by Toni Leland
“Police officers injured in post-game riot.”
Columbus, Ohio—Three Columbus Metro police officers, including one mounted patrolman, were injured in Saturday night’s post-game riot. Fueled by copious quantities of alcohol and an OSU victory over Michigan, hundreds of fans thronged the streets, setting fire to trash cans, breaking windows of homes in the area, and tipping over two parked vehicles. Police were already on hand during the game, anticipating trouble from this historic rivalry, but well before the game ended, reinforcements were called in. The riot turned ugly and, at some point, shots were fired. Mounted police officer Kim Kovak caught a bullet in the leg and her horse was badly injured. The animal was destroyed at the scene…
Quaid’s mouth went dry, his brain on fire. It couldn’t be the same person. Could it? If it was, that might explain the attitude. Maybe she was working undercover. Nah, she was too good with that camera. Then he squinted at the screen. Once a cop, always a cop. He’d bet money that she was still working—if this was the same person. He punched her name into the image database and scanned the returned images. There she was, in full uniform, that red hair pulled back under a riding helmet, a big chestnut horse at her side.
He grinned. “Officer Kovak. You. Are. Busted.”
Quaid printed the article, then turned back to the Talisman case. Jasper Martin lived in Altadena and the best way to get a handle on this guy and what he was up to would be to go out there and snoop around.
~~
Kim pulled into an empty spot at the far end of a grassy field where dozens of vehicles and horse trailers were parked in a not-so-orderly manner. She retrieved her camera bag and locked the car, then wended her way through the trailers and trucks, following the sound of the announcer. The closer she came to the arena, the more activity she encountered. Horses tacked up and tied to trailers, waiting for their turn. Owners and riders polishing tack or adjusting helmet straps. The occasional smile or nod.
Kim loved outdoor shows. They seemed more friendly and relaxed, though the jumper circuit was one of the more competitive areas of horsemanship. Still, the fresh air and sunshine seemed to energize everyone involved. She pulled off the lens cover and drifted through the area, framing candid shots that might work well for a general show article in one of the riding magazines.
The announcer called for a ten minute break and Kim headed toward the show secretary’s post.
“I’m Kim Kovak. May I have one of your schedules?”
The girl looked up, then down at Kim’s camera. “Did you check in with the show steward yet?”
“Oh, I’m not here officially, just enjoying the show.”
“You’ll still need to leave your name with the steward.” She handed over a sheet of paper with the classes, then went back to what she’d been doing.
Kim found the steward and made her presence known, then walked to the arena to begin work in earnest, capturing the beautiful athletes as they soared over the elaborate obstacles.
After two hours, Kim’s feet began to ache and she headed for the wooden bleachers. A quick glance at the schedule told her that this event would go for many more hours. Each class seemed to have a lot of entrants, but the field would narrow as the afternoon progressed. She watched young girls guide their horses through the pattern, amazed at how well some of the youngsters could ride. But then, they’d probably been at it since they were little girls with pony passion. Kim remembered the feeling well. How she’d longed for that fat little Welsh Pony that had finally graced her grandfather’s pasture on the day Kim turned twelve.
She let her mind wander back through those happy years with Scout. He was undoubtedly the most obnoxious horse alive, but she adored him and always forgave him for dumping her at least once on every ride. It was a good thing Grandpa saw more than one of those incidents because, otherwise, she would never have learned to ride a real horse.
A young rider came into the arena on a sturdy palomino and Kim exhaled sharply. The horse was almost identical to her first show pony. She lifted the camera and began capturing images of the dream that had carried her through those horse crazy years to adulthood.
A few minutes later, Kim’s breath caught in her throat as two familiar people appeared in the viewfinder. She zoomed in and a chill ran over her shoulders. She was looking at the couple who had appeared in her other show photos. She clicked off several shots, then lowered the camera and gazed around. The riders were mostly students and amateurs. She turned her attention back to the horses in the waiting area. They were all nice, some even very good, but not spectacular. Kim looked back at the couple and watched them move casually around the rail toward the in-gate. She climbed down and headed that way herself, heart thumping. Stopping at the end of the bleachers, she focused on the woman’s face and snapped off two shots, then found the man in the viewfinder. Her finger froze over the shutter button. He was looking directly at her, his eyes dark with concentration.
Kim busied herself with going through the motions of adjusting her camera settings, all the while watching the couple from the corner of her eye. She sat down, just to make it appear that she was intent on what she was doing. The man said something to the woman, then looked Kim’s way again, sending a jolt through her pulse. He headed toward the show secretary’s booth, but Kim stayed focused on the woman lingering by the rail. A few minutes later, the man returned and the two of them headed toward the grassy area where all the trailers were parked. Kim rose slowly and made her way to the in-gate, keeping track of the couple’s location. They wandered casually through the staging area, stopping occasionally to speak to a rider or stroke a horse’s neck. Kim stayed a good distance back, snapping off several shots when they stopped to talk. The man glanced back once, but Kim was well hidden behind a pickup truck, watching him through the windows. He scanned the area, then nodded to the woman and they walked briskly toward the car parking area. Kim followed as best she could without being spotted.
