We’re getting off track. “Regardless, it won’t be in this story because I’m going to shelve it.”
Edith ignores my declaration.
“I’m about ready to send you some edits on the last few chapters. I normally wouldn’t need them back for a month or so, but I think you should take a look. Reading what you’ve already written always seems to inspire you to finish more quickly.”
“Edith.” My tone is the one my mother would use when forbidding me to do something my father would hate, but I don’t care at this point. “Listen to what I’m saying. I. Am. Not. Going. To. Finish. This. Book.” I emphasize each word like a separate sentence to get my point across.
“I want you to listen to what I’m saying. You signed a contract. You have a legal imperative to finish it. I’m sorry if you’ve hurt someone’s feelings over this, but it’s too late in the game to switch horses. The cover has been approved. We’ve already signed contracts for ebook formatting and an audio version. Marketing materials have been posted online, and thousands of bookstores have already put deposits on big pre-orders.”
“What if I die or become incapacitated? There has to be a clause for that.”
“There is, but you are not dead or incapacitated. And if you try to fake either, I’m obligated to report our conversation today.”
Her stern lecture takes me aback. Edith has never been this hard-nosed with me. I feel like a child scolded for trying to get out of schoolwork. Silence hangs in the air.
“Look,” Edith says, using her coaxing voice that I normally hear when she’s trying to boost my confidence because I don’t think I can write a sex scene or one that includes violence. “You can do this, Lauren. Finish the book, then go to your friend with your finished draft and let her see that it has only a grain of her experience. Then tell her about our conversation today. She’ll realize you had no choice.”
“Okay.” My voice is small because I know my chance to explain has passed. I’m so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I intentionally dug up an unpleasant time in her life and will be exposing her again to gossip and rumor.
Chapter Eighteen
LaSalle stares silently at me after I finished recounting the whole mess with Marsh, and then she rises and goes to the bar, where she pours us two shots of whiskey from a distillery in the North Carolina mountains. She brings both shots and the bottle labeled Defiant and sets them on the small table between our Adirondack chairs.
“So you’re in love with this woman? Because if you aren’t, she isn’t worth risking your career over, no matter how guilty you feel.” She lifts her shot and waits for me to do the same. We clink our glasses together, our eyes connecting in mutual understanding that dates back to our college days. Then we down our whiskeys.
“Wow. That’s smooth. I’m going to have to buy a case of that and take it home with me.” The slow burn warms my throat, but it has no bite like many whiskeys or tequila. I’m feeling more relaxed already. LaSalle refills our glasses.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she says.
I pick up my glass and don’t wait for LaSalle this time. I down a second shot. “I’m afraid I am.” I can’t look at her. What’s more pathetic than unrequited love?
LaSalle downs her second shot, then refills our glasses again. “Then fight for her. You solve mysteries. Find out who killed that horse and clear her name.”
“I make up mysteries for books. When I write, I already know who did it and lay down clues to finally point to them. It’s an entirely different thing.”
“Go to the place where it all happened. You’ll get some idea or find someone who knows something. Isn’t that what cops do when they’re investigating?”
I smile at her, my first glimpse of hope in days. “How would you know what cops do?”
She shrugs. “I might have dated a detective once.”
I’m feeling a little giddy after only two shots, so I laugh. Not a polite laugh, but a full-out belly laugh that’s part hysteria because her remark really isn’t that funny. I waggle my finger at her. “You’ve been holding back. This is a girlfriend I haven’t heard about.”
LaSalle’s eyes go wide, but she’s looking at something over my shoulder rather than at me. “Shit. Here comes Dorine. Quick, down your last shot, because she’s going to take our bottle from us.”
I don’t stop to think and do as LaSalle suggests.
“Uh-huh. I see what’s going on.” Dorine scoops up our bottle and shot glasses. “You bonehead. You know our Lauren is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, and I didn’t slave over her favorite meal just to have you two sit out here until you pass out.”
“Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and those little lady peas?” Nobody fries chicken like Dorine.
“Just for you, baby doll.” Dorine pinches my cheek affectionately.
“Hey, when I ask you to fry chicken, you always say it’s too much trouble to clean up later.” LaSalle pokes her lips out in a pout.
Dorine scowls at her. “You are so spoiled already, I wouldn’t be able to live with you if I catered to your every whim.” She puts the whiskey bottle back in the cabinet and washes out the shot glasses in the small sink of the poolside bar. “Now drag your lazy butts inside. Dinner is ready.”
The dining room is almost part of the kitchen in the open layout of the remodeled mansion. When LaSalle hired Dorine away from her parents, she made it clear that Dorine is family, along with me. So Dorine sits and eats with us, ignoring social protocol against dining with the hired help. While we eat, LaSalle gives Dorine a condensed version of my predicament.
Dorine looks across the table at me. “You know you should have asked before you started prying into her past.”
I nod, my mouth full of food. I swallow and answer. “I had to do some investigating first to know if it was worth a book.”
Dorine gives me a don’t-lie-to-me look. I feel ten years old again, trying to make up a good story for something LaSalle and I had done.
