by Leigh Hearon
“Holy crap!”
“Dan, quiet! We’re in a church.” A man in a dark suit walked silently past them and gave Dan a distinct look of disapproval. Dan got up and motioned Annie to do the same. They walked outside into the vestibule, now empty. The reception was being held in the chancery, and Annie assumed most people already were there. It was one o’clock, and her stomach growled. She hoped that Eloise’s family had put food on the tables besides tea and coffee—substantial food, not just cheese and crackers.
“Sorry, Annie. But we found Pete’s and Ashley’s fingerprints all over the camp. I assumed they were still a couple at the time of her death.”
“Only for outward appearances. According to Lisa, Ashley was back living with Pete but had started seeing someone new during their brief separation.”
“Who is he? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Afraid I’m going to have to. Ashley never told her friends who her new beau was.”
Dan groaned and leaned on the stone pillars behind him. “She must have told someone.”
“We can only hope. How long until DNA tests are done?”
“We put in the usual rush order, but we’re still looking several weeks out. Suwana County doesn’t rank very high on the triage list in Olympia. Not when King County gives them most of their business.”
“Well, I’m going to see Lisa this afternoon. I’ve been helping her with a sick horse. I’ll try to get more information, and talk to some of the other girls.”
“Whoa now, Annie. You’ve gone far enough. You’ve done exactly what we wanted you to do—ferret out information that Kim wasn’t able to get. We’ll take it from here. You want to help a kid with her sick horse, be my guest. But no more sleuthing.”
His blunt fiat brought Annie’s blood pouring into her face. She glared at Dan. “You can’t just ask me to do something and then, after I perform beautifully, pull me off the case on a whim.”
“I do that every day with twenty-five deputies. And it’s not a whim; it’s a reasoned law enforcement decision.”
“Well, I’m not one of your deputies.”
“No, you’re not. Which is why you should stop acting like one now and go on home. Anyway, I have to run. I’m already late for my meeting. Good work, Annie. We’ll talk later.”
For a large man, Dan could move surprisingly fast when he knew he was about to get verbally reamed.
* * *
Five minutes later, with most of her equilibrium restored, she decided to pay her respects to the Carr family. After all, Martha and Lavender were there, so she wouldn’t be among total strangers, something Annie abhorred. Wandering down much more modern halls than the august sanctuary would have suggested, she found the chancery by the sound. Laughter was coming from the room, which suggested that the people who’d come to pay their respects to the deceased had evolved to the stage of telling good stories and recalling fond memories.
Martha was talking to Jane Carr, while Lavender was in earnest conversation with Ron. Annie hesitated, then decided to take care of her own comforts first. After six ham canapés, two chicken wraps, and two cups of hot tea, Annie felt revived enough to join the party. As she picked up an éclair from the dessert table, a man about her age looked at her with amusement.
“Nice to see a woman who isn’t afraid to show her appetite.”
Annie could have taken umbrage at this remark, but chose not to. After all, she was technically still in a church, and besides, she really was sated with good food. Also, she suspected the speaker was a member of the Carr family.
“Glad you’re enjoying the show. When you own a ranch, you tend to work up an appetite. Several times a day.”
The man smiled. “Good for you. My wife eats like a bird. Drives me nuts. I’m Ron Carr the Third, by the way.”
“Annie Carson. I met your father a few days ago at the high school. I thought it was nice of him to attend Ashley’s service.”
“Well, up until now he thought the world of her. She did such a good job of taking care of Nana Ellie. Now, he’s not so sure. I guess the evidence is beginning to point to homicide, which is pretty unbelievable to take in.”
“Really? The sheriff hasn’t shared that with me yet.” As if he would, her Good Angel reminded her.
“He showed us a couple of keys this morning, before the service. Ones that Ashley had on her when she died, I guess. One of them was Nana Ellie’s house key. Since Elder Home Care still has the one we gave them way back when, Ashley must have stolen it from Nana’s home.”
