by Tara Meyers
You Can Lead a Horse to Murder
A Secrets of Sanctuary Cozy Mystery
Book #1
TARA MEYERS
You Can Lead a Horse to Murder
Copyright © 2018 Tara Meyers
Forest Grove Books
Editor Christina Schrunk
Cover art design Copyright ©Alchemy Book Covers and Design
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Books by Tara Meyers
Find these titles on her AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE
The Chris Echo Files
A Distant Echo (a short story)
Echo of Fear
Secrets of Sanctuary Cozy Mysteries
You Can Lead a Horse to Murder
Man’s Best Alibi (Coming this Spring!)
Cat’s Got Your Arsenic (TBA)
If you have enjoyed these books, you might want to check out her other titles written as Amazon bestselling author, Tara Ellis. These include a fun middle grade mystery series, a young adult science fiction trilogy, and a true stories of survival series!
Find these books on her AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE
Table of Contents
Books by Tara Meyers
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY ONE
TWENTY TWO
TWENTY THREE
TWENTY FOUR
TWENTY FIVE
TWENTY SIX
TWENTY SEVEN
About The Author
ONE
The small mountain town of Sanctuary, Washington, had a way of luring you in and never letting go.
Ember Burns slammed the tailgate of her truck before leaning warily against it. There was no denying the beauty of the valley they were nestled in, and she paused for a moment to appreciate it. The jagged outline of the Cascade Mountains cast a long shadow before the rising sun. Tumbling hillsides were draped in evergreens that spilled out into the valley, blanketing it with the woods Ember came to know as a child. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the solace of those woods and the smell of the fallen pine needles warmed in the summer heat. Letting out a slow breath, she looked again to the top of the peak and, feeling the power of the landscape, was ready to press on.
It had been a long week. A long month, really.
That was when she’d come back to Sanctuary to say goodbye to her mom forever. It was a beautiful ceremony on another gorgeous summer afternoon, but it was the darkest day of Ember’s life.
Pushing the gloomy thought aside, she forced a smile before looking up at the rustic sign she’d just finished hanging. Tilting her head first one way and then the other, Ember squinted and pursed her lips. It looked crooked.
I should have let Blaine help me hang it! Kicking half-heartedly at one of the trucks balding tires, she walked out into the street to examine the storefront from a distance.
“Sanctuary Animal Clinic,” she read aloud. Not very original, but it got the message across. Glancing at the neighboring stores, she confirmed that the styling matched the quaint southwestern theme of the town.
Banners were strung across the narrow street at every intersection, advertising the upcoming centennial celebration on the Fourth of July. Originally a logging town set deep in the mountains of Washington State, Sanctuary now relied primarily on farming and tourism for its income.
When Ember left ten years ago for college, a young eighteen-year-old ready to take on the world, she didn’t think she’d live there again. But plans changed.
A fresh wave of guilt built in her chest, forcing her to place a hand over her racing heart. The anxiety started the day of the funeral and wasn’t letting up. She’d need to go for a hike soon. It was one of the ways she re-centered herself.
Slipping a scrunchie from her wrist, Ember gathered her long red hair into a ponytail with practiced ease. She still had a lot of work to do. The best way to keep her mind off her mother’s sudden passing was to stay busy. Walking back to her truck, she caught her reflection in the large storefront window of her clinic.
Pausing, Ember looked first at the shadowy towering mountains behind her before studying her image. Of average height and build, her most conspicuous feature was her crimson-red hair. As a child, it was her greatest source of torment. That and her green eyes were the genetic contribution of her Scottish father, but she had a bronzed complexion, thanks to her mom’s Lakota lineage.
Ember never quite forgave her parents for her name. She was already doomed to being the butt of all the jokes at school because of her red hair, but combined with the name Ember Burns, it was enough to make even her teachers chuckle.
It wasn’t until she was around seventeen or eighteen that, somehow, a miracle transpired, and suddenly, her radiant locks became a cause for envy rather than torture. Ember now embraced her unique appearance, but if it weren’t for being the last to carry the Burns name, she would have legally changed it.
I think Dr. Flame would look better on a business card, she mused, causing herself to chuckle. Giving her ponytail a shake, she turned away and went to rummage in the tool chest in the bed of her truck. The hammer she’d just used had somehow disappeared. Both the vehicle and its contents were her mom’s. Ember’s small sedan was safely tucked away in the garage back at the family home. It got great gas mileage but was useless for moving things around, and that was all she’d been doing for the past two weeks. First, her belongings into the family home, and now office furniture at the clinic.
Everything happened in a whirlwind of activity the month before. The day after her mom was laid to rest, Ember was presented with a will which left her the modest farmhouse and twenty acres on a lake at the edge of town. It also left her a reasonable amount of money from a life insurance policy Ember had known nothing about.
It was an accidental death. Well, that’s what the law ruled it, but Ember felt the man who chose to drive drunk that night didn’t do so accidentally.
