Triple Exposure

by Jackie Calhoun

  “They can as long as they don’t thrash around. They twist their intestines that way, and once that happens, they’re goners. Who knows? Maybe they already have.” Meg tugged on Brittle’s lead rope.

  Toward morning, on her second shift with Meg, Nicky asked, “How much longer do we have to do this?”

  “Until they start passing whatever they ate.”

  “Is that going to happen?” Tater staggered at the end of the lead. He stumbled and once more sank with a groan to the cold floor.

  At first light the veterinarian, a small, neat man, entered the barn with Dan behind him. He examined Tater first, looking at his eyes and gums. “He’s in shock.” He listened to the pony’s distended gut. “Nothing moving.” He looked at them. “Has he passed any manure?” They shook their heads in unison and he nodded grimly. “It’s time to make a decision about whether he should suffer anymore.”

  “We used up all the medication,” Meg said dully, continuing her endless trek around the barn. Brittle paused and passed a pile of manure and they stared at it as if it were manna from heaven.

  While Nicky and Beth watched, the veterinarian injected a solution into Tater’s bloodstream, ending his pain and his life. Pressed against the wall, Meg stood with Brittle on the far side of the barn. Dan helped the vet. Natalie chose to stay inside the house.

  It was not horrible to watch. The pony apparently died peacefully and quickly, but Nicky couldn’t stop crying. Beth put a comforting arm around her. She cried harder.

  Exhausted but out of danger, Brittle fared better. The veterinarian said it was a wonder he hadn’t foundered, said the pony would have been crippled by founder. Dan phoned the person who removed dead stock, then left when the vet did.

  Shortly afterwards, Beth drove to her apartment to get ready for work, and Nicky and Meg went into the house together. The warmth released the cold in her, causing her to shiver and her teeth to chatter.

  “I’m calling in sick,” Meg announced. “I need to keep an eye on Brittle.”

  “You can’t watch him every minute,” Natalie said from the doorway, looking as if she had been crying too.

  “Did you see anyone out here yesterday?” Meg asked her.

  “Only Denise. She was looking for you, Meg.”

  Meg looked baffled. “Denise doesn’t know anything about horses. She’s scared of them.”

  Suddenly realizing what a dolt she was, since it hadn’t occurred to her until now that foul play might have been involved, Nicky asked, “Do they do autopsies on horses? Maybe we need to know what they ate.”

  Looking at Nicky with respect, Meg said, “I should have thought of that myself.”

  “I’ll call Dan so he can cancel the meat wagon,” Natalie said, heading toward the phone. “Nicky, you better get Beth’s permission.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The autopsy report told the story. The animals had been fed a sweet feed, which had expanded in their guts—in the pony’s case, proving fatal.

  Now it was Brittle who was lonesome, who ran to the pasture fence whenever anyone was outside, who nickered for company. Listening to him, Nicky ached for the loss of Tater, for knowing that someone had willfully caused his death. Had Brittle been the target? Tater merely the victim? She couldn’t forget how he had collapsed from the pain, his only complaint an occasional grunt.

  Meg, tired and thin, continued a grim watch on Brittle. She hadn’t gone back to Denise, had been forced to leave many of her belongings in the apartment because Denise had changed the locks. Fortunately, she had gotten most of her clothes out.

  Nicky wondered how long Meg would be able to maintain the pace she was keeping. She set her clock so that she would awaken every two hours during the night, left at the last possible minute to get to work on time and came home immediately afterwards. The fun-loving part of her had vanished as it had during Brittle’s disappearance. No longer did she try to seduce Nicky, nor did she seem even vaguely interested in anything but safeguarding her horse.

  The holidays passed in a blur of family get-togethers. January took forever, and now February was halfway over. Nicky always started looking for spring when March arrived, figuring warm weather was finally in sight.

  But this particular day looked like winter would never end—gray, windy, dismally cold, no sign of green anywhere. She stood by the kitchen window, sipping coffee and watching Meg work out by the barn.

