“They’re wrong.”
“Then what are you, because it’s a hell of a lot more than a horse trainer?” That was how she billed herself.
“I’ve never cared to put a label to that—I’d guess I’m an empath for horses.”
“And for people?”
“Not so much.”
He found that amusing but was careful not to smile. “What were you saying to him out there?”
Her shoulders lifted. “Any and everything and nothing.”
“And the language?” He knew a smattering of words and phrases in several languages but recognized nothing he’d heard her say to the horse.
She hesitated. “Gaelic. Irish Gaelic.”
His gaze swept her features. He could see it, could see the Irish look to her. She appealed to him. In a different time and place, he might ask to buy her dinner. Now was not that time and this was not that place. “I’ll put my things in the truck,” he said instead, “and we’ll let Tucker know you were successful.”
He’d find out from Tucker where a helicopter could land in safety the next morning to collect the hair strands. As cost was no barrier, he’d have the results within twenty-four hours. Because his gut told him this was the horse and his gut rarely failed him, he would also begin making travel arrangements for himself and the animal.
They were quiet as they walked past the barns to the vet clinic. Will supposed Liz’s thoughts remained with the horse. His had moved ahead to the difficulties of transporting the young stallion in safety. Tucker had been polite but firm in turning down Will’s offer of a rather handsome sum to travel with the animal and sedate as needed. Will couldn’t blame him. Tucker had the ideal position for a veterinarian right here at Summer Valley Ranch, not to mention the fact that the owners, Dirks and Avery Hanna, were on an extended vacation, leaving Tucker in charge of the ranch. A long-delayed honeymoon, Tucker had called it, albeit a working one as they visited various therapeutic riding centers in their wanderings abroad.
Will wasn’t sure what the black cat was thinking about.
Tucker waited for them in front of the clinic, then invited them to his apartment above. He offered them iced tea or something stronger. Liz wanted water but Will accepted a beer.
* * *
“I’ve sent Jana, my fiancée, to ask Natalie—Ms. Denham—to join us. She’s the girl who brought the stallion here,” Tucker said as they took a seat. “I haven’t seen her today but she mentioned having errands to run so I didn’t expect to.”
“She’s staying here.” Will remembered Tucker saying as much when he’d greeted Will upon his arrival.
“Yes, in one of the guesthouses, and I’d like to have her to stay on. She’s a hard worker and she’s either had training around horses or she’s intuitive about a lot of things.”
Will lifted a brow. “I take it you haven’t asked her background?”
“No. She’s very…private. You can tell when a person doesn’t want to share information about themselves. I’ve given her opportunities but she hasn’t taken any and I don’t have a real reason to probe into her personal business.”
Perhaps Tucker didn’t, but Will wondered if he might. None of the reports he’d seen mentioned anyone missing from the stud farm at the same time as the Catria but things weren’t adding up for Will. He’d decide after talking with Ms. Denham. He’d learned to be more than fair at reading people, particularly people who were lying to him. And Tucker already seemed to suspect the girl’s story of just happening upon the horse. Maybe Will needed to be a little suspicious as well. Maybe more than a little.
Will glanced at Liz as Tucker took a business call. He heard the vet assuring the caller a bungalow was ready for a noon arrival the following day, no, it wouldn’t be inconvenient if they were delayed for some reason. But, he concluded, no animal at Summer Valley Ranch was for sale. Or ever would be.
Liz seemed lost in her own thoughts but Will thought her lips curved at Tucker’s firm statement.
Tucker turned at the sound of footsteps on the landing. Will didn’t bother telling him that it was one set and not two. If it was his fiancée returning, she was in a rush and she came alone, without the girl who had brought the Catria to the ranch.
When the door opened, Will’s first thought was that the young woman may have been very attractive, but at the moment her face was ashen and her lips pressed together. Will recognized the look of shock that glittered in her hazel eyes. She had pulled her length of blonde hair to one side and twisted it tightly in one hand.