Finding and grabbing the elusive hammer, she reorganized the displaced items in the tool chest. Her father died when she was just a baby, so she was now officially an orphan at the age of 28. Gripping the hammer tight enough to turn her knuckles white, Ember looked up again at the sign, blinking rapidly to prevent any fresh tears from spilling. It was time to move forward, and she was excited to be doing it at home, in Sanctuary. But there was still a lot to do, and she wanted to make her mom proud.
Between the life and auto insurance policies, she was able to pay for the funeral, pay off the rest of her student loans, and still have enough to live off of for some time. The house was paid for, but there was plenty of upkeep involved. She could have sold it and returned to her internship. She was about to start her third year at a prestigious animal hospital where she’d already gotten the large animal endorsement to her DVM—Doctor of Veterinary Medicine.
Instead, she’d made an impulsive purchase, thanks in part to her Aunt Becky. She had set Ember up
for a lunch date with Dr. Bernie Chambers, the only veterinarian in Sanctuary for over forty years. He’d closed down his practice earlier that year and was flying out to Florida to a 65-and-over community the next day. He threw out a figure for the building and most of its contents that Ember was unable to resist.
Somehow, in the few days she’d been led back home, she’d been sucked in without even realizing it. Sitting there with a literal offer on the table, she found she didn’t want to leave. Everything she wanted was right there, and the fresh loss of her mom was softened by a sense of hope and adventure for something new.
A month later, her life had completely changed. Now that she was committed, she was determined to be successful. Financially, she figured she had enough to float the business for six months. Being handed a forty-year-old client list should help make the transition a little smoother. At least, that was what Ember was banking on.
“Your sign is crooked.”
Spinning around, Ember shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun and spotted her Aunt Becky leaning out the window of her SUV.
“Thanks for the tip.” Giving a mock salute, Ember lowered the tailgate back down and climbed onto it. Prying the nail out, she turned to look back at Becky. “Here?” she asked, raising the sign about an inch.
“Perfect!” Becky shouted before pulling into the parking space next to Ember’s rusty pickup. Climbing out, she batted at some stray strands of red hair a shade lighter than Ember’s and then rested her hands on her hips. “Blaine did a good job on the woodwork.”
After sinking the nail back in and repositioning the sign, Ember jumped down next to her aunt. “Yeah, thanks for the referral. He got it done fast.”
“Did he hit on you? I hope you took my advice and turned him down.”
“Yeah, he hit on me,” Ember confirmed, laughing. “And don’t worry. I broke his heart, even though it meant having to hang a crooked sign by myself.”
Wagging a finger as she walked around and opened the passenger door, the older woman’s expression grew serious. “The last thing you need right now is a man thrown into the mix. You have enough to worry about.”
Becky’s fourteen-year-old daughter emerged from the vehicle, rolling her eyes at her mother’s dramatics. “Blaine is kinda cute in an old man sort of way.”
“Old man?” Ember chortled. “He’s not even thirty! Gosh, Beck, when did Elizabeth grow up, and how did I already cross into the ‘old’ category?”
“Get used to it,” Becky retorted without humor. “I’m barely past forty, and you’d think I was born in the middle ages, listening to this menagerie talk.”
Right on cue, two ten-year-old boys literally fell from the back seat, squawking as a large, cinnamon-colored labradoodle bulled through them.
While Elizabeth had dark hair and eyes, the twin boys were blessed with the Burns family’s red hair. Becky was Ember’s dad’s younger sister by twelve years. When he died, she became close friends with Ember’s mom and, as a result, was more like an older sister to her while growing up.
“Who’s your newest rescue?” Ember asked, nodding at the dog now running in circles around the laughing boys. Opening the front door, she motioned for the group to follow her inside the clinic.
“Ummm … Bret and Tim named her Cujo.” Becky made a grab for the dog but missed, having to settle for a hand on a shoulder of each of her sons. “Stop running! You’re getting her too worked up.”
“Aside from the obvious fact that Cujo is a boy’s name, it’s totally unoriginal.” Ember took a dog treat from a dish on the front counter and tossed it to Cujo. While she was updating most of the old rundown furniture, the main counter and all of the stocked products were staying.
“Feel free to change it.”
She glanced at her aunt and then paused when she saw the smile on her face.
“Uh-uh,” Ember insisted, crossing her arms over chest. Becky Stratton ran an animal shelter and headed a rescue program. There was only one reason she would bring a dog to Ember that wasn’t properly named. “You said it yourself; I have too much on my plate. A dog is the last thing I need!”
“I’ve already got four dogs,” Becky quipped. “And three cats.”
“Becky …”
“And two horses, a goat, and a couple of pigs.”
“Aunt Becky!”
“What? We’ve also just inherited a new chicken to our already impressive flock, which the bunnies don’t seem to like much.”
“I can’t take in a dog right now.”
