by Laura Crum
Justin appeared to consider this. “It wasn’t personal,” he said at last. “I needed a scapegoat. I heard Lorene and Lonny arguing that night at Lonny’s and figured he was my man. I took his gun. It worked exactly the way I planned.”
“Except, Kate saw you.”
Justin shook his head. “Bad luck,” he said.
“So you killed her and her little girl?”
“Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.” Justin still sounded calm and unworried. “I read her silly blog and realized that she was going to talk eventually. Lonny was out of jail and I figured John Green would suspect him. And he does. And you,” he said firmly, “are not going to mess up my plans.” I saw the muzzle of the gun shift ever so slightly, so that it was trained in the middle of my chest.
I swallowed. I felt icy cold and clear, despite my racing heart. I needed to keep him talking.
“Did you ride through Lonny’s pasture at night?” I said, as matter-of-factly as I could manage. “I saw you, you know. From my camper. I told Bret.”
Justin’s half smile became, if anything, more pronounced. “You might have seen me the first time I rode through. I didn’t know your camper was there. But that’s not when I torched the house. I was just checking it out to make sure I had a nice simple route to ride to her place. And I did. When I came back to set the fire, I took a different line across the pasture. I knew your camper was there. You never saw me.”
“Why did you ride?” I asked him.
“That ought to be obvious. I can get around that country on horseback at night like you wouldn’t believe. I wear dark clothes. Nobody ever sees me. How do you think Cole and I came by those cattle?”
“I can guess,” I said.
“You won’t be around to keep guessing much longer,” Justin said. His tone was cool. The gun barrel was steady.
“It won’t work to shoot me,” I said clearly. “Bret already knows what I found in this house. I’ve been here before. You will only tie yourself to another murder.”
Justin appeared to consider this. “I don’t think so,” he said. He raised the gun.
“How are you going to explain a body here?” I demanded. “Better at least take me into the woods.”
I watched his face, saw the point register. If he changed his focus for a second, I was going to go. I bumped my heels against Sunny’s sides ever so slightly, waking the horse up. He’d stood patiently for this whole conversation, ignoring the stormy gusts of wind and spits of rain that buffeted us, waiting for my signal. Now he took an edgy step at my cue.
Justin seemed to be considering his situation. Sunny took another step. My eyes never left the man’s face. I kept bumping Sunny’s sides lightly.
“I was never here,” Justin said steadily. “This isn’t my gun. It’s Cole’s. Someone stole it from this house and shot you. A mystery. Not a problem for me.”
He raised the gun. I opened my mouth as the wind blew its fiercest gust yet, drowning my words. The sky rumbled and a sudden crashing branch in the trees to our left made all three of us jump.
Now. I kicked Sunny with all my strength, ducked low over his neck and charged forward down the hill, not looking back. I heard the sharp crack of the pistol, and kicked harder. Go, go, go.
We were plunging down the hill through the wind and rain, Sunny throwing me off balance as he bolted, out of control, away from the gunshot. I grabbed the horn and hung on, trying to stay low on his neck. Another shot rang out.
I could feel no impact. My horse was still moving sound. We were around the bend. I thumped furiously on Sunny’s sides and he careened down the hill. We were getting away.
Chapter 23
Staying on was the problem. Plunging downhill at the gallop, I was slung from one side of the horse to the other like a rag doll despite my grip on the saddle horn. I made an effort to check Sunny with the lead rope, desperate to stay aboard, and felt him slow a bit. I pulled myself upright and risked a glance backward up the drive.
Nothing but trees tossing in the wind. I blinked. Still nothing. If he’d run after me, he would be in sight by now.
I slowed Sunny to a long trot, fast enough to keep moving down the hill briskly, but a lot easier to stay with. I did not want to fall off. Justin had to be coming after me. He’d incriminated himself too thoroughly. But I still didn’t see him.
I was almost at the bottom of the drive. I could see Tucker Pond ahead, brown and ruffled, its reeds waving wildly. Sunny pulled hard against the lead rope, wanting to go home. Rain and wind spit at us. We were on level ground. Dropping my hand, I gave the horse slack and let him go.