Annie remembered Dan showing her the keys as well. One looked like an ordinary house key. It must be the one to which her grandson was now referring.
“You said there were two keys. Did you recognize the second one?”
“Nope. Odd-looking one, too.”
For some reason, Annie felt compelled to stick up a bit for the dead girl.
“I can see how troubling it must be to realize that Ashley essentially had free rein of your grandmother’s house. Do you think there’s any chance that she gave Ashley an extra key, just in case?”
“Completely against company rules. If Nana didn’t answer the door, Ashley’s instructions were to call in to her supervisor. But that’s not all. Sheriff Dan said Ashley recently had been arrested for possession of drugs without a prescription. I think it’s pretty clear that Ashley was helping herself to Nana’s pills and selling them on the street.”
“I see you’ve met Annie, son.” Ron Junior had approached them without her noticing. She did notice, however, that he now had recovered his composure. All earlier signs of grief had disappeared.
“I was admiring her exemplary appetite, as compared to my wife’s.” The two men exchanged a look. There’s more to that story than I’ll ever know, Annie thought. Maybe the wife was anorexic or bulimic. She looked around for an emaciated woman and saw the woman who’d earlier been holding the baby. She’d taken off her jacket, and Annie could see her pencil-thin arms and nearly transparent frame. You wouldn’t be able to pull a single hundred-ten-pound bale of hay off a truck, Annie thought, let alone stack it.
Ron Junior turned to Annie and smiled.
“Thank you for coming today. I know you didn’t know my mother, but I appreciate the gesture. And I keep hearing good things about you wherever I go. Sheriff Dan tells me you’re involved in reclaiming that ranch up north, the one that was burned to the ground. He says you’re turning it into a nonprofit for troubled youth.”
We’re in the infancy stages, for heaven’s sake. Sheriff Dan should keep his mouth shut more often. Annie smiled back.
“That’s right. Travis Latham—do you know him?—wants to turn it into a working ranch for young men at risk. The current owner thinks it’s a great idea. He has no interest in rebuilding the equestrian buildings on the same scale as before and wants a more rough-and-tumble environment. We’re just now starting the process of transferring the property over to Travis, who in turn will deed it to the not-for-profit organization that will manage the operation.”
“Sounds just like something Travis would do,” Ron replied. “He’s quite the legend in these parts—built his investment company from scratch, made a fortune, and then got emotionally flattened by the death of his grandson. I remember going to that memorial service. Not a dry eye in the house.”
“Yes, Alex’s tragic death is the impetus for this project. Travis wanted to find a way to honor his grandson’s life and try to help the kind of boys who were responsible for his death.”
“I’ve been wondering how that property would reinvent itself.” Ron took out a leather business card holder from his back pocket and handed Annie a card. “If you need any help with the closing, let me know.”
Annie looked at the card and then at Ron with undisguised surprise. It read: “Carr & Sons. Three generations of real estate experience. Call for a free appraisal today.” Wasn’t soliciting business at your mother’s memorial service just a bit tacky?
“You’re a
real estate agent?” The words were out before she could stop them.
“Yes, indeed. I’m the second generation, Trey here is the third. And it won’t be long before little Marky over there with his mom becomes the next Carr to take over the business. Isn’t that right, Trey?”
Trey looked a bit uncomfortable at his father’s boasting; she didn’t blame him. Either that or he hated the nickname “Trey.”
“Well, thanks for the offer, but since the owner and Travis are on the same page, I’m not sure we need a real estate agent’s help. There’s not much to negotiate. But I’ll pass along your card at our next meeting.”
“I understand.” His face displayed a trace of disappointment that his words did not. “It’s a real good thing that Travis is doing. You tell him I said so.”
“Will do.”
She said a hurried hello-and-good-bye to Martha and Lavender before leaving. Martha, as predicted, had known Eloise through her bridge club and through church activities.
“She made the best chicken liver spread in the valley,” Martha said, “and was kind enough to share the recipe with us, too, without ‘forgetting’ about one of the ingredients. It was the eggs. Lots of hard-boiled eggs, that’s what made it so special.”
