russians, man!”

  “I tried, Chris.”

  I see them pass the barn and pause beneath the tree where I’d just been sitting. I’ve got my body wedged in as tightly as I possibly can between the shed and barn. I can hear the horses moving around inside. My senses are on high alert and I feel strung out, almost as if I just drank five shots of espresso. It’s a weird sensation. My heart is beating hard against my chest. I really hope they don’t spot me.

  “You tried?” Chris sounds like he’s getting angrier by the minute. “You better try harder! I made promises to people who won’t think trying is good enough, you idiot!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry won’t cut it! Get the stuff so we can finish this!” Chris lights a cigarette and sits down right where I’d been. “What’s this?”

  I can see him picking something up and realize it’s the photo of Joel. Uh-oh. How did I leave that behind?

  “Shit, man, this is weird!” Chris says.

  “What is it?”

  “A photo of Joel and his horse.” Chris hands it to James, who promptly tears it up.

  “That’s creepy,” he says.

  “Yeah. Kind of. Thing is, if you don’t get what we need by tomorrow, you could wind up like Parker there.”

  “Screw you, Chris.”

  “I’m just saying, get what we need.” Haverly stands up and walks away. James trails behind him.

  I stay hidden until I can no longer see either of them. Then I walk quickly back toward the cabin. I check my phone now and there are five text messages. Three are from Austen, asking where I am and to call him, one from Riley, who also wants to know what I’m up to, and one—oddly enough—from Tristan, which just reads, Hi. Thanks for listening the other day.

  Oh boy.

  It’s after midnight and I’m hoping no one is awake to ask me five thousand questions when I walk through the door. I had no idea I’d been out there for over three hours.

  I text Austen and tell him that I’d fallen asleep, which is true. He writes back that he’s happy to hear from me. I don’t text Riley, because I’m sure he’s asleep, and, as far as Tristan goes, the sentiment is nice, but he won’t get a response from me—not tonight or tomorrow.

  I’m thankful that everyone seems to be asleep and I don’t even get undressed. I climb as quietly as I can into the top bunk, close my eyes, and try to process the night.

  One thing I need to find out for sure is what Chris and James were talking about. What was it that Chris was insisting that James get? I think it’s time that Riley, Austen, and I have another powwow.

  CHAPTER thirty-four

  My alarm goes off at six, and I make myself get up. I’m not happy about the
early wake-up call, but today is a big day. I shower before texting the guys. I send Austen a Happy Birthday text and tell him that we need to meet for coffee. Then I send Riley a text that tells him to wake up and meet us at the Commons House.

  Twenty minutes later I’m sitting with my guys over coffee and croissants. I want to hug Austen and kiss him and yell, “Happy birthday!” But no can do.

  “What’s up, Vivvie?” Riley asks.

  I have to be delicate about this because of the lie I’d told Austen about having a migraine and falling asleep. “I heard something last night.”

  “What, like a bird?” Riley says.

  “Smart-ass. No. I went to check on Harmony one last time and I saw Chris and James walking out by the barns so I spied on them,” I say.

  “She’s like that Veronica Mars chick.” Riley winks at Austen.

  “Go on,” Austen says.

  I recount the conversation I overheard. They both stare at me, and then Riley’s eyes widen. “Oh wow. That’s how they get the mix—the ketamine and dermorphin. James works with Dr. Vermisio, right?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Well, it makes sense that the vet would have the ketamine on board, but not the dermorphin unless he did some of his own illegal work on the side. You know, helping people drug their horses on or off the track,” Austen says.

  “Great. An unethical vet just performed eye surgery on my horse.” I take a sip from the coffee.

  “We don’t know that,” Riley says. “It’s just a theory. But it does make sense.”

  “I’ll know more when I meet with Chris to talk drugs,” Austen replies. “I’ll pick the guy’s brain.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “I know, but it’s what we have to do.”

  I finish by telling them about what the two guys had said about Joel, leaving out the part about the photo of him. They glance at each other. “This is why we have to get in tight with them,” Riley says. “And you need to be low-key, Vivvie. You do your thing. Ride. Ignore everything we’re doing. Okay?”