A Whisper of Trouble

by Susan Y. Tanner

  “Stack, this is Liz O’Neal. She’s helping me get the Catria home.”

  “You found him, then.” His dark eyes were fixed on Liz, clearly assessing her, as he tossed the question over his shoulder to Will.

  “DNA’s pending but there’s little doubt and I’m not waiting around to get the proof. Another few hours and we may have to shoot our way out. How long before you’re ready for transport?”

  Stack gave the same deep chuckle as when Will chastised him for being in the cockpit of the helicopter. “I’ve been ready since you got stateside. You’ve never failed to get what you’re after. I didn’t figure you would this time, either.” He gestured toward a long, low building. “Go inside and grab one of Anya’s hamburger steaks while I submit flight plans and get approval and departure time.”

  “No,” Liz inserted. “We’ve got to get Owen off the trailer and let him walk and drink. This is going to be a long flight unless you’ve got a rocket ship instead of a jet.”

  “No rocket ship,” Stack admitted, “but damn near.” Still he didn’t argue her point. He turned and pointed in a different direction. “There are stalls at one end of that building and, yes, they’ve been cleaned and disinfected since the last transport. I’ve had one readied for your guy.” He turned from Liz to Will. “And I’ve ensured no other transport with him.”

  Liz had lots of questions but held her tongue. Owen was paramount. Now and for the foreseeable future.

  * * *

  I’m fascinated by our surroundings. There’s nothing here long enough to be a landing strip for a large plane but I do see a helicopter and a small plane in front of two hangars. Small as in not large enough for a horse by any means. I can’t yet tell if this facility is a part of Atlanta’s international airport or simply in close proximity. It’s not very extensive but is efficiently laid out and appears to be of recent construction.

  Will leans against the hood of the truck and watches as Liz walks Owen, as I shall endeavor to call him, back and forth along the grassy edge of the long drive. I recline near Will’s back, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the slight autumn breeze. I note the tensing of his shoulders each time the woman and horse pass near the gated entrance and the subsequent relaxing when they draw closer to the truck once more.

  It would seem the young equine has given Liz his full trust, which is both reassuring and interesting. Reassuring, because she’ll need that trust if the boarding and flight aren’t to be a disaster. Interesting, because it shows either an empathetic understanding with Liz or that unexpected level of intelligence I’ve discovered in few other species. And I’ve had more than my fair share of cases involving horses. They’re all memorable because they aren’t easily managed, if only because of their size!

  After a good half hour of walking, Liz leads the horse toward the building Stack indicated and Will pushes away from the truck to follow as do I with a dignified leap to the paving below.

  Stack proves true to his word. There are a half dozen stalls, all meticulously clean. One appears to be provided with fresh water and, not any old fresh hay, but the holy of holies for horse lovers, alfalfa. From what I’ve gleaned over time, alfalfa is to equines what catnip is to some felines. That minty herb, however, holds only the mildest of interest for me. My mentor, Sherlock, had his issues with addictive substances. In that one situation, if no other, I shall be smarter than he.

  Liz walks Owen into the stall. In a move that some might call odd but I begin to think is her normal behavior, she sniffs first the water, then the alfalfa before unsnapping the lead from the halter. She turns her back and walks from the stall proving their trust is a mutual thing. Will, however, keeps a keen eye on the horse until the stall door is latched behind her.

  Liz stops in front of Will. “How many laws are we breaking taking him out of the States?” Her tone is no more than curious, holding not the least concern.

  “Actually, we’re unbreaking the one that got him here in the first place.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Will waits a moment, as if expecting more, then adds, “Let’s go find that hamburger steak Stack mentioned. I’m not sure what to expect once we take off.”

  * * *

  With the stallion settled, I lead the way back to the appropriate building with a keen ear cocked toward the humans behind me. I half expect to hear a bit of squabbling but there is silence instead. Well, silence save for the soft tread of boots on asphalt.

  We enter what appears to be some kind of mess hall, small but clean and well-ordered with two long tables and comfortable chairs. Far from fancy but efficient. We approach the back with its cafeteria-style design where a female whose cropped black hair frames delicate features shoos us towards the table. She follows with a pad and paper and Will introduces her as the Anya that Stack mentioned. There are no menus but she gives us several options. Will asks politely for the hamburger steak complete with gravy and mashed potatoes for him and one plain for yours truly. Liz chooses pasta with scallops as I believed she might. I saw her eyes light up at the possibility, whether at the thought of the pasta or the scallops I can’t yet tell. I’ll know more about her dining preferences— and therefore, her—when we’ve traveled longer together.

  I follow this Anya person back to her kitchen. Her slight stature does not hinder the dexterity and precision with which she wields multiple pieces of cast iron cookware. Satisfied with the preparations moving forward and the cleanliness of her domain, I make my way back to Will and Liz who are deep in conversation, their backs to the large screen of the television on one wall. As I near them, the tempo of the on-air chit-chat changes and I give an idle glance, only to freeze in place. A sharp photograph of Owen fills the screen.