They climbed into a small red sedan and Kim scurried closer to get a good shot of the license plate. Just as she pressed the shutter button, a horse and rider walked in front of her.
By the time the horse moved out of the way, the car was gone.
~~
Quaid knew he should give it some time, but it was worth a shot. Dixie had been on his mind nonstop. When she’d declined the first dinner invitation, she’d seemed genuinely apologetic. Maybe she really did have a previous commitment. What would it hurt if he tried again? If she shut him down this time, he’d at least know for sure.
She answered on the second ring. “Hi Garrett, I was just thinkin’ about you.”
He tried to sound cool. “Yeah? Well, I’m headed back your way this afternoon. Want to try for that dinner again?”
“I’d love to. What time and where?”
Seconds later, Quaid disconnected. “Yesss!”
He jumped up and looked at his watch. His impromptu plans didn’t leave him much time for the trip back to Columbus, but he didn’t care. A quick shower and he’d be on his way to see the lovely Dixie Davis. Even though he knew better than to date a girl who carried a gun.
Chapter 12
All Kim’s instincts and training surfaced, convincing her she was on to something. Too far fetched for the mystery couple to be owners in so many places. The most likely scenario was that the couple who showed up in all the photographs were scouts for possible theft. Or they were scoping out look-alikes.
She sat in her car, fingers trembling as she dialed Dixie’s number. She needed to bounce some of this stuff off another person.
“Hi Kim. What’s up?”
“I think I’ve stumbled onto something. Can we get together and talk later tonight?”
“Sure, but you sound frazzled. Everything okay?”
The unmistakable sound of background laughter came through the phone. “Yeah, but where are you?”
Dixie chuckled and lowered her voice. “Having dinner with your new best friend.”
“
Quaid?”
“The very same. I’ll come over when I get home.”
Kim mumbled something and hung up. If Dixie was hooking up with Garrett Quaid, then Kim couldn’t possibly talk about her suspicions. But maybe Dixie was doing the honorable thing, telling Quaid that she wasn’t the girl for him. Maybe. Kim’s confident thoughts faltered. Dixie had sounded a little too pleased with the date. Besides, if she was going to tell Quaid about her sexual persuasion, why do it in person?
“Dammit! Why do I care? I’m not the girl for him either.”
~~
Quaid watched Dixie’s face as she talked on the phone. She almost looked as though she was talking to someone she cared about deeply. A boyfriend? A twinge of jealousy ran through his chest. Maybe he was assuming too much. Anyone as good-looking as Dixie would most likely have someone, right? But then, why was she sitting here with him, batting those beautiful blue eyes over the rim of her wine glass?
He grinned as she hung up. “Fan club?”
She chuckled. “No, just my neighbor.”
Quaid searched his memory of the last time he’d been with her. Something about neighbors, but he couldn’t remember what. Way too much beer for good detail retention.
Dixie tilted her head and a wisp of blond hair brushed her cheek. “You remember Kim? The photographer?”
Quaid’s jaw dropped. That’s right, they’re best friends.
“Oh, yeah, the redhead. She’s an ex-cop, right?”
Dixie’s expression froze and, for a moment, she didn’t even blink.
“Where did you hear that?”
Quaid’s expertise in all things other than women wouldn’t help him now. “Uh, I came across an article about her.” He pursed his lips and blew out a soft breath. “You didn’t know?”
Dixie just stared at him, then pushed her drink aside. “You must be mistaken, it’s probably about someone else with the same name. I’ve known Kim for almost a year and I’m sure she would have said something.”
No way would Quaid pursue this. Even though he’d seen the photograph of Kim in uniform, he knew better than to try to push the point.
“You’re probably right. It’s not an uncommon name.” He found his most charming smile. “So, Miss Dixie, what would you like to have for dinner?”
Though she smiled, her manner was brittle, and Quaid knew the magic of the evening had just disappeared like a rabbit in a hat.
~~
On the drive home from the charity show, Kim wrestled with all the possible scenarios that presented themselves. If she was right—if this couple were scouts for possible look-alike horses—then the Talisman case took on a much broader scope. Was this a theft ring of national or even international scale? The man and woman were getting around to horse shows at a fairly steady rate, but maybe they weren’t the only scouts involved. Especially if the situation extended to other countries. What if she could match up the places she’d seen this couple with information about stolen or missing horses in the same region? Would it prove anything? Maybe not, but at least it might solidify her suspicions.
Dixie’s truck wasn’t in its usual spot and Kim frowned. Had Dixie slept with Quaid that first night? Kim closed her eyes and exhaled sharply. Why did she keep worrying about this stuff? It wasn’t like she wanted Quaid for herself. More like she wanted Dixie to herself and to keep Quaid out of it. He was already an obstacle to any conversations she and Dixie might have about the Talisman case.
Miss Kitty waited at the door, complaining loudly about being left alone all day. Kim chuckled and headed for the refrigerator.
“Hold on, girlie. You’ll get it in a minute.”