“She’s dead.” Jana sounded bewildered and sick. “Natalie…her wrists.”
Chapter Two
I could almost have predicted such an occurrence, I muse as I follow in the footsteps of the two men, one lanky, one built to brawl as I call it. The girl, Natalie, was flighty, but suicidal? I wouldn’t go that far. Will was wise to ask Liz and Jana to remain in the apartment while he and Tucker of the red hair and jade eyes return to the scene of the crime. And I do believe we will discover it is a crime.
While she and Liz wait, Jana will call the sheriff who will call the coroner and we shall see from there if I’m right. If that proves the case, next to arrive will be the crime scene investigators with which I have much experience. Some are better than others but I won’t disparage the profession for the failings of a few.
The door to the guesthouse stands ajar. Tsk-tsk. But Tucker’s fiancée can’t have had much experience with forensics and police procedure—securing the scene and all that—so I shan’t judge too harshly.
I don’t suppose I’ll ever get used to the odor of death. Poor Tucker is not dealing well with any aspect of the scene but Will is bearing up stoically as I suspected he might. I’m not sure of his profession but he’s no stranger to violence or death.
I hope he understands the need to act quickly to gather what information he needs. Once the locals are on the scene, he will be evicted from the crime site unless he has credentials that I doubt he has. Ah, and there! Good job. Will has his phone out and is capturing the scene panoramically, with video and then with a multitude of stills. He stoops for closeups, drawing Tucker’s gaze with the movement. Our vet, doubtless unflappable in the face of equine surgery, whitens visibly. Poor chap. It must be beastly to see someone you know lying amidst their own congealing blood. Will wisely asks him to go to the entrance of the ranch and await the officials who are surely on their way by now and guide them to the guesthouse.
Careful to avoid stepping in blood, I join Will in his closer perusal and something catches my attention. I study to be sure, but no, I’m not mistaken. In deference to the dead, I place my paw with extreme delicacy near what first appeared to be a shadow upon one side of the girl’s hand. Upon closer study, I realize it to be a bruise, a bruise the size and shape of a man’s thumb. It is faint and easy to miss at first glance but visible once noticed.
I hiss and Will heeds me. He snaps several pictures of the girl’s hands and then her wrists. The incisions upon both wrists are not overly large but sufficiently deep and suspiciously precise. The amount of blood is almost unfathomable or would be if I were less familiar with violent death.
When he touches the side of her jaw, I see what he has seen. Another bruise, even more faint but still visible. It’s possible the bruising occurred when she lost consciousness as it looks as if she chose to stand in the doorway connecting bedroom to bath. Possible, but I do not think it likely. Nor, apparently, does Will.
Her position is such that she could have slid to a slump against the doorjamb when she lost strength and consciousness from loss of blood. But that same position could have been attained as her assailant lowered her from the rear, keeping himself away from the flow of blood.
In the distance, I hear sirens. I surmise Will hears them as well. He makes another sweep with the camera on his phone, this time of the room behind and around the body. As the wailing of the sirens grows loud and close, he shifts position so that he’s standing at the door as if guarding what lie
s beyond.
The first officer to step out of the patrol car greets him and they shake hands. “Ms. Vaughn said it was suicide.”
Will lifts his shoulders. “Not my area of expertise. I didn’t want the ladies out here and it seemed wrong to leave the girl alone after she was found. I’ll let you gentlemen take it from here if you don’t mind.”
I recognize that Will is being somewhat disingenuous but the officer seems to appreciate his words and, just like that, we are dismissed. But, why, I wonder does Will not share our suspicions that the wounds were not self-inflicted?
* * *
Liz could tell that Jana was doing her best to be hospitable but her tension was palpable. Her voice had remained steady as she answered the dispatcher’s questions with what little information she had—her name and address, the name of the deceased and that the cause appeared to be suicide—but the lines had deepened around her mouth moment by moment.
