The farm manager walked toward Liz. “I did not realize anyone would be accompanying Mr. Chandler with the horse. Buon giorno.” She held out her hand and Liz shook it.
“Liz O’Neal.” Liz saw little reason to explain either her profession or her role in Milo’s return, particularly as the woman had not asked.
Paula Massine stepped closer to the stallion who thrust his nose at her. She chuckled and caressed him under the long line of his jaw but made no attempt to take the lead from Liz’s hand. The exchange between horse and woman reassured Liz that the two were old acquaintances and the connection was a strong one. A good one.
Finished with his call, Will signaled to Anya and the pilot who eased their stance, although they didn’t hang the rifles back over their shoulders. Will offered his hand to Ms. Massine who shook it with a smile. As they chatted, Liz watched Anya retrieve her cell phone from her pocket without releasing her grip on her firearm.
When Ms. Massine turned back to Liz and the stallion, Liz offered her the lead rope and said, “He’s a good boy.” She felt as if she were giving up a bit of herself with the stallion.
The other woman smiled. “He is indeed. I can’t tell you how grateful we’ll be to have him home.”
Still feeling a bit protective, Liz watched as Owen—or rather Milo she reminded herself—followed Paula Massine calmly up the ramp. Some of the tension eased in her shoulders. The young stallion was on the last leg of his journey home and safe in the hands of a familiar friend.
* * *
Anya ended her call as the truck and trailer pulled away. “Stack wants us to take the jet on to Rome,” she said cheerfully. “We’re to be very visibly transporting nothing and no one upon arrival. Sadly, the press will be anonymously tipped that the jet is returning with the missing Catria. They’ll be there with cameras and mics to document…nothing. All I need to know is your choice of ground transportation from here. Stack will arrange.” She grinned as she added, “And bill you nicely for it, of course.”
Will obliged her good humor with a faint grin and nodded. “Give us a moment, Anya.”
“Sure, the plane is being refueled now. We’ll wait there for you?”
He nodded and turned to Liz. “I expect you’ll bill me nicely as well.
“You can count on it although it’s almost been enough of an adventure for me to pay you.”
She didn’t quite smile but Will caught a glint of real humor in her eyes. For a moment, the oddity of their color caught him—the amber of a wildcat’s eyes—but he thought them beautiful.
“Then perhaps you might be interested in extending your employment with me.”
She took a moment to study him. It may have been only to determine if he were serious but he was grateful her response wasn’t an immediate no. When he’d accepted the job, he’d known he had some gaps when it came to handling horses. Well, more than gaps if he were honest. But after watching Liz with the Catria and understanding how traumatic the animal’s experiences had been, he had to accept he might need equally experienced help when he found the next and the one after that. And he was determined to find them all.
“I didn’t realize I was actually employed,” she admitted. “Not once I left Summer Valley Ranch, anyway. I came with you because Milo needed me.”
“And the next will need you as well. I could muddle through finding a groom of some sort, but if any of them have been traumatized as the Catria was…” He let the suggestion trail, gave her time to consider.
She didn’t take much, thankfully. “I’m pricey,” she warned bluntly. When he just nodded, she added, “I’ll stick with you until the horses are home safe. Where next?”
“We’ll find out in Rome. I’ve been summoned.”
“So, we’ll ride back on the jet? With Anya?”
He’d already considered and rejected that thought. “No, Stack’s right. That jet needs to be empty. We’ll take other transportation.”
Something in his tone must have warned her. She looked at him suspiciously and asked, “What transportation?”
* * *
I’m not opposed to motorcycles in a general way. I’ve even napped a time or two upon a leather seat warmed by the sun. I am dubious about the creature comforts of such on a lengthy cross-country trip. However, one does what one must.
Nestled in a knapsack between my two temporary humans, I’m cozy for the moment. The morning rain has stopped and Will’s broad shoulders block the wind. I catch only infrequent glimpses of sunlight. As I let sleep overtake me, I wonder if I’m experiencing what humans call jetlag. Whether or not that is the case, I’ll take advantage of some nap time now as it may prove hard to come by later.
* * *
Liz stared around her in silence. Even in the dim light of evening, Rome was breathtaking, everything she might have imagined, had she ever really considered the possibility she would see it for herself. She wasn’t a world traveler, never expected to find herself out of the States, though she longed to return to Ireland someday. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she felt more alive than she had in some time, excited by the prospects before her of places and things she never dreamed of seeing.
Old buildings towered above a street almost too narrow for more than one lane of traffic, yet drivers zipped past fearlessly in both directions, headlights shining on paved stone. On the way into the city, Will had navigated streets of worn brick or cobblestone slicked by decades of travel. Liz had seen very little asphalt and she didn’t miss the acrid smell of it.
With his hand on her back, Will escorted her into their hotel. The cat nestled in her arms. She wouldn’t have known it for a hotel by the exterior which blended perfectly with the buildings on either side. The one large mullioned window, covered by a filmy curtain, had revealed only a small sitting area. The key to a suite awaited them at the front desk. A young woman with a friendly look handed over the key with a smile as soon as Will identified himself.