I stare down at my plate. “Okay. Yeah. I should have talked to her first.” I raise my eyes to hers and square my shoulders. “If I’d told her, she would have stopped me before I got started.”
“And what does that tell you?”
I lower my head again, shame heating my cheeks. “That I shouldn’t have stirred up things that aren’t my business when I know she wouldn’t want me to.”
Dorine reaches across the table and pats my hand. “At least you understand and own up to your mistakes, not like the moose that lives here.”
“Hey, I pay your salary. Don’t be maligning me to my friends.”
“Pooh. You know I don’t need your money. I’m perfectly comfortable financially, but when your mother, my best friend, moved back to New Orleans, I promised her I’d look after you.”
LaSalle blushes pink. “I know, Dori. And, honestly, I’d be lost and lonely without you.” The two stare at each other with affection.
Dorine grabs LaSalle’s hand and smiles at the use of LaSalle’s childhood name for her.
“I know, baby. As much as I threaten it, I’m never going to leave you if I can help it.”
“Stop it, you guys. I’m PMSing, and you’re going to make me cry.” The tears gathering in my eyes aren’t because of their conversation. Their affection for each other, though maternal rather than sexual, makes me jealous. For the first time in my life, I feel destined to grow old all alone.
* * *
“I thought you were going down to Southern Pines to investigate your mystery.”
I’d intended to stay longer with her and Dorine, but after Dorine dragged that confession out of me, I felt a strong imperative to go home and apologize to Marsh. She can block my calls, but she can’t stop me from showing up unannounced. I’ll make her listen. So as soon as my book signing is over, I hit the road.
“I might be back. It
depends on how my apology to Marsh goes. Edith says it’s too late to back out of this contract, but by God, I can make the rest up if she insists and forget about using the details of Marsh’s incident.”
“Okay, pal. I’m here if you need me. Hell, if you need to get away, just come hang out for a month or however long you want. Dorine would love another person to boss around.”
“Thanks, Sal. If I do need to run and hide, it’s nice to know your luxurious cave is always open to me. You’re better than a sister, you know? Not that anything’s wrong with mine, but she’s not really someone I can talk to about this sort of thing.”
I hear what sounds like a little sniff from LaSalle. “Yeah, well. You’re the sister I never had, Laurie. Dorine and I’ll always be in your corner.”
“That’s good to know, pal.” I need to get off this call before I start sniffling, too. “I’ll give you a buzz and let you know how it goes after I see Marsh. And I’ll be back in a couple of days, anyway, for the signings at your other two stores.”
“I’m going to hold you to it, so don’t let me down and cancel on me.”
“I’ll never let you down if I can help it.” It’s the truth because I don’t have very many people in my life who I’ve let get close.
* * *
When I reach Langston Farms, it’s already dark and past feeding time, so I figure Marsh will be at her house, rather than the barn. I’m surprised to see a light on in the barn office. Can it be Marsh? It has to be, because I see Alex getting into his truck to head up to his and Harrison’s house. I whip into the space next to him and hop out of my car. I stretch. My muscles are still stiff after the nonstop, five-hour drive. I wave at Alex to at least acknowledge him as I round his truck to go into the barn. He trots after me.
“Lauren, wait.” He catches up and grabs my arm. “Wait, damn it.”
“I know she’s blocked my phone number, but I have to talk to her, Alex. That’s her in the office, isn’t it?”
“Don’t go in there, Lauren. She’s been really upset. You need to give her more time before you talk to her.”
“I think I know what she’s upset about. I have to explain and apologize.” I brush past him and take two steps before he catches my arm again. “Let me go, Alex. I love Marsh, and I’m not leaving until I talk to her.” I jerk my arm from his grasp.
“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Just listen to me, okay?”
I stop. “You’ve got one minute.”
Alex wrings his hands in a very unmasculine way. “Marsh has been different since you came along. Different in a good way. She hasn’t let anyone close to her—well, except for me, Harrison, and Jules—since, um, since the problem in North Carolina. Harrison and I’ve been scared to even say we like you, or acknowledge that anything’s going on between you two, for fear she’ll back off and close up again. Then you go and betray her. She’s hurting, and Marsh strikes out when she’s hurt. You do not want to go into that office.”
“I don’t care what cruel things she says to me. I deserve them, and I’ll handle it.” I stride purposefully to the door and begin to open it when Alex yells after me.
“She’s not alone, Lauren.”
I rap quickly on the door and open it as Alex’s warning settles in my brain. Then I stand frozen in the doorway.
Marsh’s jeans are sagged around her knees, her bare butt is framed in the black straps of a dildo harness, and she’s pumping into a woman whose face is turned away from me. Even so, I’d recognize that voice and that hair anywhere. It sure isn’t her clothes that tips me off to her identity because she isn’t wearing any. Tallie?
“Oh, God, Marsh. I’m going to come.” Tallie moans out her next words. “Harder, baby. You know what I like.”
Marsh looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes hard and distant, but she never breaks rhythm as she thrusts harder and delivers several loud smacks to Tallie’s bottom while she stares at me. Tallie howls and turns her head toward me, capturing my gaze.
“Yes, I’m coming. So good. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” Tallie’s voice goes from a deep moan to a shrill scream. “Oh, God. Yes, yes, yes!”