Not very long after they’d heard sirens heralding the arrival of an ambulance and law enforcement, Will returned to the apartment. Jana opened it quickly to let him in. “Tucker?”
“He’s still with the officers answering questions. Since I never met the girl, there seemed little reason for me to muddy the waters. The cat opted to come with me.”
“Trouble.”
Will frowned. “I don’t think they’ll give your fiancé much hassle over the girl’s death but I could walk back if you think that best.”
“No. The cat,” Jana clarified. “His name is Trouble. He’s … unique.”
Will looked briefly, speculatively at the cat, but made no comment. Liz found something off about Will’s exchange with Jana. It was nothing he said but his expression was guarded and his eyes were veiled. He was hiding something.
After politely asking permission, Will opened his laptop on the kitchen table. “I’d like to capture any and every thing you can recall about Natalie. Start with your first impressions and anything you recall of her after that.”
Jana nodded, still looking a bit shell-shocked. As the young woman talked, Liz began to build a picture in her mind of the girl she’d never met. Jana described her as somewhere in her twenties with dark brown hair cropped into a pixie cut and dark brown eyes to match. No, she didn’t have any kind of accent that Jana could tell and, no, Jana didn’t know anything of her family or even if she had any.
Natalie had arrived about a month ago with her story of traveling through a small town whose name she didn’t recall and stopping at a local kill pen where she’d purchased the horse for a handful of dollars. She seemed comfortable with the horse which seemed to trust her, and only her, although Tucker had been trying to gain his confidence since the moment the animal had been unloaded in front of their barn.
Jana fell silent and watched Will study his computer. Liz jumped when Jana spoke again.
“You think her death wasn’t suicide.” It wasn’t a question.
Before commenting on the statement, Will turned his computer to face Jana and Liz. The photograph displayed on the screen was of a young woman with long, pale red hair and even paler skin. She was laughing and looking at a horse she held on a loose lead. A horse the size and color of the one Liz had spent her afternoon trying to gain his trust.
“This is Nadine Dane. She is or was an American veterinary student interning in Italy at a small stud farm in central Italy near Mount Catria. The horse is a pureblood Catria, a breed whose numbers are dwindling fast and has been placed, along with several others, on a watch list of sorts by the Italian Breeders Association. The horse disappeared from the farm about four weeks ago and I’ve little doubt now that the girl was with him and that her death—most likely between midnight and daylight—wasn’t suicide. Just as I believe the horse she brought to you is the missing Catria, smuggled from Italy.”
“The hair is different,” Jana murmured, “but those eyes and the chin…”
Liz stirred, feeling suddenly chilled. “How did you know she and the horse were here?” she asked abruptly. And had he anything to do with the girl’s death?
“I didn’t know about Ms. Dane until tonight. I’ve got someone checking now, touching base with the farm, tracking any record of travel if she’s not there. They’ll confirm or disprove my suspicions on her identity. As for the horse, my team picked up the trail of the horse after it surfaced in Florida. Some kind of respiratory illness forced the use of a local veterinarian for a scope and medicine. The veterinarian posted on an academic teaching site about the unusual characteristics of the infection plus the weakened lung capacity of the animal when it was brought to him. When I interviewed him, he was to the point in telling me he didn’t expect the horse to live since the supposed owner, a youngish woman as he described her, refused to leave him for the length of the recommended treatment. There was no mention of anyone else with her. The horse was gone and I lost the trail.”
“Until Tucker posted about him,” Jana murmured.
“Yes. A different forum but a similar post with photos of the same horse.” Will answered Jana but Liz realized he watched her. Did he sense her suspicion of him?
“Owen—the horse—and Natalie had been with us a couple of weeks by then,” Jana said slowly. “He was showing improvement but the treatment was intense. And there were complications. A bad reaction to the first medication sent us scrambling to come up with a safe alternative. The pictures from the endoscope and commentary you saw were a ‘before and after’ of Tucker’s alternative treatment. There are a host of equine illness and injury platforms. Tucker’s a frequent contributor to several because we see so much damage with our rescue program.” Liz could hear a touch of pride in Jana’s voice.