“Well, I think Ron Carr is just the nicest man,” Lavender broke in. “I told him that I was with Ashley that day, and he just took my hands and told me how brave I was. And said how much his mother would have liked knowing me.”
“You told me you fainted in a heap. I don’t suppose you mentioned that to Mr. Carr?”
And with that rejoinder, Annie made an exit almost as speedy as Dan’s.
CHAPTER 14
FRIDAY, MAY 13
Asqueal came from Annie’s passenger seat. She chuckled, intent on her driving.
“A Paso Fino farm! Look, Annie! On my right! I had no idea anyone was breeding Paso Finos on the Peninsula!”
“I know, I saw them the first time I came up here. They are drop-dead gorgeous, aren’t they? And their gait is supposed to be just made for trail riding.”
“Let’s go buy two!”
“Sure, on the way back. As soon as we buy the trailer I forgot to hitch to my rig.”
It was eight in the morning, and the sky overhead promised another warm, sunny day. Annie and Jessica were sailing along the highway en route to Cape Disconsolate and in very fine moods. Annie was still glowing from the praise Lisa Bromwell had heaped on her yesterday for her astute diagnosis of Hunter’s tendency to colic, not to mention bringing him back to life. Jessica, Annie suspected, was just happy to be away from her clinic for a day—with the knowledge that her postponed meeting with her CPA was now another month out.
As they traveled along the coastal highway, each lost in her own thoughts, Annie recalled the image of the horse she’d seen upon arriving at the Bromwells Thursday afternoon. Hunter simply was a different animal. His head was erect, his eyes were clear, and he was alert and energetic. Best of all, the pile of his manure had quadrupled since the previous day. Lisa was ecstatic and accepted the sand cleanser Annie had brought as if it were a gift from the gods. Her parents came out to join in the accolades. Annie left Chester Bay an hour later feeling absolutely buoyant—and for reasons other than Hunter’s miraculous recovery.
“I wish you could meet all of Ashley’s friends,” Lisa said as Annie stood by her door. “We’d like to thank you for all you did to try to help her.”
Annie had one hand on her truck door handle. Inside, Wolf and Sasha had awakened from their naps and were sitting up, their tails frantically trying to wag in the cramped space.
“Lisa, I’d be happy to meet with anyone who knew Ashley,” she replied honestly. “But please don’t think you or anyone has to thank me.” Because you never made the offer in the first place, and don’t deserve any thanks, her Good Angel reminded her.
She looked at Lisa and smiled. “Besides, if I hear any more nice things about myself it’ll start going to my head. But sure, let’s get together.”
They’d agreed to meet on Saturday night at a local bistro. Annie was amused that she, a bona fide adult, was being sought after by a group of women who were half her age and who had twice her energy. The thought that both Dan and Marcus would thoroughly disapprove of her getting together with Ashley’s friends flitted across her brain and was quickly discarded. Ashley’s friends had asked her, after all. Her Good Angel loudly tsk-tsked. Annie silently told her to shove it.
She was now driving through Shelby, near where Hilda’s equestrian center had once stood. Her gaze automatically was drawn to the road leading up to the property. All that remained were the remnants of the electronic gates leading into the decimated ranch, the two jumpers etched in metal in the ironwork now grotesquely twisted and bent, stark reminders of the havoc that had occurred here a few months earlier. Annie knew that once Travis acquired the property, the gate would be the first thing to go; he wanted no reminder of its previous owner. Still, the stables and arena really had been spectacular, she thought. They’d just belonged to the wrong person.
As if reading her mind, Jessica broke the silence in the cab. “Too bad I didn’t get to see the place when it was still intact. It must have been something.”