After feeding the cat, Kim settled onto the couch with a glass of Merlot and picked up her phone. As she dialed Dixie’s number, someone knocked on the door.
She opened it and grinned. “Great minds think alike.”
Dixie’s expression was strained. “Yeah, must be some psychic thing we have for each other.”
Kim’s alarm system went off. Something was not right, and that something probably involved Quaid.
Dixie glanced at Kim’s wine glass. “Got some more of that?”
Kim poured the wine, her brain trying to sort out a reason for Dixie’s mood. She’d never seen her like this. What could have happened that had upset her?
“How was your dinner?”
“Fine. We went to Brio’s, had the crab cakes.” Dixie didn’t sound enthused.
Kim took a soft breath. “I can see that something’s wrong. What did Quaid do, try to put the moves on you?”
Anger flashed across Dixie’s pretty face. “Dammit, Kim, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m a freak! Don’t you think I can handle myself?”
Stunned, Kim stammered, “Of course. I just don’t understand why you’re fooling around with the guy.”
“I happen to enjoy good company. He’s interesting, he makes me laugh. I have a number of men friends.” She took a lingering sip of wine, then looked directly into Kim’s eyes.
“You want to tell me about your police background?”
Surprise slammed through Kim’s stomach and her mouth flew open. “How did you…Oh, God, Dixie…”
Silence pressed in around them and Kim couldn’t bear Dixie’s hostile expression.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Dixie rose and retrieved the wine bottle from the counter. She topped up both glasses, then sat back and gazed at Kim.
“So tell me now.”
“I spent ten years with the Mounted Unit of the Columbus Division of Police.” Kim’s voice softened. “I loved it, had a great horse, a big chestnut named Red.” Her throat ached. “Most of the time, I worked the parks and some traffic, but occasionally, we were called on for crowd control. Anyway, after one of the important university home football games, the crowd went crazy. Some asshole started firing a gun. My horse went down and shattered his leg. I caught a bullet.” Tears stung her eyes. “They destroyed Red right in front of me while I was being loaded into an ambulance.”
Dixie moved closer to Kim, her voice filled with compassion. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry...”
Kim shook off the horrible images. “I spent quite a while in surgery, then months in rehab. But the real damage was done up here, in my head. I finally had to retire. I couldn’t go back.”
~~
Quaid rolled into his driveway well past midnight. A long drive for such a disappointing evening. Dixie had been just fine until he’d opened his big mouth about that photographer. Why had he done that? Jeezus! Would he never learn? Without a doubt, Dixie knew nothing about Kim Kovak’s police background. At least not until tonight. And that had been the end of any chance for a romantic evening. What puzzled him was, why would Kovak keep that information from her best friend? It certainly made the case for her working undercover. How could he find out what she was after?
He let himself into the house and flipped on all the lights, a habit he’d acquired since his retirement from the Army. He’d spent enough time in dark places that he didn’t need to do it at home too. He flopped down in front of the television and fiddled with the remote. This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend the night.
Chapter 13
First thing Monday morning, Quaid made a cup of instant coffee and headed straight for his computer. All the leads and questions in his mind needed to be answered, or at least checked, before he started poking around in Jasper Martin’s life. Opening his notebook, he looked at the list.
Point 1: Alleged secret mark on the real Talisman. Why hadn’t Jasper revealed what it was at their first meeting? Fake lead? If real identification mark, it should be on the horse’s records.
Point 2: The overly-long time it took the horse to travel from Altadena to Ohio. Talk to the transport company.
Point 3: Ice storm in Texas. Check weather reports for those dates. Verify with the driver.
Point 4: Background check on Teri For
tune’s finances.
Point 5: Find Roberta Dodge.
Quaid started with Talisman’s file. The photograph was of no help because, of course, it looked exactly like the horse standing in the stall at that moment. Quaid examined the registration paper carefully. The horse had no markings and no record of a microchip or other identifying medium. Quaid sat back and frowned. Why wouldn’t a valuable horse have some way to positively identify him?
He blew out a hard breath and picked up the phone number for the transport company, only to realize he’d have to wait until midday to call a California outfit. He scowled at the screen, then opened the browser and looked for the weather history. Minutes later, he found it: the worst freak ice storm in a decade had inundated the Texas Panhandle during the timeframe that Teri had given.
Quaid did some mental gymnastics.
Suppose the driver was in on the theft. Having a weather layover would be a perfect cover for the crime. But how could he or she have anticipated such a perfect and un-forecasted opportunity? And how would one carry out an elaborate switch on short notice? The look-alike horse would have to be in place already, or close by. Where did animal transports stop for overnights and weather-related delays? You didn’t just pull over on the side of the interstate with a load of animals. No, it didn’t seem reasonable that the driver was part of the plan.
But how would the criminals know the truck would have to stop because of the storm? Maybe they didn’t know, but followed the truck knowing the driver would have to stop for rest and food at many places along the way. It didn’t make sense that the perpetrators of the switch would purposely pick an ice storm to carry it out. Was this nothing more than a crime of opportunity?