I step back and slam the door closed. My guilt morphs into anger. Fool. What a fool I’ve been. I’m too tired to drive back to Raleigh, so I check in to a hotel on the off chance Marsh comes looking for me later. No way. She’s already moved on. But I’m not taking the risk.
I’ll swing by my house tomorrow to get some fresh clothes and go right back to North Carolina. I don’t deserve this. I haven’t accessed anything that isn’t public record so far—things any member of the public could request to see.
I grab the bottle of Defiant I picked up on my way out of North Carolina, plus a glass, and sit on the small balcony of my hotel suite. I swig a mouthful straight from the bottle before pouring a glassful over ice.
God damn Marsh Langston. I was stupid to trust her. A plan begins to form in my head. I’m going to get to the bottom of this and clear Marsh if she’s innocent. If she’s not, well, then I’ve brought a horse killer to justice.
Chapter Nineteen
My first stop is the Cherokee Falls Equestrian Center after I’ve gone by my house to refresh my suitcase and eat lunch. Actually, I made a huge sandwich because I haven’t eaten since an early lunch yesterday. But I still can’t stomach food, so after a few bites, I wrap it up to take with me. Cherokee Falls is forty-five minutes northwest in Virginia’s Blue Ridge foothills, and my ultimate destination—Raleigh—is five hours southeast of my home. But I’m hoping to interview Kate Parker. She has to know things that aren’t in public records.
I’m awestruck again at the expanse of this place—five barns with paddocks extending from each, two outdoor rings, and the arena’s indoor ring. Marsh told me on the day of the show that a sixth building houses an indoor pool and gymnasium. At the center of all that is a two-story, sprawling farmhouse with a wide porch that wraps around three sides of the bottom story.
The center is teeming with people and horses. When I knock on the door, the woman who answers seems familiar. Her dark hair is pulled back in a French braid, and her blue eyes are at least two shades lighter than Marsh’s. Gah. Stop thinking about Marsh’s blue eyes.
“Yes?” the woman asks when I don’t say anything.
It dawns on me. “You’re Jessica Black.” I’d seen photos of her with the articles I read about the accident that ended her riding career.
She chuckles. “It’s Jessica Parker-Reese, but you can call me Jess. Please come inside.”
I hesitate, my writer brain flashing to all those scenes where the victim stupidly lets the killer in her house because he says his car broke down and needs to use her phone. “Do you always let strangers in your house without knowing who they are?”
Jessica smiles over her shoulder. “Oh, I know who you are. Skyler’s read every book you’ve written, and your picture is on all the back covers. And Jules has gone on and on about the famous author taking lessons at Langston Farms. Skyler and I both wanted to meet you last weekend at the show, but everything was just too hectic.”
“Is Skyler here?” I shake my head to reset my thoughts. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to Kate.” I came here for a reason, and I don’t need to drag this out. “I’ve been looking into the incident that happened in Southern Pines, the one that made Marsh quit riding professionally. I was hoping she might be able to answer some of my questions.”
Jessica leads me into a home office and sits behind the desk. “Kate and my mom are in Greece, where they have a villa. We expect them back in about three weeks because they’re planning to build another house on the back part of this property.”
“It was Kate’s horse that was killed, right?”
“Yes. Jakobi was Kate’s horse, but nobody here thought for a minute that Marsh was to blame. I was too pregnant at the time to go to that show, so yo
u really should talk to Sky. I’m sure she can fill in a few blanks for you.” She stands again and gestures for me to follow. “She’s at the gym, overseeing homework time for the kids in her program. I can’t leave the house because our little one is napping, but I’ll point out the building.”
* * *
I find Skyler sitting at an old-fashioned, oak teacher’s desk, tapping away on a laptop with a dozen kids sitting in student desks, their heads bent to their schoolwork.
Skyler looks up when I hesitate in the doorway and smiles.
I speak quietly so I won’t disturb the kids. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Jessica said I’d find you here.”
Skyler stands, and I realize how very tall she really is—at least six feet or more. She holds out her hand. “Ms. Everhart. It’s so great to finally meet you. I looked for you after our little show Saturday, but Marsh whisked you away so fast, all I saw were the taillights of her truck.” She cocks her head, her eyes filled with amusement.
“Yes, well.” I debate how much to say. Skyler’s students appear to be hard at work, but I feel like a dozen pairs of ears are also listening. “Do you have somewhere we can talk?”
Skyler looks over her group, then at her Apple watch. “We’re almost done here. One minute and I’m all yours.” She gestures to one of the students. “Jamie, bring your stuff up here, please.”
The young blonde who I’d seen riding for the center at Saturday’s show gathers her books and backpack and comes to the teacher’s desk. She’s clearly a teen but almost as tall as Skyler.
“Can you check everybody’s homework and text their trainers that they’re clear?” She hands Jamie her phone.
“Sure, Sky.”
Skyler slides her laptop into a messenger bag and joins me at the door. “Let’s go to the office.”
* * *
“So, does Marsh know you’re poking around in this?” Skyler asks after I explain the information I’m trying to track down.
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