Her curiosity aroused, she figured it couldn't hurt to do a bit of snooping around Kathleen's office. She first checked to make sure that Josh and Olivia were still out on the deck. They were. Then she rummaged through a few drawers. The photos she'd discovered had been moved. What she was looking for, she didn't know.
But she didn't expect what she did find tucked in with some files inside a leather ottoman that also served as a space saver. She pulled out a file marked "CHARLIE SAMPSON." The Sampson ranch! Charlie Sampson had been Audrey's husband. Michaela opened it up and found an old insurance policy, one that Audrey had taken out on herself with her late husband as beneficiary. An addendum had changed the beneficiaries to Bob Pratt and Kathleen Bowen. The policy's face value was three million dollars. Good grief! With Bob out of the picture, Kathleen stood to inherit a ton of money.
Michaela heard the sliders close, and she quickly put the file back inside the ottoman. As she closed the lid, Josh said, "Looking for something?" He stood in the doorway.
"No. I had seen one of these ottomans in the Pottery Barn catalogue and just wondered how they worked. Great idea. Space saver thing, you know." She yawned. "I am beat. Everything good with Olivia?"
"I think so. She's agreed to go with me and talk to her dad. He'll want to help. It's the right thing to do. Thanks for calling me."
"Not a problem."
"Hey, I know it's getting late, but I think your trailer is ready. Juan mentioned it to me today."
"I need to get back home." The last thing she wanted to do was drive to the Bowen Ranch, even if it meant getting her trailer back and picking up Geyser. "I'll be here Saturday for the Eq Tech Gala."
"Oh good. I'm going."
She nodded. "I'll either pick it up Sunday morning, or I may send my assistant to do it."
"Sure."
Michaela left, sighing as she closed the front door behind her. Josh had eyed her suspiciously a minute ago, and she wasn't sure she trusted him. Hell, she wasn't sure who she trusted. She had run the idea of Hugh murdering Audrey over again and again in her head, and it didn't sit right. She couldn't fathom it. But the boss man she'd heard Juan and Enrique referring to still had her wondering who that might be. Was it Josh? They all worked at the same place, and Josh held a higher position than either one of the Perez brothers. But now she had all of these other pieces not adding up. Terrell, Cara Klein, Kathleen, and Marshall Friedman. She had a long drive ahead of her. Maybe she'd be able to flesh out her thoughts.
But her thoughts were cut off when she received a call from Ethan. "You'd better come," he said. "It's Rocky."
FORTY-ONE
MICHAELA BARELY REMEMBERED THE DRIVE DOWN to San Diego. She was a mess. Thank God the traffic was moving and a California Highway Patrol guy didn't spot her speeding, because she probably wouldn't have stopped until she made it to the center.
The grounds of the Rocovich Center were well lit. She told the guard at the kiosk who she was, and he waved her through. Ethan was waiting for her.
"What is it? What happened?"
Ethan shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I don't know. We've got him stable now. He's comfortable. I've sedated him some, and we're going through the paces again with the labs. His pressure went up after he ate, along with his cortisol and other hormone levels. He had a seizure, Mick."
"Oh no." Her stomach sank as a wave of horror made her feel dizzy.
"We're testing him for Cushing's disease, which typically doesn't occur in a horse as young as he is, but we need to rule it out. He doesn't look like he has it. He doesn't have the potbelly, or lethargy and a thick crusty neck. Those are symptoms we would likely see with that disease. So, I'm also looking into hypothyroidism, which is pretty rare. It's hard to differentiate between the two though, because with either illness we're going to see the rise in cortisol levels and other hormones. Now his glucose levels aren't way off, and he does not seem excessively thirsty, so I don't think we're looking at diabetes. There are a handful of other possibilities I'm checking into. He could have a tumor on his pituitary gland, either benign or malignant. I just don't know yet. What I need you to do is detail his history for me. Obviously I know what his environment is like, but I want you to write out his daily schedule: workouts, feedings, all of it. I have his medical history. And, we have to look at his entire system: cardiac, respiratory, everything. The thing is, seizures are fairly uncommon in horses. They can be difficult to diagnose. I've ruled out liver or renal disease. I've also been able to rule out hyperkalemia, which is a muscle disorder found in certain lines of quarter horses that can be confused with seizure activity. I've had a CT scan and MRI done on him and neither shows any type of cerebral edema. And, I'm running an EEG. He's been started on Diazepam to control any recurrence of a seizure tonight."