In one stride we were galloping. I could hear the echoing thuds of Sunny’s hoofbeats as he thundered along the trail by the pond. His ponderous, rolling gait smoothed out as he drove harder and we started up the hill.
Sunny grunted with effort, the wind whipped my face, the ground pounded beneath me, the trees tossed and moaned above, and the storm howled. Everything seemed to be whirling around in a noisy inferno, punctuated with cold and wet. I couldn’t see much. All I could hear was cacophony.
A sudden eerie white light flared; a moment later the sky boomed. Part of my mind noted that this was thunder and not gunfire. I hung on and let the horse go.
He galloped on up the hill, his breath coming harder now. A few more driving strides and we were nearing the top of the climb. I could feel Sunny easing up and used the lead rope to slow him as we dove into the tangled shrubbery, still following the trail.
Branches slapped me; I ducked low over the horse’s neck. Sunny stumbled suddenly, throwing me forward. I grabbed the horn in time to avoid being flung off his back. Pulling on the lead rope, I slowed him to a trot.
“Easy,” I said. “Let’s get home in one piece.”
Sunny was tired. He checked down easily and trotted through the brush, breathing out long rolling snorts as he went. We passed the ruins of the Richardson house, half blotted out by vines and mist. I pulled Sunny up at the black skeleton of the swingset and could feel his flanks heaving.
“Easy,” I said again. “Grab some air. We’ve got a ways to go.”
I looked back at the trail behind us. Sunny stared, too. The oak trees tossed above the green-leafed vinca. Strange wraiths of mist twisted between the redwoods across the valley. Raindrops swirled around me in gusts. Sunny’s ears went sharply forward and his head came up. And then he neighed.
For a second I didn’t understand. And then I saw. Charging through the brush, coming toward us, a horse and rider. Galloping. A dark horse with a dark-clad rider.
Oh shit. He’d mounted one of the horses in the corral. He was coming after me.
I tugged on the lead rope and thumped Sunny’s ribs with my legs. But the horse danced in place, his eyes on the oncoming horseman. Using the lead rope, I whipped his sides, and he leapt forward in a sudden lunge. I ducked forward over his neck and heard the sharp crack of the pistol above the storm.
Come on, come on. He was right behind me.
I didn’t look back, just rode for all I was worth. We were charging up the hill between the oak trees, headed for the ridgeline. Sunny was running as hard as he could, excited by the shots and the galloping horse behind him, but he wasn’t a particularly fast horse. I hoped the dark horse wasn’t either.
Trees swept by, raindrops beat against my face. I could feel Sunny digging hard, grunting as he drove forward up the slope. I wasn’t hearing any more shots. Nor could I hear following hoofbeats on my trail.
I risked a glance backward as we topped the ridge. He was still coming, but we’d pulled away. He was bareback with a halter; I had the advantage. I spun Sunny and headed down the hill at the long trot.
I absolutely had to stay on. If he caught me, he’d shoot me. He was chasing me against the odds because if I got away I’d ruin him. I just had to stay out front, not fall off, and make it home. I knew exactly how hard it would be for him to hit me with a pistol from the back of a moving horse. Esp
ecially with him riding bareback, especially if I were moving, too. The odds were in my favor. Unless I fell off.
As if on cue, Sunny stumbled again, and I lurched forward over his shoulder, saving myself at the last second with a grab for the horn. My heart seemed to bounce up my throat into my mouth, and I gasped for air, checking the horse with the lead rope as I pulled myself upright. My God.
I could hear crashing on the slope above me and kicked Sunny forward. I couldn’t stop. He’d catch me. But I couldn’t fall off either.
I need to get through this, I prayed to whatever was out there. Help me. I have to get home. I need to be there for Mac, I can’t die. Mac needs me.
Rain and wind beat at me; Sunny lurched from side to side as we jolted down the trail. I knew Justin was behind me; I didn’t dare take the time to look back. I kept riding, my eyes on the trail ahead, looking for obstacles, trying to stay balanced and on top of the horse, checking him as well as I could with the lead rope and halter as we came to a steep bank.
Sunny half slithered, half slid down, and we were on the trail that ran through the relatively level pampas grass meadow. I kicked the horse up to a gallop.