  “What are you thinking, sweetie?” Beth asked from the table. They alternated weeknights between the apartment and the farm.

  “I’m tired of the cold.”

  “Maybe next year we can take some vacation time and go south for a week or two.”

  Nicky turned and forced a smile. “That would be nice.”

  “You have a wedding to photograph this weekend?”

  She nodded. “What are you going to do?”

  “Watch Matt swim or something.”

  “He’s the most organized kid I ever knew. What happened to free play?”

  “He likes organized sports,” Beth said. “Is Meg going to help you?”

  “You ought to know better. Meg never leaves Brittle, if she can help it.”

  Beth wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and gazed at Nicky. “You’re not happy with our arrangement, are you?”

  Heart thudding, Nicky only shook her head and looked away. She felt restless and entangled, but she couldn’t tell Beth. She was cowardly, she knew. Toward the end of the week she always looked forward to the weekend when she could spend time alone with Meg. But by the time Mondays rolled around, she was again missing Beth. She didn’t understand her ambivalence toward the two of them.

  Beth broke into her thoughts, “Someday we’ll live together.”

  Nicky shrugged, helpless to explain her feelings. She could see Meg dumping feed into Brittle’s tub, opening the gate to the pasture. Denise had been over yesterday evening, as she had every night for at least the past month, and before that she had called every day since Tater’s death. Denise was either cajoling or attacking. It all exhausted Nicky, and she wondered why Meg put up with her angry appearances.

  “You’re just a fountain of conversation this morning, sweetie. Something on your mind?”

  Meg was now coming toward the house, her head down, shoulders forward. Depressed, Nicky thought.

  “Nope.” She moved away from the window as the door opened. Frigid air rushed into the room.

  When Beth was ready to leave for work, Meg looked up from her place at the table. “How do you like working with all those women?”

  “I love it.” Beth moved toward the door, briefcase in hand, casually elegant with her London Fog over a pinstriped, worsted wool suit.

  Like my mother, Nicky thought. Was that what had attracted her to Beth? Cold air once more swept into the kitchen with Beth’s departure.

  “You must be on top of the world, Nicky. Everything’s working out for you.” Meg sounded as glum as she looked. She stared into the blackness of her coffee.

  “You’re running out of steam. You know that, don’t you? Burning the candle at both ends.”

  Meg’s gray eyes cleared. “And you’re full of clichés.”

  Nicky shrugged. “Well, they fit. Look, life should center around more than a horse’s welfare and a harassing ex-lover.” She gave Meg an appraising look and asked the question that had been bothering her for months: “Where was Denise the night Tater died? Did you ever ask her?”

  “I’ve got to get ready for work.” Meg glared at Nicky before leaving the room. “I told you, Denise doesn’t know anything about horses.”

  Nicky jumped up and followed her. “I hate what’s happening to you.” Then she quietly admitted, “I miss the old you.”

  Meg talked over her shoulder. “Whoever gave the horses that moldy sweet feed probably kidnapped Brittle. Denise was with us when that happened.”

  Nicky persisted, “Someone’s been turning off the camera out by the barn. You and Beth and Natalie and D
an are the only ones who know it’s there.” She had set up a hidden video camera the day after Tater’s death.

  Shrugging, Meg turned away. “It probably turns itself off when the tape is full.”

  “I change it every six hours. Why do you turn it off, Meg?”

  “Don’t you get tired of looking at that tape?”

  Actually, she hadn’t been looking at it. She had watched it for a few weeks after first installing the camera. Then, after falling asleep while viewing the videocassette, she decided to scan it only if something suspicious happened. Otherwise, she would just tape over the previous six hours. “Do you want me to take it down?”

  Meg stood against the bathroom door frame, chewing on her lower lip and frowning. “It’s your camera. It’s your barn. Do what you want.”

  “You still haven’t told me why.” Standing close to Meg, she became aware of her odor—the freshness of her skin and hair, the faint smell of cologne, even the trace of horse wafting from her clothes.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Meg said flatly. “I’ve got to shower now.”