“You were advised of our cat?”
“Certamente. You’ve been given a suite with a private terrazza. There is a small,” she hesitated choosing her words carefully, “opening in the door there. The cat may come and go as it pleases.”
Her accent was heavy but Liz was amazed at how well she spoke English. She said as much to Will as they took the lift to their floor.
“Most who live and work in the tourist cities seem to speak several languages well. If I’m not mistaken, Italy is still in the top ten countries with the largest tourism income.”
They stepped out onto black and white tile floors that, although well-maintained, showed their age and were, perhaps, original. Liz liked that they’d not been replaced with the nondescript carpeting so prevalent in American hotels but she felt as if she’d entered a time warp. The door to their suite could have been a hundred years old but when she stepped inside the tiny sitting area, more an alcove than anything, she fell in love with polished wood floors and ornate molding at the crown and base of the walls. Trouble immediately leaped to a wide windowsill where sunlight streamed through.
Liz turned in a slow circle. “Wow.”
Will smiled at her reaction and she realized for the first time that he had an almost dimple in one cheek. “I refuse to stay anywhere else after I found this place. Fortunately, the Italian government is footing the bill. So far, they’ve balked at nothing. All they want are results and I’m their best bet.”
It could have sounded like bragging but Liz recognized he wasn’t, not at all. His tone was matter-of-fact.
“They got their results. You’ve delivered,” she pointed out.
“One,” he reminded. “No reason for accolades with four more missing and no clues on the identity of the thieves or, more importantly, the mastermind behind the thefts.” He glanced at the doors on each side of them. “You can take either room.”
Liz peeked in first one and then the other. Like the sitting space with its single sofa, both had one window with deep casings and a door that opened onto the terrace bey
ond. The bathrooms were identical with showers that were not only new but beautifully equipped.
She tossed her duffle on the floor of one and said, “I’m hungry.”
* * *
She was, Will suspected, also exhausted. Dark smudges under her eyes told their own story. Nine hours by motorcycle, even broken by stops for food and fuel, could be grueling but she hadn’t complained a single time. Nor had the cat, who, he reminded himself, was probably also hungry. Lunch had been skimpy and a long time ago.
“There’s a restaurant two doors over.” It also happened to be one of his favorites.
“What about Trouble?”
“He’ll be welcome as long as we’re discreet with him.”
The cat watched their exchange with interest. Will had fewer and fewer doubts that the creature could follow any conversation with ease.
“I’ll be ready in fifteen,” Liz told him then walked into the room she’d chosen and closed the door. When Will heard her turn the shower on, he headed to his room to do the same. Twelve minutes later, he wasn’t the least surprised to find her and the cat waiting on the small sofa when he stepped out of his room.
She got to her feet, scooping up a pile of what looked to be dirty clothes from the floor. “I’ll need to wash these.”
Will studied her a moment, the almost shoulder-length hair combed but still damp, the scrubbed face with that scattering of light freckles, and an errant thought crossed his mind. She’d barely taken time to shower and dress much less put on makeup. Those incredibly long lashes were all hers and, like the arched brows, were naturally several shades deeper than her hair. Her hair was the same golden brown as her freckles. None of which had a damned thing to do with finding and returning stolen horses, he reminded himself.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll get my laundry as well. There’s a bin for things to be laundered in a small room near the front desk. We can leave them there with a note and they’ll be ready by morning.”
When that task was behind them, they walked the short distance between hotel and restaurant where the host seated them near the door while pretending not to see the black cat slip under the table.
With orders placed and wine poured, Will recapped what he knew of the disappearances of the remaining horses. It wasn’t much. Liz was quiet for several moments before she asked, “How do you think Natalie or Nadine, which ever she is, fits into the theft of the Catria?”
“Actually,” he admitted slowly, “I’m beginning to think she’s the one thing that doesn’t fit.” The idea had begun pushing its way into his brain for some time. He’d rejected it initially because he couldn’t make the logistics work but neither could he make the veterinary student’s actions and what had happened to her fit any scenario. “She would have needed some serious connections to remove the horse from Italy to the States. And I can’t find any hint of that in her background, nothing that would make it look plausible but you know as well as I do that anything is possible. People do a lot of things for a lot of really dumb reasons.”
“But your gut…?”
“Says no. She was dedicated to her job, to the horses in her care. Nothing suspect in her past. No sudden income to her account. No boyfriend of dubious connection.”
“So, she was made to go under duress. Possibly the thieves forced her to go with them when the stallion proved recalcitrant. Or maybe even planned to take her all along?”
Will caught on to her line of thinking. “Or she was duped,” he tossed out another possibility.
Liz frowned. “And when she found out she was duped—or managed to free herself—she ran off with Milo.”
“Which got her killed. But there’s another possibility. Perhaps she stumbled on the theft in progress and insisted upon going, thinking she could prevent something bad from happening to the horse.”
Liz nodded. “I can picture that.”
“And I’m leaning that way,” Will admitted. “Because if she didn’t come willingly, lowering their guard, how in the world were they careless enough to let her…not just get away from them…but get away with the stallion?”
