A Whisper of Trouble

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A Whisper of Trouble Page 19

by Susan Y. Tanner


  Will quickly thought through a couple different options but didn’t like the danger to Liz. “I’m good. Make it happen.”

  He broke the connection and glanced at Liz. She gave him a smile and a nod and he focused on the road. The next exit was brightly lit with a gas station and a fast food chain. He passed it by. The one after was a rural highway with no lighted signs on either side to indicate stores or businesses.

  “Liz, I’m going to need you to watch the truck behind and let me know when the tire goes. You’ll know as soon as it happens. The headlights will appear to lurch one way or the other even if the driver manages to keep to the road. And make sure your seatbelt is snug just in case.”

  Keeping the truck at a steady speed, he shifted from the middle to the turn lane. The truck behind him and then Cam shifted with him. He made the curve onto the ramp, then eased off on the accelerator, forcing the truck behind him to slow so Cam’s shot would be easier.

  Liz said, “Now,” and Will turned his headlights off briefly in order to check for oncoming traffic on the highway behind the stop sign at the end of the ramp. There wasn’t so much as a glimmer of approaching headlights and he crossed without stopping.

  “He wasn’t able to keep on the road. He spun to the shoulder.”

  “Cam?”

  “He seems fine. Just pulled around them and kept going. He’s crossing the highway now.”

  When he’d made the ramp, he waited for Stack to call. It didn’t take long.

  “Cam said that went well.”

  Will glanced back. Cam still followed at a steady pace. A few cars sped by along with a semi, otherwise the interstate was quiet.

  “Without a hitch. Give him my thanks for now and I’ll send something more concrete for you to give him.”

  “No need, all in a day’s work.”

  “It’s after hours. Call it an overtime bonus.”

  Stack chuckled, “It’s not necessary but I know he’ll appreciate it. New baby, lots of bills.” He hesitated then added, “You know, I hate to tell you this because I love all the admiration from you on our successes but this bunch you’re dealing with…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Feels to me like an amateur operation,” Stack suggested.

  “More than a bit. I’ve suspected for a while that the overall plan was well-thought. It’s the execution that’s been sloppy. Almost as if a mastermind planned it but hired people off the street to make it happen.”

  “Which can sometimes prove far more dangerous than a team of professionals,” Stack cautioned. “An amateur can send things to hell in a handbasket in short order.”

  “Point taken.”

  After the call, Will looked at Liz and said, “Maybe you should try for a nap.”

  “And miss the next round of excitement?” She shook her head. “Why should you have all the fun?”

  It wasn’t quite dawn when Will stopped the truck in front of their cabins. An exhausted Liz had fallen asleep in spite of herself. He walked around the truck to open her door. Half-asleep, she nearly stumbled as she stepped down and he caught her, steadied her. “Can you walk?”

  “Hmmm, soon as I get my bearings.” She gave him a rueful smile and he walked her to her door.

  “Thanks for a fun evening.”

  “My pleasure. Maybe next time we can foil a bank robbery or something,” he suggested.

  That drew a chuckle from her. “Never a dull moment.”

  He stepped back as she gently closed the door and walked to his cabin.

  * * *

  My stars, it’s about time those two returned home. I should never have let them leave without me. I’ve been fearful they found themselves neck-deep in difficulties without me to assist.

  On the other hand, there is little doubt in my mind that our Jana needed me here. That Vincente fellow proved a nasty piece of work and I trust nothing about him.

  As soon as Tucker arrived home, I could shift my attention from comforting Jana to surveillance. I’ve knackered myself making rounds through the night. Should Avery Hanna return home to find Jack or one of his precious offspring missing, her devastation would know no bounds. That cannot be permitted. Not on my watch!

  I shall have a bit of a nap at Liz’s doorstep between rounds and wait for the weary travelers to arise.

  * * *

  Will awakened to bright morning sunlight and Trouble sitting on the table at the side of his bed and staring him in the face. “Had a boring evening, did you?” He’d swear the cat gave him a haughty look before jumping to the floor and grumbling a response that Will thought was just as well he didn’t understand.

  Wandering out he found the air nippier than in previous days with a brisk wind blowing from the north. Liz sat on her front porch with a cup of coffee. He’d never seen a woman look sexier than she did with tousled hair, no makeup, and a flannel shirt. “Do you have more of that,” he asked.

  She lifted her cup toward the front door that stood open. “On the counter.”

  He helped himself before walking out to take the chair beside her. He watched the cat, who’d followed him, curl up at Liz’s feet. “Did you send him to wake me?”

  “I’m not sure I could send him anywhere.”

  Trouble blinked up at her and Will opted for silence.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  “I start combing back through all of the files I’ve stored on the stallions that were stolen.”

  “The ones still missing?”

  He shook his head. “Everything. We’ve identified some links but not the most important one.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “I’m thinking we make a diagram with Italy at one end and the Florida coast as the other. Then we add in where the Catria and the Tolfetano were taken in…and maybe where we got that lead on the Ventasso.”