Michaela held up her hand. She'd had enough vet talk. "Can I see him?"
"Of course. We have him in a padded stall, and we've considered putting a padded helmet on him, just in case he goes down again. Right now though, his levels have started dropping and the Diazepam appears to be doing the job. I'm sorry, Mick. We'll find out what's wrong, and take care of him."
She followed Ethan through large steel double doors, where the mixture of antiseptic and familiar horse smells wafted through the air. They passed a surgical suite and walked through another set of doors. Once past them, Michaela spotted Rocky and tears sprung to her eyes. He was inside a stall with his head hung low.
She slid through the stall door and wrapped her arms around Rocky's neck, stroking him underneath his mane. "Hey guy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. They're going to make you better, okay? I promise. Then, I'm going to take you home and spoil you with carrots and molasses and a handful of mares." She smiled through her tears, knowing that if he could really understand her, he would've liked the sound of all that. He was such a great animal. She hated seeing him like this. It tore at her heart, her core. God, she loved him. She stayed in his stall for over an hour like that, talking to him and stroking him, while Ethan left them alone. Rocky did seem to perk up, knowing that she was there.
When Ethan came back it was past eleven and her body and mind felt exhausted. "Listen," he said, "I know you won't want to check into a hotel; we have beds here. They aren't great, but you can get some sleep, and that way we can be close by and check on him through the night."
"I don't want to leave him."
"You won't be. We'll be right through those doors, and you can come in anytime and see how he is. He looks pretty happy right now. Once he knew you were here, I noticed he relaxed even more. Come on, I've made you some tea."
She sighed and squeezed Rocky's neck. "I'll be back. Okay. I suppose I could use something to drink.
"And eat? I had a pizza delivered."
"I don't know if I can eat much."
"Give it a try. You won't be doing him any good by starving yourself. Now come on."
She followed Ethan into a break room, where he had the pizza set out. She'd noticed a few other techs and vets in and out since she'd been there, but as the night wore on it grew quiet, which was good. She didn't feel like talking to anyone she didn't know.
They sat down and started in on their late dinner, eating in peace for a few minutes. She decided maybe it was time to lighten the mood. "Won't be long until you'll be a dad."
He smiled. "Yeah, I know. Cool. Some day, it'll be you. You'll be a mom."
"Maybe."
"I'm worried about you, Mick. You look tired to me. Exhausted, actually."
"Well, you look like you're having sympathy for your pregnant wife, or are you trying to match her on the weight gain?" she chided.
"Hey!"
"You told me that I looked exhausted. I can't jab you back a little?"
"It's only a few pounds. Maybe five."
"Or ten."
"You're a pain in the ass."
"So are you. You really ready to be a dad?"
"You know what? I am. I can't wait for this kid to be here
. We are going to do everything together."
"I bet you will."
"Summer and I may have had a rough start, but things have calmed down a lot, and I know she isn't the perfect wife, or…Wait, let me rephrase that: She actually is the perfect wife; she just may not always be my perfect fit. She's a bit too perfect. Hell, who am I kidding? I know I should be home with her right now, but she's just so moody, almost angry all the time." Michaela listened and decided not to put in her two cents. "But she loves me, and I do love her. I really do." Michaela wondered who he was trying to convince of that—her or himself. "I know in my gut that we'll make great parents together. And, I can't wait to be a dad."
"I think that's wonderful."
