by Toni Leland
Feeling despondent, Kim stared out the windshield at the mound of high clouds on the horizon. Whatever was going to happen, she could do nothing about it.
~~
After checking into a hotel, Kim headed for the Horse Park. Rush hour traffic was heavy on the bypass north of the city and she had to watch closely to avoid missing her exit. Thirty minutes later, she drove along the wide road toward the famous sprawling facility. Excitement danced through her head. Some of the most beautiful horses in the world were in residence and she planned to immerse herself in the charisma of the Egyptian Arabian Horse. There was no way to get a bad photograph of one of these creatures.
She parked as close to the barns as possible, then opened the event program. Shareen Van Khoten’s elegant handwriting scrolled across the top of the cover: Sahara Riih Arabians, Barn 3, East Corner. Kim checked the facility map, then gathered her equipment and headed for the barns.
Excitement and anticipation electrified the atmosphere, punctuated by the loudspeaker calling classes, making announcements, and telling someone to move their truck or be towed. Rounding the corner of one of the buildings, Kim came to an abrupt stop as a small stallion, white as a cloud, danced at the end of his lead. He pricked his ears and snorted. Kim could barely breathe. Such fine legs, a deeply dished face and huge dark eyes. A feathery plume of tail arched over his back, then he turned away, fairly floating over the ground. The stallion was like something from an artist’s brush. She watched him prance away, then let out a soft breath and continued on her way toward Barn 3.
Shareen had set up stalls as though she intended to stay for months. Her corner of the barn resembled a small estate, the entire stall block enclosed with heavy red and gold canvas drapes. A tent-like canopy rose above. Kim approached an arch hung with glittering beads, over which a sign lettered in fancy script read, “Sahara Riih Arabians.” Below the name, “They spurned the sand from behind them, They seemed to devour the desert before them.” Huge oil paintings of bejeweled and tasseled Bedouin horses racing across the sand hung on either side of the entrance.
“Oh, good, you are here!”
Shareen’s aristocratic accent drifted on the warm afternoon air.
Kim turned. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
Shareen embraced her, brushing a light kiss across both cheeks, then stepped back and gestured expansively. “I would like photographs of our setup, as well as the horses.”
“It’s beautiful. That saying over the entrance, what does it mean?”
Shareen’s dark eyes sparkled. “Sir Walter Scott wrote those words in ‘The Talisman’ over 150 years ago. He was describing Saladin’s horses who kept Egypt from being conquered by Richard I of England.” Shareen’s voice softened. “The desert Arabian is the fastest, bravest, most beautiful horse in the world, and has been so for centuries.”
Kim started a bit at the mention of Talisman, a curious coincidence on the heels of Teri Fortune’s situation. But how amazing that these animals had survived the tests of time and had remained as pure as the foundation horses from which they’d sprung. At least, those that were under the care and conservation of Egyptian Arabian purists like the Van Khotens.
Shareen took her hand. “Come, we’ll have some tea and I will tell you what I need.”
They moved through the beaded curtain, setting off a delightful chorale of tinkling. Two swarthy men sat on either side of the aisle, holstered guns clearly visible at their sides. A familiar ripple of nerves ran through Kim’s stomach and she felt the urge to reach for her hip. Old habits died hard.
They walked down the aisle toward a small canopy at the back and she peered into each stall, her breath captured and snatched from her chest at the beauty of every horse. They all peered back at her, interested and alert, curious about the newcomer. These animals were valuable, so it would be reasonable to have someone on guard. But guns? It seemed impossible, and quite improbable, that anyone would try to steal one of these horses in the midst of a big event like this.
Under the canopy, Shareen motioned Kim toward a chair, then filled two glasses from a jug nestled in ice. Kim accepted the drink and waited for Shareen to sit.
“Thanks, I didn’t realize how humid it is here.”
“I, too, suffer when we come here. Arizona is so much more like my home in Egypt.”
Kim took a long drink, then set the glass aside.
“I noticed you have some significant-looking guards up front.”
Shareen’s face clouded. “Yes, we do not travel anywhere without them anymore. There have been too many instances of theft and vandalism at shows and to horses left unattended. I follow the stories closely.” Her gaze drifted toward the aisle and her soft features hardened. “I will not allow anything to happen to my children.”
Kim shifted in her chair. “What kinds of things have happened? I hadn’t heard.”
Shareen lowered her voice. “With the terrible economy, people do things to make money. You can find it anywhere on the Internet. But I do not wish to encourage Fate by talking about such things.” She rose from her chair. “Let’s go to the arena. I will also show you where I would like the other photographs to be taken.”
Kim followed, now barely noticing the elegant horses that watched with interest as she passed. A heaviness settled into her chest. In view of the situation with Talisman, Shareen’s fears were not to be taken lightly.
Kim’s practiced eye absorbed everything around her, and she made mental notes about the general show shots she’d take for future use. Shareen gestured as she talked about the schedule and her good luck to secure stalls so close to the covered arena.
“In years past, we’ve been stabled so far away that we needed the golf cart to get around.” Her brilliant smile flashed. “This time, we are blessed with only a short distance to walk.”