Jessica had arrived moments after the fire, after it had consumed every building except the main house and finally been extinguished. She’d spent twelve nonstop hours tending to the horses that had been removed to the lower paddocks before the flames, fueled by three tons of hay bales, had sent the arena and stable roof crashing down. After doing what she could, Jessica had approved of the horses’ transport to the county fairgrounds, but this was just a stopgap measure; no other facility could board them all, and Annie had insisted that the herd stay together. The next day, Annie had discovered Running Track Farms, sixty miles north, which miraculously had sufficient open stalls. She could not have found a more appropriate rehabilitation center. Running Track had two on-site vets and medical facilities that included state-of-the-art therapeutic equipment. Annie was hard-pressed to think of any equine injury or disease that the center couldn’t handle.
The memory of that day had a sobering effect on the women’s moods, and their conversation turned to another morbid topic—the recent spurt in predator sightings and deaths of small farm animals in the county.
“Johan Thompson swears he saw a cougar on his property,” Jessica reported. This was not good news—Annie wintered her sheep on his land and fleetingly wondered if Trotter’s services as ewe protector would now be required year-round.
“What’s the count so far?” Annie asked, not really wanting to know.
“Five lambs, one llama, and two goats,” was the prompt reply.
“Jeez! It’s a little late in the season, isn’t it?”
“Yes, which is why Sergeant McCready is asking anyone who loses an animal to report it immediately. He’s privately told me he suspects at least one predator on the prowl may be human, not animal. He’s asked if I’ll perform a necropsy on the next carcass.”
“Fish and Wildlife wants to hire you to confirm the cause of death?”
“Yup. Four of the lambs were killed in the same week. McCready said the travel patterns are too widespread to account for a single predator. So either unbeknownst to us, a traveling zoo unleashed a lot of tigers all at once, or the killer is someone who has a driver’s license.”
“Well, that is downright scary.”
“Indeed. I hate to see any animal killed, but I’d rather believe it was done by an animal acting on instinct and need rather than a deranged maniac.”
“No kidding. Let’s grab some breakfast. If we’re up against a psycho animal killer, we need to be well fortified.”
* * *
They arrived at Running Track Farms at ten-thirty, and Annie had to admit that the equestrian center pretty much put Hilda’s to shame. It was a well-known layover for racehorses that rested and recuperated here during the off-season months, as well as the permanent home for do
zens of dressage horses, licensed stallions, and their offspring. Clinics on dressage, driving, jumping, and other equine disciplines were commonplace, although the instructors usually were internationally known in their respective fields.
Annie didn’t know how much Marcus was paying for the horses’ care and feeding. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. But she was impressed by his dedication to taking the best possible care of animals that he’d barely met, and never ridden.
“Make sure everything is up to your exacting standards, Annie,” he’d told her on the phone the night before. “Nothing’s too good for my herd. Although it still feels very odd to know I own eighteen horses with pedigrees that far outstrip mine.”
When Annie had reminded him that he also owned five mares currently in foal, boarded in Montana, Marcus had groaned.
“Tell them their benefactor sends his love. Along with his checkbook.”
A sign by the electronic gate politely asked visitors to please use the voice box to introduce themselves to the staff on duty. Annie dutifully complied.
“Annie Carson and Jessica Flynn. We’re here to see Marcus Colbert’s horses. All eighteen, if there’s time.”
“Oh, hello!” a bright, cheery voice responded. The voice had an accent—British, Annie thought. “We’ve been anticipating your arrival. You made good time, didn’t you? One moment and I’ll buzz you in.” Annie looked at Jessica with a touch of skepticism.
“Chipper little thing, isn’t she?”
“Bet you the accent is fake.”
Their assumptions were dashed when they met the owner of the voice.
As they walked toward the front office, a tall, willowy blonde in her midforties strode toward them, her smile wide and welcoming.
“Hi, I’m Patricia Winters, the operations manager. I’m so happy to meet you both. I’ve only been here a month, but I’ve heard so much about you, and your daring exploits in saving the horses.” All this was uttered with a pronounced English accent and attire that matched. Patricia was wearing tan English riding breeches and a navy blue hunting jacket with a crest that looked, Annie thought, terribly important. Her long, blond hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and Annie could see small, rose-colored pearl earrings adorning each petite earlobe.