  Nicky grabbed her arm. “Try me.”

  Meg looked at the restraining hand before lifting her gaze to meet Nicky’s. Her eyes narrowed and clouded. “I don’t want to know. Would you want to think that of Beth?”

  “Beth wouldn’t do that.” She released Meg’s arm.

  Clattering down the stairs, Natalie headed past them toward the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

  Nicky trailed after her sister. “I didn’t even know you were here last night. I haven’t seen you for days.”

  “I came in early this morning to study, then fell asleep again.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and popped two pieces of bread into the toaster. She gave Nicky a speculative look. “You two having a disagreement?”

  Feeling tired, Nicky rubbed the back of her neck. “Meg’s been turning off the camera out by the barn.”

  “I could have told you that,” Natalie said with raised eyebrows.

  “Why didn’t you?” Nicky snapped.

  “It wasn’t any of my business.” She spread peanut butter on the toasted bread and took a bite. “I’ve been thinking about it, though. She doesn’t want to believe Denise did it, does she?”

  “Do you think she did?”

  Natalie finished eating the toast and licked her fingers. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  Nicky realized that she wanted Denise to be guilty, if only to finally free Meg of her. “I don’t know either.”

  March blew itself out in a gale. Eight inches of snow fell, covering bits of promising green. Nicky had gone to Margo’s after work to collect a check and show her her latest work. Now she crept along the country roads toward her farm, hoping she wouldn’t end up in a ditch. It reminded her of the storm the day Beth moved into her apartment.

  She thought of Beth, her recurring bouts with sadness and guilt. During the first weeks after Beth left Mark, Nicky had thought she might capitulate and go back to him. She told Nicky the only thing that kept her from doing that was knowing that if she did she could never leave again, at least not until Matt grew up. Tonight Beth was having dinner with one of her firm’s partners, Nancy Brown, with whom she was working on a case.

  She wanted to ask Meg when she was going to start showing Brittle again. That had bothered her since Janet Larson had called to ask her if she was going to be at a March show. She had been surprised to learn that the show season had started. Janet had told her that there were shows as early as January at indoor arenas.

  The road had deteriorated to two narrow lanes. Drifts rose on either side of her where open fields stretched away in both directions. The wind, barreling out of the northwest, rocked the truck. She wondered if she would be able to get into her driveway, if she’d be lucky enough to get that far.

  But an hour after leaving the Fox Cities, a drive which normally took twenty minutes, she drove slowly toward the barn between ridges of freshly plowed snow and silently thanked Dan for taking the time and making the effort to dig her out.

  The wind hit her with tremendous force as she struggled toward the house, pausing only briefly by Brittle’s lot to make sure the gate was closed. She assumed he was shut in his stall, and the wind pushed her in the direction of the back door.

  Winter in Wisconsin was an adventure, she thought as she pulled the storm door closed behind her. Scrappy waited just inside, and she patted him as he danced his welcome. The warmth of the house enclosed her, giving her back the breath that the cold and wind had snatched from her. She loved the snow, the excitement of a storm, the coziness of being inside while the elements raged outside.

  She had parked next to the Rabbit, buried under several inches of snow, recognizing it by its shape. Only the stove light was on and she pressed the flashing red button on the answering machine. Natalie told her that she was at Dan’s, that if she needed either of them to give a call. Doreen said they had a fiftieth wedding anniversary party to film a week from Friday evening. Margo called to tell her one of the prints she had just brought in had already been sold to a neighbor. Lastly, her mother spoke from Florida, where she and Nicky’s father had gone to escape storms such as this one. After rewinding the tape, she went in search of Meg.

  “Nicky, come on in. Don’t go sneaking out on me.”

  She had been closing Meg’s bedroom door quietly behind her, thinking her asleep. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” She stood uncertainly in the doorway.

  Meg patted the blanket, urging her to sit. “What a storm, huh? Dan was plowing the driveway when I got here. He put Brittle in the barn. You have trouble getting home?”

