They had finally ventured away from the barn and were out grazing in the field. The scene was peaceful and comforting, like something out of a Monet painting. Which made it that much more amusing when one of the cows suddenly got what Matty assumed was a figurative bug up its behind and launched itself into the air in a frolic-y little dance. She couldn’t help but laugh as the less-than-graceful animal arched and bucked and trotted around the field. The fact that the other cows simply stood and watched the show only made it funnier.
She was still chuckling a few minutes later when the cow finally settled down and resumed eating. It was a far cry from the graceful moves of Short Stuff, but still as entertaining, if not more so.
Short Stuff. Thinking of the foal reminded Matty of Carlo. Grabbing hold of the thread that was now taking shape in her brain, she pulled out the copies of the photos Brad had left in the book for her and thumbed through until she found the picture of the young woman, the picture with no name.
Fingering it, an idea came to her. Picking up her phone, she dialed Vivi’s number.
“Matty,” Vivi answered. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, thanks, but I was thinking. Do you have an ID on the woman in the photo yet?” Matty asked.
Vivi paused and Matty heard her typing away. “Hmm, no, that’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” Matty asked.
“We ran her face through the driver’s license database using facial recognition and nothing came up.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning she doesn’t have a driver’s license. Which is unusual for someone her age.”
“Is there a database of jockeys?” Matty asked.
“Jockeys?”
“Yes, I just met one today and it struck me, he was built like the woman in the picture—tiny frame, not very tall. I know it’s probably a long shot, but it just struck me that maybe she’s a jockey and the picture was taken at the track. It would make sense given that Brad also left the racing form.”
“Hmm,” Vivi said again, typing something else. “There is a database of jockeys since they have to have a license to race. It will take some time to run the recognition program, but it’s worth a try.”
“I could just be seeing connections where there aren’t any,” Matty said cautiously.
“But you never know,” Vivi countered. “Right now we have nothing else to go on with respects to the picture so we’ll take any direction that seems reasonable, and this seems more than reasonable.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, catching up on the case. Though the lab had released Brad’s body, they were still processing evidence and trying to come up with and track down leads. Vivi was confident they were making progress, but backlogs at the lab were making it hard to move as fast as any of them would like. They ended the call with a promise to get together for dinner in the next few days.
When Matty returned to her laptop, she realized focusing on her book was now much easier. And focus she did. She plugged away for several hours and when she finally sat back there were just three or four points she needed to clarify, and for those she’d need Chen.
Thirty minutes later, Chen pulled up her drive, bringing his sleek car to a stop. Matty had thought to just call him and talk over the phone, but when she had, he’d offered to come over, saying he was out and about anyway. When he arrived, she greeted him on the patio and invited him in. They spent a few minutes discussing the funeral plans for Brad. Douglas had won out and the service was scheduled for the following weekend at the church in Windsor where Brad had only occasionally attended services but had often volunteered. The burial itself would be attended by Brad’s parents and immediate family only. Douglas had asked that Matty come, Brad had even mentioned it in his will, but she had yet to decide whether or not she felt comfortable with the idea.
Sandra was intent on not holding a reception in Windsor, so Matty assumed Brad’s parents would be leaving immediately after the burial for a reception of Sandra’s choosing. Matty, on the other hand, was debating whether or not to host a reception in town for Brad’s local friends. She hadn’t landed on an answer yet, but figured she’d have a day or two to sort it all out.
After talking about it all and sharing her indecision, Chen offered his place for a reception should she choose to host one in Windsor. She thanked him, but as she was not prepared to make any further decisions, she changed the topic to her book, the original reason she’d called him over.
They were going over the second to last point she wanted his input on when her phone rang. Seeing it was Vivi, she excused herself and answered.
“You were right,” Vivi said without preamble. “She was a jockey.”
“Was?” Matty asked, her stomach sinking.
“Her name was Courtney Carol, twenty-six years old and a jockey for a number of the local farms. By all accounts, she was good, very good, but not great. And she was killed nine months ago.”
Matty swallowed. “How?”
“A single gunshot wound to the head. Up on an exercise track used for the horses about an hour north of Albany.”
Matty’s eyes sought the quiet view of the cows in the field as her mind processed this information. “Any ties to Brad?”
“We’re looking into it. The bullets don’t match those we pulled out of the victims in Windsor, so we know she wasn’t killed with the same gun. But whether or not it was the same shooter, or if she had anything to do with Brad, or even if she knew him at all, are answers that we will need to find. Now that you have a name, have you seen it anywhere in Brad’s things?”
She mentally went through all the paperwork she’d read through, all the files, and shook her head. “No, it doesn’t ring a bell. But given what we know about the other people in the pictures, is there a chance she might have been involved in something like that?”
“Fraud or skimming funds?” Vivi responded, more mulling it over than asking a question. “We didn’t find anything in her bank statements to indicate that, but you’re right, given the company she was keeping, or rather the company her picture was keeping, we’ll look into it a bit more. And given she was a jockey, we may want to look into the gambling aspect of it as well, fixing races and things like that.”