"It is. Hey, while you're here, do you want to take a look at Halliday?"
"Yeah." She followed him through two large steel doors that led into the intensive care area. It was as sterile as any human hospital. Classical music played softly over the speakers.
"Over here is the hydrotherapy pool." They walked into a separate room with a large pool and a sling off to the side with a lift and pulley setup. Ethan said, "Halliday has spent quite a bit of time in this already, and throughout his rehab he'll spend more time. We get him into the sling and pull him into the water, where he is able to move freely, to help keep his muscles from deteriorating. And also to keep his spirits up. Horses want to move, so the hard part for these guys when they break a leg is making sure they don't lose it mentally. It's a shame that he has to go through this. Come on, he's over here."
They walked through another set of double doors. The new area wasn't quite as antiseptic smelling, but there still was that faint scent of alcohol. Michaela took in more of the normal horse-related smells that she was used to—straw, hay, manure, and horse. There were four stalls in the area. Two were occupied, one with Halliday.
"That's Rosa in there. Came in here for colic surgery yesterday. She's doing much better. Here he is."
Halliday looked up from his feeder. He was in a sling, which held his feet slightly off the ground, but he nickered as they said hello to him. "Poor guy," Michaela said.
"No doubt, but see how bright his eyes are? He's going to make it, Mick, I feel it. And when he does, I'm sure he'll command quite a stud fee."
"Doesn't bode well for the racing industry, does it?"
"What do you mean? Halliday injuring himself?"
"No, what I'm talking about is all that goes into the racehorse and then when he's injured, possibly even a fatal injury, human greed takes over. What do you think of racing in general?"
"You know, people have been racing horses for centuries, and tons of different breeds. Yes, you see some greed out there. You'll see track owners get their dirt padding down to next to nothing hoping to increase speed and get a record time on their track. It happens, and there are a lot of owners who are against those types of practices. Many of them will pull their horses out of those races. Many won't because of the fines that are put into place by doing so, and by the bureaucratic crap that goes along with it. A lot of owners don't want to make waves. They love their animals, but this can be a money-making business and there is a lot of power and control that goes into it. That said, am I against racing horses? Not really. These animals are built to do this. It's what they're bred for. Now, get Halliday out into a pasture and he'll be a happy retired animal. But, there will still be that thread inside of him that pushes him to want to run, and get him on a track when all of this is said and done, and he'll feel compelled to break out. What I don't like about racing—or any type of event for that matter when it comes to animals—is exploitation of animals of any kind. Racing tends to have gotten that bad rap over the years, because in many cases it fits."
They gave Halliday some attention and then headed to where the cots were set up. Ethan gave her a pair of sweats and a clean T-shirt from his bag. "I know they'll be huge on you, but at least they're clean."
"Thanks."
"Well, I'll let you get some rest."
"Ethan?"
"Yes?"
"Will you stay me with me? I don't want to be alone."
He studied her for a few seconds. "Yeah. I'll stay."
FORTY-TWO
MICHAELA AND ETHAN TALKED INTO THE WEE hours and took turns checking on Rocky, who remained stable throughout the night. It felt like old times between them. They talked about horses, his unborn son, a bit more about Summer. Ethan brought up Jude, but Michaela quickly changed the subject. She also let him in on what she'd been up to over the past week concerning Audrey and Francisco's murders and Bob's disappearance,
"Mick, I've got to agree with your detective boyfriend on this one. Don't mess with it," Ethan said.
"First off, I don't have a boyfriend and second, I feel like I'm close to figuring this out. I'm pretty certain that I have all of the pieces. I'm just not sure how they fit together. Like this thing with Kathleen and Halliday. I know how she can cover his expenses now."
"Oh, yeah. How?"
Michaela explained to Ethan about Olivia and the contract she'd signed with Friedman and Callahan, as well as the old insurance policy.
"She sure sounds like a suspect," Ethan said.
"I know. But so does everyone else."