  I leap to the table beside Will and Liz with a soft yowl so that their attention is pulled to me and then to the screen. Satisfied they are properly focused, I move to a chair and watch the televised drama unfold with them.

  * * *

  “It’s the ranch,” Liz said as the camera swept the long drive before zooming in on Tucker and Jana. They stood at the point where the neat white fencing ended in iron gates swung wide below the ornate ranch sign. Summer Valley Ranch was a beautiful place. The kind of place she’d dreamed of owning…once upon a time. She focused on the block print emblazoned across the bottom of the screen. ‘$125,000 reward.’

  Liz didn’t watch much television although she did keep up with national news, at least to a certain extent, primarily because much of her work was international. Still a part of her doubted this story was big enough to have gone beyond a local station. The Hannas had to have pull with someone somewhere.

  The reporter was an older woman, dressed inappropriately for her surroundings in a scarlet suit, too much makeup, hair an unrealistic shade of black in an upswept style more suited to a night on the town. Probably with a local station, probably worried that her career, like her life, was passing her by. She spoke to the camera first, giving her surroundings and the gist of the story, a valuable stallion missing from a nationally famous therapeutic riding facility. She’d been well briefed and correctly elaborated on a few of the programs available there before turning her attention to the couple in front of her.

  “That’s quite a sum of money for a missing horse. Unless he happens to be a Triple Crown winner.” She smiled faintly at her own joke then resumed her concerned expression. Wrinkleless, of course.

  The amount of the reward surprised Liz. It was far lower than what had been discussed before they left the ranch. There was no risk to the Hannas of anyone claiming the money so no reason to go low. The intent was to create a splash and ensure it caught the right ears.

  Liz had another moment’s surprise when Jana answered instead of Tucker then decided that decision may well have been by design. Tucker might be the employee but he, although friendly and knowledgeable, tended to come across as briskly professional rather than personable. Jana projected warmth.

  “The owners are desperate for his return.” Jana
’s voice was pitched low, slightly tremulous. “For a lot of reasons.”

  “And they’re out of the country, are they not? The owners?”

  “Yes. They’ll be returning soon. Hopefully the stallion will be safely home when they get here.”

  “Do they think the horse was stolen?”

  “No.” Jana appeared to hesitate, taking a deep breath, before she answered. “No, he lunged at me while I led him from his stall.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I’ve got a shredded jacket to show for the hold his teeth had on it, on me. If the material hadn’t given away …”

  Liz glanced from the screen to Will and murmured, “She’s a pretty good actress. Nicely low key but believable.”

  The reporter was a better one, or believed herself to be. “He tried to kill you?” She was all about the drama, sounding stunned and infusing her voice with enough shock for both of them.

  Liz thought this had to be information the reporter was given before the broadcast began. She was too well versed with other details for that not to be the case. The woman was simply playing to her audience.

  “I…I don’t think it was intentional,” Jana said, yet managed to convey by her tone that she wasn’t entirely sure of her own words. “He’s a rescue and we could tell he’d been abused before we got him. He’s easily frightened and reacts to stress as a normal animal does.”

  The reporter shook her head, with an expression clearly disturbed and doubtful. “So, he poses a danger to our listeners.”

  “He could, yes…if he’s frightened by something or someone. We don’t want anyone trying to capture him.” Jana looked away from the reporter and straight into the camera. “If you see him, contact us. The reward will be paid even for that much information if it helps us get him back.”

  The reporter looked momentarily irritated at the break in their exchange but quickly schooled her features as she stepped in swiftly, placing her back to Tucker and Jana as she took her place in front of the cameraman. “So, there you have it. The stallion could be anywhere. He may be still here in the area or he could have traveled counties away by now. Regardless, he could pose a serious threat to anyone who encounters him. The owners and this station urge you to call the number displayed on the screen below if you think you see him. Let’s do what we can to get this stallion safely back to Summer Valley Ranch without harm to any of our listeners. Thanks for tuning in, this is Greta Jordan.”

  The spot ended and the station shifted to a commercial.

  Liz glanced at Will who nodded at her. “I agree, Jana did a good job although maybe a little overdone there at the end. And I expected the reward to be larger after our discussion. Much larger.”

  “It’s all pointless now, isn’t it? We were followed from the ranch.”

  “Not from the ranch,” he corrected. “We were a couple hundred miles away before they got on our tail. They might suspect we had the stallion but, again, they can’t be sure of that or who we are.”

  “So why did they follow us? We must have passed dozens of trailers hauling livestock of some kind.”

  Will frowned. “Maybe lucky. Maybe smarter than I’d like, figuring I’d choose air travel instead of sea. Worse, there may be more than one team scouring the interstates leaving the ranch which means we’re dealing with someone with a multitude of resources at their disposal.”

  Before she could respond, Stack pushed open the door and strode toward them. “Game time, kids.”

  Liz’s heart jumped at the tone of his voice, at the words. They weren’t kids and game time likely wasn’t going to be fun time. Beside her, Will stiffened.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I just got a call from the airport. I’d told the operations agent that my cargo was a racehorse—a rather illustrious one—and that competitors might be trying to gather information to rig betting. Or worse.”