  She looked at him quickly. “You’ve had news on the Ventasso?”

  “Nope. Just my gut telling me there’s a greater chance it’s him than not.”

  “I’d trust that.”

  As much as Will liked the sound of that, the story wasn’t ready for a happy ending. “We located the vet in Atmore, Alabama who pulled the file on the EIA test. Unfortunately, the person who paid for it was a professional equine hauler. He got stopped at one of the check stations but had papers authorizing him to transport a horse matching the description on the papers so a local vet was called to perform the test. Three days later, the results were in, the horse was released from quarantine, and the driver was allowed to go his way. The guards remembered him…polite, genial about the delay, asked them to talk with the owner so that he didn’t get in trouble which they were glad to do. Carson tracked the guy down in Ohio but all he knew was that he’d handed the horse off near Atlanta as he’d been instructed to do. The next hauler’s ID matched the name on his email instructions.”

  “And, let me guess, the next hauler disappeared from the face of the earth. With the Ventasso.”

  “No, he surfaced in Canada with a black horse that almost looked like the photograph. Just not almost enough.”

  “No thin white curve over the left nostril.”

  “Not so much as single white hair.”

  * * *

  With another cup of coffee each, they settled into silence, neither ready to get to work. As Tucker walked toward them, Will pondered how much he liked hearing that Liz would trust his gut. And what it meant for his future when he returned to his routine and she returned to hers.

  “Got a minute?” Tucker asked, leaning one shoulder against one of the columns supporting the roof of the porch.

  “Problem?”

  “Maybe. Vincente returned yesterday evening. Before I got back from my farm call. Jana wasn’t happy.”

  Will didn’t like the sound of that. “What did he want?”

  “He implied he was looking for stolen horses.”

  “The stallions?”

  Tucker shook his head. “Not particularly. Jana felt
it was more that he was accusing Summer Valley Ranch of theft.”

  “Interesting. I may have to do some homework on Mr. Vincente.”

  “I looked him up when he first asked to check out the ranch. His website is impressive and he appears to be no more, no less than what he told me. He has a small stud farm in Tennessee and he’s looking to make a name for himself. His daughter seems to have won several impressive hunter/jumper competitions and he plans to broaden his holdings in that direction.”

  “But?”

  “But Jana has a bad feeling and so do I. I don’t like that he was here under false pretenses, initially, and then returned when I wasn’t here.”

  “I’ll do some digging.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “I also suggest you keep Jana close. I don’t like that he came back when she was alone, any more than you. If he were watching the place—which I’d suspect he was—he knew we were all gone. She’s too vulnerable.”

  Tucker’s expression tightened. “That won’t be the case from here on out. Until this is resolved, she goes where I go.”

  “I’ll do a deep dive into his background,” Will assured him, “His behavior doesn’t match his story.”

  Tucker pushed away from the post. “I’ve got work to do and know you do, too. We can talk about what you find this evening.” He hesitated. “I appreciate you being here, both of you. If you weren’t, I’d probably be asking Avery and Dirks to return. I haven’t kept them in the dark but I’ve felt it was okay to keep those conversations low-key so they aren’t alarmed.”

  Liz watched him walk away then got to her feet. She gave Will a solemn look. “I didn’t look at what’s been happening from Tucker’s perspective. He’s carrying a load.”

  “Not one he’s had much experience with,” Will agreed.

  “And speaking of loads, why don’t I do the diagrams on the missing stallions while you do some digging into Mr. Vincente?”

  “Sounds like a plan. Shall we get to work?”

  * * *

  Liz has chosen to scatter her work across Avery’s dining table. I elect to share the deck swing with Will as he powers up his laptop. I’m fascinated with the turn of events. It isn’t often that I get to work two cases at once. I’m still fully vested in the case of the missing stallions as I know Will is as well. However, my protective instinct for Summer Valley ranch and its denizens, as well as my inherent distaste for Mr. Vincente, have me anxious to determine the man’s interest in this place.

  Will’s approach into research fascinates me. He first spends an hour reading up on stud farms in general, then facilities in the midsouth states, then Tennessee in particular. When he zeroes in on the property belonging to Harrison Vincente, even I am impressed. Unwillingly so, but impressed nonetheless.

  He pinpoints it on a topography map in the central part of the state. One hundred acres of rolling hills and a private lake. The raw land was purchased two years prior under private sale, the previous owner now living happily on a yacht in the Gulf of Mexico. Yes, Will’s search did meander a bit in my opinion, proving him nothing if not thorough. From there, we go to the farm’s website.

  To date, there’s been a good bit of progress on the property with a showplace of a barn, not ostentatiously large but of the first order in aesthetics. His paddocks look nicely sized in regard to the creation of the hunter-jumper facility he plans to create.

  He’s purchased three warmblood stallions to date and four brood mares, all descended from two German breeds—Hanoverians and Holsteiners—both renowned for their natural jumping abilities.

  From there, Will shifts to news articles about Vincente, himself, including a look at his credit report and a criminal records search. Vincente was born into wealth—could we all be so fortunate—and, while he’s done little to increase it, he has been frugal in living on the stock investments he’s made. He is indebted to no one for his acquisitions and he takes care of what he owns.