“Did I mention the guinea pig? It drives the parakeet crazy. It’s trying to mimic the small little squeaks and clicks it makes, but it can’t quite get it right.”
“I think it sounds just like it,” Bret offered, nodding. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that Cujo got out again.”
Eyes widening, Becky looked at her son with disdain.
“I thought she was Cujo,” Ember questioned, gesturing to the dog.
As if knowing she was being talked about, “Cujo” sat down next to Ember and stared at her silently.
“No, the real Cujo,” Tim corrected. “Bret’s gerbil. He likes to bite.”
“And escape his cage,” Becky added. “The last time it happened, it took almost a week to get him back, and how many bites?”
Bret wiggled under his mother’s scrutiny. “I swear I latched the cover!”
“I’m putting out a rat trap!” Elizabeth declared. “If that thing comes in my room, he’s a goner!”
“Mom!” Bret demanded, stomping a foot. “Tell Lizzy she can’t kill Cujo!”
Turning from her kids, Becky looked at Ember and spread her arms wide. “Would you really banish this poor soul to the unknown fate of a killer gerbil on the loose?”
Laughing, Ember knelt down next to the lab-and-poodle mix. She was a medium-sized dog of around fifty pounds. Her curly hair was a gorgeous hue of red, a few shades lighter than her own. Looking into the warm chocolate-brown eyes, she was struck by a sense of intelligence and understanding.
“Where did she come from? You know how expensive labradoodles are, and she looks purebred.”
Grinning, Becky winked conspiratorially at her kids before kneeling down on the other side of the dog. She knew she had her.
“Sort of a strange thing. She was found out in a field off Hwy 12, about ten miles out, dirty and hungry without a collar. I scanned for a chip, of course, but she doesn’t have one. Contacted all the other neighboring shelters, and no one seems to be looking for her.” Shrugging, she rubbed the dog affectionately. “Kept her quarantined at the shelter for a week, and I’ve had her out at our place for about ten days now. Nothing. No inquires, no answers to my ad. It’s time to place her in a forever home, Ember, and she’s a special one. I really would keep her myself, but I think she’d be better off with you.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I know you’ll love her in a way she deserves. Plus, she’d make a good watch dog and keep you company out there at your isolated corner of the world. She’s great with other animals, so you could bring her in to work with you.”
“You’ve thought it all through, huh?” Laughing lightly, Ember grasped the dog’s face in her hands so they were nose-to-nose. Rather than pull away, “Cujo” relaxed under the pressure of her hands and returned her gaze. “Well, first thing we have to do is give you a proper name.”
“Yay!” Bret whooped, high-fiving his brother.
“A name fit for the noble woman that you are,” Ember said softly to her new friend. Releasing her, she leaned back and tapped at her chin in thought. After a moment, she snapped her fingers. “Daenerys!”
“Really, Ember?” Becky snorted.
“Don’t judge me. So, I enjoy a story about ancient families and epic battles. It’s a queen’s name, and I like it.”
“I think it’s cool,” Elizabeth offered.
“I don’t even allow you to watch The Game of Thrones,” Becky reminded her daughter. “But whatever you
want, Ember. I’ll call her Danny for short.”
Smiling at her aunt, Ember was warming up to the idea of having a companion. It had been a long time since she’d been able to keep a pet. Maybe they’d have fun hiking together.
The tune “Staying Alive” suddenly echoed through the room, and Becky began digging in her purse for her phone. Pulling it out, she squinted at the caller ID before accepting the call.
“Hello, this is Becky Stratton of Stratton Animal Rescue Services.” Jumping at the screaming on the other end, she held the phone away from her face. “Bonnie? Bonnie, what on earth is the matter? Calm down; I can’t understand you!”
Ember could only make out part of the muffled response. Something having to do with a horse and some sort of problem with it.
“Well, that doesn’t make any sense. Did something happen?”
As another long string of indistinguishable words came through the line, Becky’s brows drew together, and she began chewing at her bottom lip.
“Uh-huh. Well, I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of anything like that. I’m not sure what to tell you. Wait!” Turning to Ember, Becky lowered the phone and held it against her chest to mute her end. “I think I have your first client.”
TWO
After a rapid exchange on her phone, Becky dropped it into her purse and pulled out her wallet. “Elizabeth, take the boys next door and get some ice cream.”
“But, Mom,” Elizabeth whined. “You’re supposed to drop me off at Heidi’s! We have to finish planning the parade float this weekend.”
“Lizzy, it’s Friday.” Becky shoved a twenty into her daughter’s hand and then made a shooing motion. “You have a week from tomorrow to get that thing done.”
When she saw the sincere dejection on Lizzy’s face, her features softened. “Look. It’s barely nine. I promise we won’t be long and I’ll have you there before lunch, okay? Something is wrong with the rescue horse you helped me transport to Bonnie’s. It’s important.”
