Whirlwind

by Alison Hart

  Jas flung her arms around the mare’s neck. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered into the mane tamer. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

  Jas pulled back, wanting to examine every inch of the mare. Whirlwind snuffled her wet cheek, and Jas burst into teary laughter—of joy and relief. “I can’t believe I finally found you!”

  “That’s your proof?” she heard Mrs. Pavia protest. “As far as we know, Ms. Baylor, you hired some actress to stage this touching reunion.”

  “Oh? Then who coached the horse?” Marietta asked. “It’s obvious that this horse and Jas know each other.”

  Mrs. Pavia swept into the stall. Grabbing hold of the halter, she jerked the mare away from Jas. Furious, Jas curled her fingers into fists. There was no way this woman was keeping her from her horse. She stepped forward, shaking with anger, but Marietta touched her shoulder. “Let me handle this.”

  “I paid two hundred fifty thousand dollars for this horse from a reputable dealer,” Mrs. Pavia ranted. “There’s no way I’m letting you take her.”

  “Caveat emptor,” Marietta murmured as she pulled her BlackBerry from her purse. “Gerald, do you have pad and paper? I want to make sure that Mrs. Pavia has the phone number for Hugh Robicheaux. He’s the man in Virginia who fraudulently sold Whirlwind to Scott Black, your so-called reputable dealer.”

  “What am I supposed to do with that information?” Mrs. Pavia demanded.

  “Give it to your lawyers.” Marietta aimed an unladylike look at the other woman. “Now please let go of Whirlwind.”

  “Oh, oh,” Mrs. Pavia sputtered as she waded in her heels through the shavings, giving the investigator a wide berth. She stopped in front of the trainer. “Gerald! Do something.”

  As soon as the woman let go of the halter, Whirlwind spun toward Jas. The mare’s eyes were white-rimmed with fear. Jas slipped one arm over the horse’s withers, the other around her neck. “I’ll never let you go, ever again,” she promised.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pavia,” a red-faced Gerald was saying. “When Ms. Baylor came yesterday, she brought quite a bit of evidence. So I was pretty sure Early Star was the horse she was looking for.” Unable to hide a smile, he gestured toward Jas and Whirlwind. “Horses don’t lie, so it’s obvious these two belong to each other.”

  “You’ll all be hearing from my lawyers.” Mrs. Pavia shook her finger at Gerald and then Marietta before marching up the aisle.

  “Excuse my client,” Gerald said. “She does love this horse.”

  Love this horse? Jas snorted. “Has she ever groomed Whirlwind? Patted her? Fed her a carrot?”

  Mr. Fordham seemed confused by the questions. Jas waved him away. “Never mind.” Without asking permission, she began unfastening the Velcro straps of the mane tamer and then the tail wrap. As she worked, smoothing Whirlwind’s coat, soothing her with soft words, she let go of her anger, her fears. She’d found Whirlwind. Let Mrs. Pavia bring an army of lawyers. Nothing was going to take her away from Jas again.

  “Mrs. Pavia discovered the mare herself, through a friend who’d used Scott Black,” Gerald said as if that explained the woman’s behavior. Leaning against the doorjamb, Marietta listened. Jas started on the fly sheet. Seeing Whirlwind all fancied up was too much.

  “When she took me to see Early Star, I was wary because I’d never dealt with Mr. Black before,” he continued. “But when I saw how fabulous the mare was, I urged Mrs. Pavia to buy her on the spot.”

  “Where did you see the mare?” Marietta asked.

  “At a barn in Lexington. We flew to Roanoke, then drove to Lexington. Black met us at a farm—I think it was called Rolling Acres. We had the mare vanned to Florida the next day.”

  “No vet check?”

  “We had one done here in Florida—she vetted clean. Black gave us a week’s trial with the horse, which I requested. As Mrs. Pavia said, everything seemed to be in order.” He shrugged. “I never suspected she wasn’t the horse on the registration.”

  “The real Early Star was murdered,” Jas said flatly.

  Gerald started. “What?”

  “Hugh, Whirlwind’s owner, pois—”

  “Jas.” Marietta shot her a look of warning, then said to the trainer, “The lawyer from the insurance company is faxing documents so we can take possession of Whirlwind. A Florida judge will have to approve seizure and transport of the horse, so it may take a day or two. We want this all to be aboveboard.”

  “Fine.” Gerald nervously checked his watch. “In the meantime, I have to leave. The horses are fed, watered, and safe here in the barn. The hurricane’s supposed to hit early tonight, and my condo needs to be secured. I suggest you ladies get to a hotel as soon as possible.”