Matty wasn’t sure what to think of the new information and, after a few more minutes, they said their good-byes and ended the call.
“Everything okay?” Chen asked from the door between the kitchen, where she’d left him, and the office, where she now sat.
She frowned. “I’m not really sure. Vivi, who works in the crime lab in Albany,” she clarified for Chen. “She just ID’d someone in a photo.”
“Someone involved in Brad’s death?” Chen asked, straightening away from the door.
Matty shrugged. “Hard to tell. She was a jockey and she was killed nine months ago. Vivi said they don’t have any obvious ties between her and Brad, but they are looking into it.”
Chen frowned. “I vaguely remember something about this. Was she shot?”
She looked up at Chen in surprise and nodded. “How did you know?”
Chen lifted a shoulder. “My family has horses, we race them around here sometimes. It was a big deal when it happened because there had never been such a seemingly cold-blooded murder in the racing community up here before. By all accounts, she was a good jockey, no rumors floated around about her or anything like that. That was what made it such a memorable event—not only had nothing like that ever happened before, but no one could think of any reason why it had happened to her,” he said.
“Did you know her?” she asked.
Chen shook his head. “No. I don’t get too involved in that part of the family business. My sister is really the one who is most heavily involved in the stables and with the horses, but I asked her about it after it happened. She knew Courtney but had never used her as a jockey for any of our horses. Though she did ride for a few friends of ours,” he added.
“Do you know if she knew Brad
?”
Again, Chen lifted a shoulder. “I never saw them together, but Brad knew a lot of people, it’s possible he knew some of the owners she rode for and maybe met her through them? My sister might know.”
To Matty, anything was possible. But the world of horse racing and jockeys and owners and trainers wasn’t anything she knew much about.
“Do you want to go to the track and ask around? I can take you, if you like,” Chen offered.
For a moment, she considered his offer. He was an owner and would have access to places she wouldn’t if she ever went up to ask around on her own. But what would she find? What would she even ask?
She sighed and shook her head. “Thanks, Chen, I appreciate it, I really do. But I think I’ll leave it to the professionals,” she answered.
He studied her for a moment, as if expecting her to change her mind. When she didn’t, he took a step back and gestured back toward the kitchen with his arm. “In that case, and if you’re ready, perhaps we should finish this up and then maybe we can celebrate the completion of your next best seller.”
At that, Matty let out a small laugh. She had no thoughts as to whether her book would be another best seller or not. It was true, she had several to her credit, but she preferred not to think about it too much and just produce the best book she could every time. But she could definitely get on board with the rest of Chen’s suggestion. So, joining him in the kitchen, she got back to work. But not before putting a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator to chill.
CHAPTER 23
DASH TOOK THE NEXT DAY OFF and he and Matty were having a leisurely and late breakfast on her back porch when Matty’s phone rang. Dash saw her glance at the number before she looked back at him.
“My father,” she said as the phone rang again.
“Are you going to get it?” he asked. He knew she and her father had spoken a few times, but he also knew that she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation—not that he could blame her. That she didn’t trust Douglas was obvious, but she wasn’t unwilling to listen to him either.
Matty quietly debated as the phone rang in her hand then lifted a brow at him, silently asking if he would mind. He shook his head and she rose from the table, answering the call as she walked back into the kitchen and into the office. He watched her retreating figure for a moment then began to clear the table. He was just about to run the hot water in the kitchen sink when the dogs erupted in their usual early-warning style. Matty popped her head into the room, still on the phone, but he gestured to her that he would take care of it. When she disappeared back into the office, he made his way to the door.
Two cars pulled up as he stepped onto the patio. Both looked like rentals, though one was decidedly more sleek and expensive than the other.
A tall man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark suit emerged from the first, more utilitarian car; Dash pegged him as a government man. The second car produced an almost equally tall, stunning woman. She looked to be of mixed ethnicity, definitely some African-American heritage, but also some Caucasian, Asian, and maybe even Spanish. Her long, straight, black hair was pulled back by a clip at the nape of her neck and she wore the kind of outfit that looked like it cost more than Dash’s entire wardrobe. The tailored skirt hugged her hips and long lean legs, and her blouse seemed made specifically for her, whispering across her body. And then there was the jewelry—a thick gold rope necklace and matching bracelet and diamond studs that could probably blind a man if caught in the light the right way.
The two men eyed her as she walked toward the patio. Aside from her general appearance, which was beyond striking, Dash couldn’t help but be impressed by the way she navigated the gravel driveway in heels that should be illegal without appearing to give it a second thought.
Dash cast the man a look, silently asking if they were together. The man shook his head and stepped forward.
“I’m Special Agent Damian Rodriguez with the FBI and also a friend of Ian MacAllister’s. I’m here to see Mathilde Brooks.”
Dash glanced at the woman who had now joined them on the patio. A look of distaste had flashed across her face at the mention of the FBI, and whoever she was, she did not look like a woman you’d want to displease.