Ethan agreed with that assessment after she'd finished detailing the week's dramas. "Hey, Ethan?"
"Hmmm?" he asked, sounding like sleep was ready to take over.
"Thank you."
He propped himself up onto his elbow. A night-light that he'd turned on so she'd know how to maneuver if she needed to get up in the middle of the night cast shadows across his face. "For what?"
"For taking care of Rocky, and for listening to me. I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too, Mick." He lay back down.
Michaela rolled over onto her side and surprisingly, fell asleep after a few moments. Even though it had been a late night, she woke up before seven the next morning, as the center came to life. Ethan showed her where she could shower.
"I put your clothes in the wash last night, while you changed into my sweats. By the way, they look good on you, even if they're a size too big."
"A size? Try a few sizes."
He winked at her. "I got up early and put them in the dryer. There they are." He pointed to a desk in the room where they'd slept. He'd even folded them for her.
"Thanks. I think I will take that shower, after I check my horse."
Rocky appeared to be fine. Ethan had changed up his diet, so he was being fed in smaller increments and more than twice a day. He checked all of his levels after each feeding.
After getting dressed, Michaela poured herself a cup of coffee in the break room, and waited around for the rest of Rocky's test results. She checked her messages. Joe called and told her it was important to call him back.
"I got an address for Cara Klein. And she is the same woman who was dating Bob Pratt, and she did work for both Strong X and Eq Tech, but she was in their marketing departments."
"I thought that she owned Strong X."
"Don't know about that."
"Where is she?"
"She's in a hospice facility in San Diego. She has cancer." Michaela did remember Josh telling her that the woman Bob had been seeing was sick. Cancer? He gave her the address. "That is all we can get on her. Other than that, she was clean. That's all I know. But I did learn something else: There is a connection between Strong X and Terrell Jardinière."
"What's that?"
"Terrell was a spokesman for the company. Rumor has it that the supplements he was taking from them were what caused his stroke. Kind of similar to that company that gave Barry Bonds those supplements that supposedly don't have no connection with steroids." Joe snorted.
"Oh my God. I've got to go, Joe. I'll call you later." Michaela went searching for Ethan.
"What is it?" he asked. One look at her face must have told him that something was wrong.
"That file that I gave you from Bob. The one Audrey had…"
"Yeah?"
"Have you looked at it yet?"
"No. I meant to, but then Rocky took that turn and—"
"You need to. When I looked at it, it looked to me like a grouping of horses, not just one case. You need to look at which of those horses were on Eq Tech supplements. I think that something in those supplements could be hurting the horses. It's what's making them sick."
"What?"
"Can you break down the chemical components in the supplements?"
"Someone here can."
"Do it. I've got to see someone. I'll be back."
"Mick, where are you going?
"Just trust me. It's in the supplements."
She left to speak with Cara Klein, who she knew would provide the missing link.
FORTY-THREE
MICHAELA DROVE TO AN AREA CALLED MISSION Valley, northeast of downtown San Diego. The hospice sat high up on a hill overlooking the valley and the many freeways that crisscrossed the area.
Entering, Michaela felt a bit nervous not knowing what she would learn, if anything, that might help find Audrey's killer. A nurse greeted her. "May I help you?"
"I'm here to see Cara Klein. I'm Michaela Bancroft." This woman was way friendlier than the nurse at the home that Terrell was in.
She checked a roster. "I'm sorry, but I don't see you on the list of visitors. I can ask if she'd like to see you."
Michaela nodded. "Tell her that it's about Bob Pratt."
The nurse looked at her oddly, but nodded and walked down the hall. She returned a minute later and told Michaela that Cara was in room 219 and would see her. She walked to the room, where she found a tiny woman lying in bed. She couldn't have been over thirty-five; she had no hair, her face was pulled taut, and her hazel eyes seemed glossed over. She smiled weakly at Michaela and said, "Hi."
The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 Page 42