  Something catches my eye as Will moves the pointer to close out the page. I quickly put my paw upon his hand then touch the screen where a tiny line reads, ‘stallion still missing from property of wealthy Tennessean’.

  Will rubs my ears in a gesture of appreciation and clicks on the link. We study the news clipping together. The first of the three stallions Vincente purchased, a magnificent looking creature with an impressive lineage and list of earnings, was stolen more than six months prior. The final line of the article is the key. ‘To date, Vincente has refused to settle with his insurance company upon the loss of the horse and continues to offer rewards for information that leads to the animal’s return.’

  So now we must ask ourselves the truth of how and why he zeroed in on Summer Valley Ranch. As a working facility worth mimicking architecturally? Or as a possible link to his missing stallion?

  * * *

  Will leaned back in the swing, pondering. Like Trouble, intuition warned him that the theft of Vincente’s stallion was more at the heart of his visits to Summer Valley than any logistical planning for his own property. But why? Some tie back to Avery’s sleazy ex? Even though he was long gone from the scene?

  After a moment, he stood up from the swing and looked at the cat. “Let’s go talk with Liz about this.”

  The cat made a sound that he took for approval and followed him into the house.

  She looked up with a smile as he walked into the room. ‘Hi, there. Find anything?”

  “Maybe. What would you think of a man who doesn’t accept his insurance company’s offer for full settlement on a stolen stallion?”

  “In a word? Greedy, if he’s hoping for more.”

  “Doesn’t seem to be the case. Just wants his stallion back.”

  “A man of integrity, then.”

  “We’re talking about Vincente.”

  She straightened. “Changes things,” she said easily. She was silent for several moments while he waited. “Well, huh, I’d say it’s a means to an end but to what end I can’t figure.”

  “Me, either,” Will admitted. “I was hoping you’d see something I didn’t.”

  “How much is the stallion worth?”

  “He’s got an excellent pedigree, according to the article, and earned more than a hundred thousand as a four-year-old eventer. He was injured and retired to stud. Vincente bought him before his first crop of foals hit the ground.”

  “That’s a good amount for a four-year-old, shows his potential, what it would have been with time and experience. Even so, it doesn’t make him as high priced as you might imagine. Unless he was used in Olympic competition. That’s a game-changer.”

  “I didn’t see that anywhere in his records.”

  “Another game-changer would be offspring that clearly inherited his athleticism but, since he was bought before any of his babies were born, that wouldn’t be a factor. What is Vincente offering for his return?”

  “Two million.”

  Her eyes widened. “Let me revamp my thoughts. I’d say he’s a man with an oversized wallet to match his oversized ego. He’s had something taken from him and he’s determined to get it back and happy to prove money is no object.”

  “Which doesn’t explain why he’d be looking for him here.”

  “We don’t know for sure that he is, do we?” Liz countered.

  “No, but—.”

  “I know, your gut says…”

  He smiled. “Just remember, it’s gotten me a long way so far. And right now, it tells me I need to be working on the stallions from Italy. Show me your diagram. Love the purple and green by the way.”

  * * *

  Liz heard the playful tone in his voice. She also heard the underlying frustration. But she followed his lead and kept it on the lighter side.

  “The purple stars are Florida’s international airports, Tampa, Orlando, and Daytona Beach being the furthest north. The purple circles are Florida seaports that look large enough to accommodate international transport, at least on paper. One in Tampa an
d one in Jacksonville.”

  “My money is still on air travel.”

  “Mine, too,” she said drolly, “particularly since Stack’s crew has proven how uncomplicated it can be to get from point A to point B.”

  Will chuckled at her tone. “Believe me, it’s plenty complicated for them but they do make it easy for us. I take it the green lines are interstates?”

  “Owen, I mean Milo, surfaced here, which looks to be more by accident than design, and the Tolfetano surfaced near Macon and the Ventasso was briefly delayed in Atmore then taken to Atlanta.”

  “So, I-65 and I-75.”

  “And from there, the destination could be anyplace, USA.”

  “Or Canada.”

  “I thought about that but why bother with the States at all?”

  “Possibly with an eye to muddying the waters.”

  “Is that a good probability or a long shot?”

  “Somewhere in between.”

  She nodded at that and turned her attention back to her diagram. “I could add in the most direct routes to Canada,” she offered, “but my gut tells me whoever planned this wouldn’t have factored in so much additional travel time.”

  Will grinned and she realized she’d used his terminology for instinct—her gut. “Where do you think he’s sending them?”

  “I’d put money on Kentucky. It’s horse country. If I wanted to hide a horse in plain sight, that’s where I’d head but,” she cautioned, “if I were planning this, I’d also vary my route.”

  “As would I. I’m just not entirely sure he’s got a road crew he can count on to follow orders.” Will’s tone was dry.

  “I’m with you there.”

  To her surprise, he took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Let’s take a walk. My brain needs a break.”

 

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