Kim gaped at the huge building that housed the new indoor arena, remembering the last time she’d been to the Horse Park. At that time, all events were held outdoors, but when Kentucky was tapped for the World Equestrian Games, the magnificent $45 million structure was built. She’d naively thought she would be able to attend those games and take wonderful photos, but all the hotels had been booked at least a year in advance.
Inside the arena, riders exercised their horses in the ring, a mélange of English, Western, and hunter disciplines. A few spectators dotted the banks of blue and gray seats that rose toward the roof. Trainers and owners hung on the rail, barking instructions to the riders in the ring. Kim looked up at the massive windows in the upper walls, then at the huge lights suspended from the roof. The light would be good enough to get decent exposures.
Shareen thrust a program into her hand. “I’ve marked our championship classes in red. I’d like shots both during the class and, of course, of any placings.”
Kim tilted her head. “I’m curious as to why you aren’t just using the show photographer.”
“I like your work better than anyone else’s.” She brushed a strand of dark hair off her forehead. “Follow me. I’ll show you the spot I want to use as a setting for the outdoor portraits.”
Kim nodded, pleased by the compliment, but also aware that she was infringing on the professional photographer who’d been hired for the show. She would need to find that person and check in.
Shareen led the way across the road and between some buildings, stopping in a grassy area bordered by towering Pampas grasses.
“I’d originally wanted the horses photographed at the edge of the water, but I think the grasses provide a better background, don’t you?”
Kim turned to see what the view might be toward the water. Across the placid lake, the full expanse of the back wall of the stadium jumping arena had been painted with a mural of brilliant blue skies, rolling white fences, beautiful horses, and the proclamation of the FEI World Games 2010. The image reflected on the lake, doubling the impact.
“Yes, the mural would be distracting.”
“Good. Now
I must get back to the horses.” She smiled. “Please plan to join us for dinner at Amalfi’s this evening.”
~~
At six sharp, Kim pulled into the crowded parking lot of the Italian restaurant. As she walked toward the door, her phone chimed and Dixie’s voice came through.
“Hey, Girl, where you at?”
“Just getting ready to join clients for dinner. What’s up?”
“Call me tonight when you get finished. I have some news.”
“What is it?”
Dixie chuckled. “No, you call me later.”
“You brat.”
“Me too. Love ya.”
Kim pocketed the phone. Dixie was always full of surprises. What could she be up to now?
The hostess led Kim toward the back of the restaurant to a quiet private dining area where Shareen and her husband sat. Albert Van Khoten rose from his chair and greeted Kim with the traditional two-cheek buss.
“So good to see you again, my dear.”
Kim made the appropriate responses, wondering how the effusive, dark-skinned Shareen had paired up with this fair-skinned, somewhat reserved Dutchman. They were as different as two people could be, yet they always seemed to be in tune with each other. Albert’s steely gray hair defied taming, and his electric blue eyes could bore a hole straight through Kim’s chest. But when he smiled, his entire face lit up.
She glanced at Shareen, seeing the love and respect in her eyes for this man who’d crossed cultural and religious barriers to be with the woman he cherished. That’s the way it should be, thought Kim. Why is it so hard to find?
Albert’s eyes twinkled. “We should get you to the farm in Egypt. It has been many years since we took photographs there.”
“I’d love that! I’ve always wanted to see all those ancient wonders and, of course, the foundation of the Arabian horse.”
Shareen laughed lightly. “You would be disappointed to see the ‘foundation’ horses in my country. They are not fat and sassy as we keep them here, but they are, indeed, the true blood of the breed.”
Dinner arrived and Kim immersed herself in the most glorious Fettuccini Alfredo she’d ever tasted. The thick rich sauce—a perfect blend of butter, cream, and Parmesan cheese—coated every strand of pasta and curled around the bits of ham and mushroom. Shareen and Albert each had baked manicotti smothered in thick red sauce and glazed with melted mozzarella. Conversation suspended while everyone enjoyed their food.
For some reason, Kim thought again about Shareen’s comments concerning her armed guards. She’d seemed genuinely frightened by whatever events had instigated the upgrade in security. Kim glanced at Albert. He might be more willing to talk about it, if she could find a way to bring it up in an offhand manner.
“That was fabulous. I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.” She took a sip of wine and grinned at Albert. “I’ll start my diet tomorrow.”
He chuckled. “You certainly need not worry about such things. American women are too thin. You are just right.” He turned to his softly-rounded wife. “A man likes something to hold on to.”
Shareen looked embarrassed and slapped his arm playfully. “Albert! Shush, do not talk of such things in public.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “As you wish, my darling.”
Kim could barely watch the exchange, so envious of that special bond that had eluded her.
Albert turned his attention back to Kim. “We will return to Cairo in November. Would you like to come in December? The weather then is wonderful, fairly cool and dry.”
“That would be perfect. Winter is my slowest time and I don’t have anything scheduled yet.”
“Good. It is settled. We shall discuss the details before you leave Kentucky.”
Kim took a deep breath. This was the perfect opening.
“Tell me, Albert. Do you need such heavy security for your horses in Egypt?”