“And we’ve been watching all of those sites along with training and show platforms.”
Jana looked at Will with new interest. “That’s a lot of watching. Just how large is your team?”
“Large enough.”
Liz couldn’t be silent any longer. “Just who are you? You don’t have any kind of an accent and I don’t believe you’re Italian so why were you looking for this horse?”
Will gave her a smile that was decidedly lacking in humor. So, okay, she was being blunt but the welfare of the stallion was at stake.
“I’m a private investigator. I work internationally and the Italian government hired me to find four missing stallions they believe to have been taken out of the country and identify the smugglers.”
Liz’s mind made some quick connections. “If Ms. Dane was murdered because of the horse, why wasn’t he taken by whoever killed her?”
* * *
That’s an answer easily deduced, at least to my mind. But I’ve trained my analytical side to think in terms of crime in general and murder in particular. Will can explain the intricacies of evading detection for crimes committed. My mind has made the leap to more immediate concerns. Such as the safety of, not only the ladies present at this table, but the beautiful equines that live here.
If Dirks Hanna, aka Mr. Military, were not out of town, my concerns would be less...ah…concerning but he’s thousands of miles and many hours away.
As things stand, there’s no doubt that I must plan for an all-night patrol. Not my first at Summer Valley Ranch.
* * *
The door opened and Will held his answer as Tucker came in without speaking. Jana scooted to the side of the sofa where she was sitting. Still pale, Tucker sat and took hold of the hand she held out to him. Will felt bad for him but he didn’t have time to commiserate. Nor did he think it would help.
He turned his thoughts back to Liz O’Neal’s question. He could feel her dislike of him. He wasn’t sure why she disliked him but he wasn’t bothered by the fact—unless it interfered with his plans down the road. He had a feeling he was going to need her again.
“Whoever killed Ms. Dane went to considerable effort to ensure it looked like a suicide. If the Catria went missing at the same time, there would be questions which would lead to more questions.”
Tucker stiffened at his words. Clearly, he’d accepted the appearance of suicide. Will couldn’t fault him on that. The scene had been set, if not flawlessly, at least with pretty good attention to detail.
Jana tensed. “So, they’ll be back.”
“Without a doubt, at which time you or Tucker would doubtless find the corral he’s in damaged and made to look as if he’d broken through on his own. Which is why I’d rather move him sooner rather than later.”
“Even before you have the DNA results?” Tucker asked.
Will nodded. He had no doubt the DNA tests would prove his case, but—even if he weren’t that confident—the stallion couldn’t stay here. Someone besides himself believed the animal to be the missing Catria and wanted him enough to commit murder to gain possession.
“Why are you so certain Nadine Dane didn’t take her own life?” Liz pinned him with a piercing gaze.
“There were bruises, faint but visible, as if she’d been held firmly when her veins were cut.”
Jana took a deep breath at his words. “That sounds horrible. To be held while—”
He hadn’t wanted to be that graphic but Liz wasn’t going to accept anything less than hard truth. Tucker’s fiancée seemed strong. Liz O’Neal was stronger.
“I don’t think she was conscious. The bruises would have been deeper, if she’d had to be forcibly restrained.”
“Drugged?” Tucker asked.
“That would be my guess.”
“Drugs can be detected. And fingerprints,” Liz interjected.
Will gave her a nod of quick respect. “If anyone checks, it will appear to be a street drug. And I have a feeling the only prints on the knife lying beside Ms. Dane will belong to her. But it wasn’t the murder weapon.” The bruise upon her hand would be the result of the assassin ensuring her prints were visible on the knife tossed beside her body. “Nor do I think her murderer left his or her own prints.” Rubber gloves or a thorough wipe of a few surfaces, like the door knob, would have taken care of that.
A Whisper of Trouble Page 2