“And just what do you want with Matty?” she asked the agent before Dash could do the same.
Special Agent Rodriguez turned his gaze, one that was only slightly higher than the woman’s, toward her. As he watched the two eye each other, Dash realized he now understood the phrase “tension so thick you could cut it with a knife,” and for a moment he wondered if these two had known each other before arriving on Matty’s doorstep.
But then Agent Rodriguez looked away. “It’s FBI business, ma’am,” he said. The woman looked at the agent for another long moment before turning to Dash.
“I’m Charlotte,” she said. “I hope you’ve heard of me because I’ve certainly heard a lot about you.”
Dash saw the agent’s eyebrows go up. There was no mistaking the tone of sisterly conspiracy in Charlotte Lareaux’s voice. And that was what Dash knew her to be: Matty’s closest and oldest friend—close enough to be her sister.
“Charlotte, it’s nice to meet you,” Dash said, holding out his hand. She seemed to debate for a moment how to respond to him, then manners apparently got the better of her and she took his hand in hers. “Matty didn’t mention you were coming up,” he added.
“That’s because Matty didn’t know,” Matty said, stepping out from behind Dash to give her friend a huge hug. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what on earth are you doing here?” she asked as she pulled away, still holding onto Charlotte’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze before stepping back beside Dash.
Charlotte inclined her head and smiled. “Your mom was fretting about, well, you know,” she said with a not very subtle nod of her head toward Dash. “And since she promised not to come until after the funeral, I offered to make the trip myself. Well, actually, it was me or my mom and I figured that, even though I’m nowhere near as good a cook as she is, I’m definitely more fun.”
Dash watched Matty’s face as Charlotte spoke and saw the kind of smile he didn’t often see her wear, one of complete joy and comfort. It spoke volumes about just how close the two women were, and despite the surprise, Dash was glad Charlotte had come—was glad to be seeing this part of Matty’s life.
He cleared his throat and Matty laughed. “Charlotte, this is Dashiell Kent; Dash this is Charlotte,” she made the formal introductions. And then, acknowledging they weren’t alone, Matty turned a questioning gaze on Agent Rodriguez.
The agent introduced himself to Matty just as Ian and Vivi pulled up.
“What’s this about?” Matty asked when Ian and Vivi joined their group.
“Perhaps we can go inside and have a seat somewhere?” Ian suggested after Matty introduced Charlotte to the couple.
“After you introduce me to Damian,” Vivi said. Dash saw Ian blink, as if he couldn’t believe the two didn’t know each other, then made the introductions. To Dash’s surprise, Vivi stepped forward and gave the agent a long hug. Dash, who was standing closest to Agent Rodriguez, heard Vivi say, “I know what you did for Ian when he got back. Thank you.”
When she pulled back, Rodriguez gave her a long look before releasing her back to Ian’s side. Dash looked at the man, then at Ian, and though they were physically different in size and coloring, he could see some similarities—in their builds, in the way they carried themselves.
“You two served together?” he asked. Both men shared a look then nodded. Dash didn’t have a clue what sorts of things they had done as Rangers, but it was clear the bond between them was strong, and based on what he’d heard Vivi say, Rodriguez must have been with Ian when he’d come back to the US. Must have been one of the people who’d helped Ian put his life, and body, back together before he’d come back home to Windsor.
In an obvious effort to lighten the mood, Damian grinned and gestured
with his head toward Vivi, “See, MacAllister, I told you she’s a dead ringer for a young Sophia Loren. Only she looks a lot happier now than she did in her FBI photo I saw a few months ago.”
Dash had never seen Ian look even remotely embarrassed, but he saw a faint rise of color on his friend’s cheeks now. Which made Agent Rodriguez laugh.
Taking pity on her fiancé, Vivi wrapped her arms around him and smiled. “That’s because she is a lot happier now. In every way,” she added, making everyone laugh except Ian, who rolled his eyes.
“Now, can we get on with things?” Ian asked, gesturing inside with the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Vivi. Rising up on her tiptoes, Vivi kissed his cheek before stepping away and leading them all into the house. Matty and Charlotte followed her, the men came in behind them.
After everyone declined the offer of coffee, they sat at the kitchen table and Matty, holding Dash’s hand, looked from Ian to Agent Rodriguez expectantly.
The two seemed to communicate silently with one another, maybe deciding who should go first, when Charlotte broke in. “Well, someone better speak because I have plans for Matty that don’t involve sitting around all morning. No offense,” she said with a nod to Vivi who lifted a shoulder.
“Ian?” Vivi said, prompting him.
Ian opened his mouth, but Agent Rodriguez cut him off with a look at Charlotte. Ian arched a brow in response and sat back.
“Ms.—?” Agent Rodriguez asked Charlotte, who grudgingly provided her last name.
“Ms. Lareaux, this is a federal matter and while I’m sure you are a good friend of Ms. Brooks, the conversation we need to have is about an ongoing investigation—an investigation everyone else here has been a part of—and isn’t one we can have in front of people not involved,” he continued.
These Sorrows We See Page 32