  “And?” Will’s voice was as grim as his expression.

  “Sure enough, a call came in from Sheik somebody to confirm his most prized possession would be safely in flight to Italy within the next few hours. He insisted his beautiful bay stallion not be confined in unfamiliar surroundings one minute longer than was absolutely necessary.”

  Liz would have likened the sound coming from Will’s throat to the growl of a wolf before he attacked.

  “No worries, my friend. The agent was so sorry to inform the sheik that no flight information had been received or expected and perhaps he should try a different port of exit such as Lexington or Florida. Both also have equine transporters.”

  Will didn’t appear reassured. “Even so…”

  “Yeah, even so,” Stack agreed. “Which means we’re getting you out of here now. Our main gate is locked with armed guards. We’re officially closed for some obscure holiday for some obscure religion. Meanwhile we’ll exit through the back.” For the first time he looked at Liz. “How long will it take you to load the stallion?”

  “If no one gets in my way? Only minutes.”

  Stack gave her a smile which almost reached his eyes. “No one will. My promise.”

  Chapter Five

  Owen seems to sense the tension emanating from Liz. Her voice is as low and soothing as ever, her motions quiet and reassuring. The underlying vibes, however, are anything but. And Will is worse. He leans against one of the metal support structures centering the barn and scowls as the stallion plays dodge ball with Liz’s efforts to slip the halter over his nose.

  I’m not entirely at ease, myself. It seems we’re operating on too little information and banking too heavily upon persons with whom I have no previous affiliation. I must rely on Will’s knowledge of them for the moment and I’ll admit he’s given me no cause for disappointment. Yet.

  I’m relieved for all of us when the stallion at last allows Liz to fasten the halter in place and loads onto the trailer with relative ease. Judging by the look on Will’s face, we were moments away from an unpleasant situation.

  * * *

  The trip from Stack’s facility to the airport took less time than Liz expected. She used those few minutes to gather herself, to focus on easing the clenching of her jaw. As long as she felt disturbed, Owen would become even more so. But she dreaded what she knew lay ahead of her. The horse trailer was at least a familiar conveyance to the animal. She could only imagine his reaction to being asked to enter an aircraft.

  Owen wanted to trust her. Liz knew that but, even now, she was an unknown to him. Her heart hurt at all he’d been put through and for a purpose she couldn’t begin to fathom although she had no doubt that human greed was at the root of it all. It always was.

  Some of her stress lessened when the vehicle they followed led to an area that was some distance away from the bustle surrounding the air terminals but her heart sank at the sight of the jet and the long ramp leading up into the cavernous belly of the plane. She’d hoped for something fully enclosed. Even with the strong panels on both sides of the ramp, getting Owen aboard was going to be tricky. It might look safe to her but she doubted it would look or feel secure to him.

  Stack and three others climbed out of the truck in front of them. A woman smartly dressed in a suit of charcoal gray walked with Stack to meet Will and Liz. One of the men, dressed in a suit similar to the woman’s, strode toward the jet. The other, more casual in jeans and t-shirt, circled around to the driver’s side of the pickup.

  Taking a deep breath, Liz opened the door and exited the truck in the same moment that Will did. She felt a faint surprise when Stack and the woman were close enough for her to recognize their cook from the dining hall.

  Stack grinned at Liz. “I should have explained that Anya is my sister. She does what she wants to do and, because she does it all extremely well, I let her. She’s decided it’s time for her to see Italy so she’ll be traveling with you.”

  Anya smiled and Liz thought two people couldn’t look less alike. Anya might or might not be Stack’s sister. In either case, it was their business and none of hers.


  Stack shifted his gaze from Liz to Will. “She’ll actually be your copilot. And she, also, happens to be deadly accurate with a rifle, a skill I hope won’t prove necessary.”

  “Things could get dicey,” Will cautioned.

  “Which is why your flight will take you to a private airport in Geneva while the other side spreads themselves thin in Rome watching for you there. You’ll be met in Switzerland by ground transportation to get you into Italy.”

  “Give me your bags,” Anya said. “I’ll get them aboard while you bring the stallion.”

  * * *

  Will watched as Liz made short work of unloading the stallion, who proved unexpectedly cooperative, backing down the ramp without balking before following her across the paved surface. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the airplane before him, then allowed Liz to coax him forward.

  He stopped again at the base of the ramp and this time coaxing failed. He threw his head high and bounced on his front feet once, then twice, shaking his head. Will stepped forward but Liz warned him back with a look. Will didn’t bother to tell her that the animal had one more chance to cooperate. Will still carried the tranquilizer Tucker had provided and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. The Catria couldn’t be allowed to put himself or the woman at risk.

  For a moment, Liz just stood and talked quietly to the stallion. Will couldn’t hear either the words or her tone for the wind which blew steadily down the length of the runway. When the stallion took a single step forward, Will unclenched his jaw. Slowly the Catria followed Liz step by hesitant step up the ramp.

  “For a moment, I feared we were going to have a problem,” Stack said beside him.