Sunny leaped forward just as the shot cracked out. I kicked him again as he bounded; grabbing the saddle horn, I clung on as we lunged between the big, tossing clumps of pampas grass. Through a haze of rain I recognized that we were taking the route that led to the sidehill trail, the most direct way home. Whether chosen by Sunny or myself I wasn’t sure.
Sunny was bolting in earnest now. I leaned forward over his neck and tried to stay with him. Rain lashed at my face. As we crossed the open ground in the middle of the meadow a great gust of wind broadsided us like an open-handed slap. Sunny snorted and slung his head, but didn’t break stride; I gasped and tried to shake my wet hair out of my eyes. Between my hair and the blowing storm, I was half-blinded.
We were almost across the meadow now, coming to the scattered oaks on the far side. As we reached the cover of the closest trees, I risked checking Sunny for a look back. The dark horse and rider were instantly visible. Justin was galloping across the meadow, headed for me.
I spun Sunny and kicked him back to the gallop. The horse drove forward, propelled by adrenaline as much as my cue. I thanked God he was bold and strong. Despite the wild storm buffeting us and the sudden gunshots, Sunny was charging as if in the front line of a battle.
I rode. We were galloping towards the ridgeline, soon we would drop over onto the narrow trail that led through the forest. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled. Rain blew in my face; wind dinned in my ears. The world was a dark, noisy kaleidoscope, rushing around me.
We topped the ridge and I slowed Sunny to the long trot as we took the narrow, winding sidehill trail. We were in the eucalyptus now, the tall trunks groaning and creaking as they swayed above us, the crowns tossing and roaring like surf over our heads.
Swiping the water out of my eyes with one hand, I gasped as Sunny stumbled. Again I grabbed for the horn; Sunny recovered himself in one stride and trotted on, plunging down a little gully and up the other side. I kept my attention forward and rode for all I was worth. I knew Justin was back there, but I also knew that I could go faster than he could. Riding bareback at the gallop with a pistol in one hand would be difficult at the best of times and riding a strange horse in a rainstorm was hardly the best of times.
It was dark under the trees, but the wind and rain were less. Sunny trotted on the downhill slopes and loped on the rises. The brush and trees were thick and tangled around us and I felt a little safer. Justin could hardly see to shoot me here.
I tried to stay balanced and forward on Sunny, where he could most easily carry me. I could tell he was getting tired, steam rose from his coat and his flanks heaved under me, but he didn’t seem to be weakening.
Whack! My knee exploded in a sudden blast. I gasped with pain and lurched sideways in the saddle. Not shot, I realized; I’d collided with a very solid trunk that leaned into the trail. I gritted my teeth and rode on.
Ahead was the branch that Mac and I called the head-bonker. I needed to stay focused; I needed not to miss my duck. That tree would knock me off, if not knock me out. I couldn’t fail here. We were getting near the road. I’d be safe soon.
My knee screamed a protest, but I ignored it. I kept Sunny in the trot. I didn’t look back. I just needed to get through this last bit of woods. There was the low, solid branch ahead. I’d never gone under it at any gait but the walk. I didn’t dare slow down now.
I took a deep breath and threw myself forward, flat on Sunny’s neck, grabbing his long mane for support. I prayed he wouldn’t stumble, wouldn’t take this opportunity to dump me. I clung to him like a burr and kept my head down.
Wet leaves brushed me; I pulled myself upright. The branch was behind me. I couldn’t see the pursuit. But I could hear him. He was coming. I clucked to Sunny and we half trotted, half slid down the steep hill and then loped through the shrieking, waving eucalyptus trees, Sunny popping over the downed branches in our path. One more steep little slither downhill, and I could see the road ahead of me. The whiz of car tires on wet pavement was audible over the storm. I could see the vehicles rushing by beyond the trees. Sunny was pulling hard; he knew he was near home.
We galloped across the meadow and I used all my strength to pull Sunny up in the oak grove. The road was ahead. It would achieve nothing to escape Justin only to be hit by a car.