  “Some.” Nicky lowered herself gingerly onto the bed and Meg shifted her weight to accommodate her. “Looks like we’re snowed in.”

  Meg smiled with some of her old mischievousness. “Alone, together.”

  “You didn’t hear any of those calls on the machine?”

  “I listened. I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Where’s Beth tonight? With Matt?”

  “With a colleague.”

  The phone interrupted their conversation and they listened to the four rings, to Nicky’s taped message, to Denise’s voice. Nicky sat in frozen silence, watching Meg’s expression.

  Meg rose on her elbows, the blankets falling to her waist. She was fully dressed in a white, work uniform.

  “If you’re there, Meg, answer the phone. I know you’re not at work, because I called. I just want to know if you’re safe. Give me a ring.”

  She sounded like a perfectly normal person making a reasonable request. Nicky sometimes wondered whether Denise was a little crazy. When Meg fell back on the bed and turned her head toward the wall, Nicky got up. But as she turned away, she felt a hand close over her wrist.

  “She spoils everything.”

  “She has a talent for that.” Nicky looked down at her, at the fair hair fanned out on the pillow. Even as she told herself not to do it, she found herself back on the bed, taking Meg in her arms.

  Nicky didn’t pause to wonder about the passion that flared between them. They struggled to remove their clothes without getting out of bed, throwing the discarded items in a heap on the floor. Moving on top of Meg, she began the circular pelvic thrust that excited her so. Their kisses, at first just a soft touch of lips, grew hot and deep and wet.

  Then Meg rolled her until they lay side by side, face to face. Running a hand over Nicky’s bare length, she slid cool fingers into the tangle of hair and raised a knee to push them inside.

  Nicky, who had been about to reach for Meg, paused to enjoy the sensation. She sucked in air as Meg slowly withdrew the fingers and began a gentle stroking. An exquisite ache tugged in her groin, stirring her into motion again. She looked into Meg’s gray eyes, now hooded with desire, her mouth twisted in a sensual smile. Smiling in response, she closed her eyes and arched her back.

  To stave off climax, she covered the space between Meg’s legs with her
hand and gently worked her fingertips through the damp hair. “You are so wet,” she murmured, sighing as she fingered the sensitive leaves and folds of flesh.

  Their free arms held them close to each other, and Meg’s throaty laugh filled her ear. “So are you.”

  “God, who wouldn’t be.” The words came out sounding like a moan.

  Raising herself on an elbow, Meg bent to take Nicky’s nipple in her mouth and Nicky fell back once more. She felt the tugging at her breast in her groin, and when Meg thrust inside her, she raised her hips in response.

  But she couldn’t resist asking, “Why aren’t you showing?”

  “What?”

  “Janet told me the shows started months ago. You haven’t gone to any.” Why was she pointing this out now, she wondered as the pleasurable ache lost its throb.

  Sighing, Meg lifted her head from Nicky’s breast and looked at her. “Can’t we talk about this later?”

  But Nicky had experienced a sudden flash of insight. That was why she had to say, “You don’t want to do too well, do you?”

  “It’s been too damn cold to show. Brittle’s still got a winter coat. Those people who show in the winter keep their horses blanketed and under lights.” Meg rolled onto her back.

  “But I should be at those shows. Why didn’t you say anything?” Nicky asked.

  “I didn’t think of it.”

  “You have to go with me anyway, even if you don’t take Brittle.”

  Meg turned to face her, tucking her knees up in a fetal position. Idly she stroked Nicky. “Want to finish this?”

  Nicky met her gaze with a crooked smile. “I’d be a liar if I said no.”

  “Say please, then.”

  “How was your weekend? Your dinner Friday night?” Nicky greeted Beth as they walked toward the farmhouse on Monday afternoon. It was unusual for them to arrive home together.

  “All right. We’re having another dinner meeting tomorrow night. Maybe you’d rather stay here than wait at my apartment for me.”