Shareen gasped and Kim felt a tug of guilt for sidestepping the woman’s desire to not discuss the subject.
Albert sat back in his chair and scrutinized Kim for a moment, making her squirm.
“Not so much as here, but still we must be alert. The inter-national market for valuable horses is quite strong.”
“Is there much insurance fraud? Or mostly just outright theft for resale?”
He glanced at his wife. “Insurance fraud seems to be more prevalent in this country. What we’ve been seeing is theft, especially horses in the U.S. being stolen and sold to wealthy buyers in Europe.”
“But with all the identification precautions, wouldn’t that be difficult?”
“Chips can be removed, freeze-marks obliterated, hair coats dyed, et cetera. If a criminal is determined, they will find a way.” Albert shook his head. “Such a bad state of affairs.”
Kim decided to go a step further. “Something strange happened back in Ohio earlier this week. For the life of me, I can’t figure out the reasoning behind it.”
She told them about Jasper and Talisman, adding her own thoughts about how it could have been done.
Albert nodded. “Buying time to let evidence fade and possible witnesses disappear would be a good way to facilitate an insurance scam. And if the stolen horse were sold overseas, that would be additional monies in the owner’s pocket. Very clever, indeed.”
Shareen spoke up for the first time. “Someone would have to go to a great deal of trouble to find an exact twin to the horse. And how could the two be switched en route? There would have to be other people involved. It sounds risky to me.”
Albert patted her hand. “Yes, darling, but desperate people do desperate things.”
Chapter 4
Kim crawled into bed and snuggled under the covers, thinking about the lovely evening with the Van Khotens. A hum from the bedside table interrupted her thoughts.
“Hi, doll.” Dixie’s smile came right through the speaker.
“Hi, yourself. I just got back. Now tell me your news.”
“I’ve been accepted for the K-9 Unit!”
“Dixie, that is so fabulous! You must be over the moon.”
“I still can’t believe it. No more cruising the streets for speeders.”
Kim chuckled. “There aren’t enough cops in the whole state to control that problem!”
“Tell me about it.”
“When do you start?”
“Monday. I’ll be in training for nine weeks.”
“What does your mom think?”
“I haven’t told her yet. She’d only be happy if I quit the department completely and came to live next door to her.”
Kim nodded, but didn’t respond. Dixie had a lot on her plate with a high stress job and a demanding elderly mother.
“Listen Dix. I have to be up before the sun. I’ll see you when I get back and we’ll go out to celebrate.”
“Okay. I’ll check your cat in the morning. ’Night, sweetie.”
Kim turned off her phone and lay back, a hard knot forming behind her breastbone. The time had come to tell Dixie about her past.
~~
The following morning, Kim immersed herself in what she loved and did best: capturing the essence of the horse. She felt blessed to be able to earn her living doing something so creative and enjoyable. Arabians were breathtaking and exciting, but she held no bias for the other breeds. The majesty of the big Warmbloods, the refined elegance of Thoroughbreds, the great attitude of hardworking Quarter Horses, the friendly and versatile Morgan Horse—each held a magic for Kim that showed in her photographs. Even the mutts like Red. She closed her eyes for a moment, swept away by the familiar sorrow.
A horse whinnied somewhere and Kim turned away from the past to the work at hand.
At the end of the session with a small gray mare with large dark eyes, Shareen glowed. “I cannot wait to see your pictures, but please excuse me now, for we have a class in one hour.”
She walked away with her horse and Kim gazed across the small lake. A breeze ruffled the surface, disto
rting the reflection of the bright mural. The sounds of the day faded and she suddenly felt very alone. Where was she headed? She’d met her professional goals and now stayed busy and content with her work. Was this all she could look forward to? The independent streak that had steered her through the landmines of life had been her undoing at times, though she usually came out on the other side unscathed. Why did she have these moments when it all seemed not enough? Had turning fifty been a bigger defining moment than just numbers? She looked away from the water, wondering if she’d have been happier if things had worked out with Peter. Those thoughts hadn’t surfaced in a long time and she wasn’t pleased by their appearance now. She’d managed the shock and pain, and moved on with her life. She’d gotten what she wanted. Hadn’t she?
Annoyed by the uncharacteristic detour into the past, she strode toward the outdoor jumping arena. A lone rider practiced the course, his mount sailing over the obstacles as though lifted on invisible wings. Kim removed the camera lens cover and focused on the horse, feeling his rhythm, pressing the shutter just before the action. It had taken her a while to learn how to time jumping shots, but it had been worth it. Some of her better work had even appeared on the covers of one of the equestrian magazines.
She strolled around the perimeter, concentrating on the action. After about fifteen minutes, the rider trotted toward her.
“Hi, are you the show photographer?”
“No, just getting some general shots for my portfolio. I’m Kim Kovak from Ohio.”
“Clark Jennings from Pasadena, California.” He leaned down and handed Kim a business card. “If you get anything good, I’d be willing to buy prints.”
His bay gelding snorted and pawed the ground, impatient to get back to the barn.
“Thanks, nice to meet you,” said Kim, offering her own card. “I’ll post the proofs on my light-box when I get back.”