I struggled to control my fractious, prancing horse with just a halter, as I stood at the shoulder of the road, peering desperately into the rain, seeking a clearing to cross in. I’m safe, I told myself. I’m safe. He can’t shoot me here, with all these cars and people.
But I wasn’t sure. The cars were blasting by on the wet road, no one was really watching me. I could hear the horse coming, crashing through the trees and down across the meadow. I had to cross, I had to.
I strained to see through the rain. It looked clear. I couldn’t see a car. I kicked Sunny and he jumped forward, his hooves slipping a bit on the wet pavement as he scrambled into a lope. I grabbed the horn and tried to steady his head. He stayed up and we loped across the road and up the hill on the other side. I pulled him up behind a big Monterey pine and looked back.
Through the flying sheets of rain I could see the dark horse with the dark-clad rider reach the other side of the road. The horse was galloping, clearly out of control; the man was aboard, but barely. He seemed to have lost his hat and it looked as if there was bright red blood on his forehead. Perhaps the head-bonker tree had claimed a victim. Neither mount nor rider made the slightest effort to check as they reached the road; the horse never even broke stride as he charged out into the oncoming traffic.
I heard the scream of tires on pavement; what seemed like long seconds later but was just a moment, I heard the loud heavy thud and crash of breaking glass. The car struck the horse and rider straight on and slid to a stop on the verge. Everything was moving in a wild blur. For a second I couldn’t see the horse and then I could.
The dark horse lay absolutely still, right in the middle of the road, a sad, sodden heap. I knew in an instant that he was dead. About the rider I wasn’t so sure. He’d been thrown many feet from the horse and his body, too, lay still on the wet pavement. Cars came to a sliding stop around them. Tires squealed, people emerged from vehicles and waved jackets for flags at oncoming traffic. No one noticed me on the hill behind the tree.
I stared down at the street. People gathered around Justin Roberts. Other people helped the driver of the car that had struck the horse. Someone placed a blanket over the horse’s body. No one ever looked my way.
Slowly, I turned Sunny and let my sweaty, anxious horse make his way up the hill toward home. I kept in the trees and looked back over my shoulder. As far as I could tell, no one down below saw me. I patted Sunny’s neck.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
It was done.
Chapter 24
One week
later, Bret and Lonny sat on our front porch, watching the evening sun light up the ridge across the road. The landmark tree glowed, a golden antler silhouetted against a dark background of pines. Blue raised a margarita glass and held it up.
“Here’s to you, Stormy,” he said.
Bret and Lonny raised their glasses and smiled. I followed suit after a moment.
“Here’s to the ridge,” I said, my eyes on that faraway entity. In this quiet, peaceful moment, it was hard to comprehend that I’d galloped desperately across that same ridge, riding for my life to escape a merciless pursuit. It seemed unbelievable, unreal. My knee still ached, but otherwise life was back to normal.
I stared down the hill to where my little boy was pumping in his swing hung from the big liveoak by the barn. Back and forth, back and forth, in the long, slanted evening light. Somehow the sight reminded me of the ghostly child I’d imagined on the abandoned swingset in the woods. Cole Richardson’s father.
To my relief, Mac had not needed to know about my wild ride, nor that Justin Roberts and his stolen horse had died on the road in front of our property. I had managed to keep that drama from my child, thankfully.
I’d arrived home that evening drenched and shaking to find Mac and Blue happy and eager to tell me about their day at the Boardwalk. I’d hidden my distress as well as I could, attributing it to being caught in the storm and banging my knee on a tree trunk, and we’d all ignored the emergency vehicle sirens that we heard down on the street. It was a common enough sound on the busy road.
Only when Mac was safely occupied had I whispered to Blue a quick summary of what had happened and ducked into the bedroom to call Bret. We’d talked for an hour and at the end of that time Bret had a plan.
“Thank God you managed to talk that detective into driving over here with a search warrant,” I said to Bret, taking a long swallow of my drink.
“Thanks to you,” Bret said. “I told John Green I’d had a reliable tip that Justin had been killed in a car wreck over here, trying to destroy the evidence that tied him to Cole’s murder. And it took me a while, but I convinced him we needed to search Cole’s house on the coast. After that, everything fell into place.”