She shrugged and grinned. “Men are stupid?”
Liking the impish look on her, he returned it. “There is that.”
Her smile dimmed and he felt a sense of awareness. She’d been hurt but now wasn’t the time to explore that. If he ever did.
“But the thieves could as easily be a gang of women,” he suggested.
“Hmmm.” She appeared to give it some thought. “Does it have to be a gang?”
“There may not be accomplices just a mastermind and underlings but it took more than one person to spirit these horses past security systems—and onto a boat in the case of the Catria, if we’re correct on that assumption.”
“With either scenario, it took money.”
“It takes money to make money.” Which circled him right back to the fact that no ransom had been demanded in return for their exchange. He said as much to Liz.
“Is motive important to you? Or is it enough to find the horses and stop the thieves?”
The question gave him pause. It was one he’d often asked himself. “Motive…what drives people…is often a means to understanding them and anticipating their next action.”
“Which leads to finding them and solving whatever mystery you’re chasing.” She tilted her head as she watched his reaction to her words. “But that’s not all for you, is it?”
He laughed without humor. “No. I’ve always had a curiosity about what drives people to do what they do. It can be irritating at times, can even get in the way of working a case.”
The conversation was interrupted by the server returning with their orders. Liz had allowed their hostess to choose for her. Will watched as she dug in with a sigh. He knew from experience the hot pasta was filled with the spiciest meat mixture he’d ever tasted yet cooled, somehow, by the scattering of fresh greens with tiny tomatoes cut in half across the top. He savored his own first bite of fettuccine covered with red prawn, clams, and grilled octopus. Beneath the table, he could hear the rumble of Trouble’s appreciation for a plateful of steamed seabass. True Italian cuisine was matchless.
Both cleaned their plates but neither had room for dessert, tempting as it was. Liz did sip at a strong espresso, tempted beyond resistance, she admitted, by the aroma. When she’d finished, they walked back to the hotel in silence.
As they stepped into the quiet of their suite, Will told her they would breakfast early. “We meet with Signore Donus Cervelli at 8:00.”
She looked startled. “I’m going with you?”
“You’re a member of my team until this is over or you opt out. He’s expecting you.”
He could, of course, have briefed her after his meeting but with a girl murdered and shots fired in Atlanta while they boarded the plane, he preferred she have first-hand knowledge of what they were up against. Besides, he’d begun to have a healthy respect for her perspective and her gritty determination. And he wanted her close enough that he could protect her.
* * *
While the humans do what humans do, I must entertain myself. I confess I feel a pinch of chagrin that I’m not to attend the upcoming exchange of information. Even the best of my temporary humans tend to forget the criticality of sharing the more miniscule—to them—bits of information.
However, my exasperation fades as I step out onto the tiny terrace. The sun is glorious and the temperature perfection. Birds hop enticingly along the vine covered brick wall. Whilst living creatures are safe from me as far as appetite, they can be interesting to send scattering in flight, particularly as they are wont to return again and again providing for some minutes of entertainment. Because I’m easily bored by the mundane, the appeal soon fades. I leap to the brick ledge which is wide enough for me to recline in comfort while I gaze upon the street below. I allow the birds to hop about undisturbed while the sun teases me into state of somnolence.
Chapter Seven
Rome
by day was as fascinating in its own way as Rome by night. The flow of traffic mindboggling. Or lack of flow, Liz corrected herself. Where there should have been two lanes there were sometimes three, even four, as motorcycles and mini-cars made their own weaving path through sedans and buses. The result reflected a constant state of chaos.
The layout of the streets fascinated her. They seemed to have been arranged around the ancient buildings rather than the towering edifices having been built along the streets. And the streets continually divided around vee-shaped structures. Some of the vees of those buildings appeared so narrow she wondered what could possibly fit in that space on the interior other than the single window on each floor.
Looking up made her dizzy but so did looking ahead as Will negotiated for space with the same speed and skill as the Italians around him. Instead, she gave her attention to the businesses located at street level. For the most part, the shops appeared small and busy neighborhood venues with their doors standing open to the foot traffic beyond. But with one sharp turn, they moved into an area of costlier stores. Here entrances were not only closed but locked until admittance was requested.
She twisted to glance back at one—to be sure she wasn’t mistaken—but, yes, the attendant who’d unlocked for a patron, immediately locked the door behind him. When she turned forward again, the beauty of the structure in front of them took her breath. For the first time, she was tempted to use the wireless speaker in the helmet Will had provided but decided swiftly she’d prefer he kept his focus on the road rather than answering her curiosity about her surroundings.
Their final destination proved modern, which was disappointing, but its grandeur was undeniable. Liz felt herself dwarfed by the height of the ceilings in the marble-tiled corridors. Her jeans and lace-up boots felt out of place as she matched Will’s long stride. Regardless, she kept her chin high. Will stepped aside to allow her to precede him into a small reception area where they were greeted by a young man who stepped from behind a narrow desk to usher them into a massive office.
A Whisper of Trouble Page 7