  “I’ve already made reservations at the Marriot Inn. They assured me it has weathered many a storm.”

  “I’m not leaving Whirlwind,” Jas said.

  The two stopping talking to stare at her.

  “I’m sleeping here. You must have a cot for horse shows.”

  “Yes, we do,” Gerald said. “Stashed in the supply room. You’re welcome to stay. The barn is hurricane proof, but I had to turn off the motion-detecting security system. It would be going off all night because of flying branches and debris.”

  Marietta frowned. “Jas, I’m going with Gerald to the office to check for a fax. We’ll talk about you staying here when I get back.” She sounded like a disapproving parent.

  “Fine.” But I won’t change my mind. Jas unbuckled the fly sheet, slid it off Whirlwind, and ran her palm over the mare’s sleek coat. Laying her cheek against her shoulder, Jas sighed with happiness. Finally, she stepped back and, hands on hips, ran her gaze from the mare’s ears to her tail. She wanted to drink in every inch.

  Turning her head, Whirlwind looked at her, her eyes deep and brown. Jas bit her lip, trying not to cry again. It was hard to believe this was real.

  “And no matter what Marietta says, I’m not leaving you,” Jas said. “Which means I better figure out where to sleep.”

  Picking up the fly sheet and wraps, she walked down to the supply room. She found a cot, a pillow, flashlights, and blankets along with every type of grooming device. What she didn’t find was evidence that the horses were treated as anything except commodities. There were no carrots tucked away in buckets or goofy names like Buster and Pal tacked on the stall doors. There were no paisley helmet covers or drawings of horses with stick legs and huge heads. Actually, there were no signs of kids at all. No signs of horse-crazy riders who adored their mounts no matter how furry or swaybacked.

  Grabbing up a grooming tote, Jas hurried back to Whirlwind’s stall. “I’ve got to get you out of this place,” she said when she unlatched the door. She set down the tote and pulled out a soft brush. Not that the mare was dirty. Far from it—she was too clean. It was Jas who needed grooming “therapy.” She’d found Whirlwind. The mare was fine. They were taking her back to Virginia. Still, butterflies fluttered in Jas’s stomach. She couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that Hugh was out there.

  “Good news!” Marietta appeared in the doorway. “Scott Black has agreed to testify against Hugh in return for immunity.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” Jas stopped brushing. “Before I jump up and down with joy?”

  “It means we’ve got Hugh. Not only will Scott Black testify that Hugh contacted him about selling a Thoroughbred named Early Star, but he can also link Hugh to Tommy Looney, who delivered the mare to Black’s farm in Lexington.” Marietta’s face broke into a smile of triumph. “Most importantly, Jas, it means that Hugh Robicheaux will be behind bars for a looong time.”

  Twenty-one

  “YES!” JAS AND MARIETTA CHEERED AND SLAPPED palms as if their underdog team had finally won. Jas ruffled Whirlwind’s mane, scratching her favorite spot behind her ears. “Did you hear that?” she told the mare. “Hugh the horse killer is finally getting what he deserves.” The mare wiggled her lips. “Look, she’s as h
appy as we are.”

  “She’ll be happier when we get her out of this prison.” Marietta grimaced at the bars on the door. “I’ve been here three times now. Never once have I seen a horse out of its stall.”

  “You noticed, too. Creepy, huh?” Jas continued brushing. “If Hugh goes to jail, will we be able to take Whirlwind to Second Chance Farm? I want her to experience life as a real horse.”

  “Not right away. Our court system moves as slow as molasses.” Marietta pulled her cell phone from her purse. “Let’s make sure the lawyers have an airtight case against Hugh first. Then he’ll have no reason to come after Whirlwind. I’m going to take some photos with my phone and e-mail them to the lawyer’s office. Can you lead her into the aisle where there’s more light?”

  For the next ten minutes, Jas helped Marietta photograph Whirlwind. The investigator snapped pictures of the mare’s head and white stripe, her stockings, and the scar under her forelock. “These will be dated so Hugh can’t claim someone took them last spring.”

  “Instead he can claim we painted a horse to look like Whirlwind.”

  Marietta arched one brow. “He can claim all he wants. I had Gerald fax his statement before he left. Hugh’s arrogant, but there’s no way he can accuse all of us of being crooks.”

  Just then, rat-a-tat-tats sounded on the roof of the barn. “Rain,” Jas said. “You better hurry and get to the hotel, Marietta.”

  “Hotel? Like I’m going to let you stay here alone? Not gonna happen, honey. There’s a comfortable sofa in the office. However, I will need to borrow some of those blankets you found.”

  “You don’t have to stay here,” Jas protested. “I’m perfectly capable …”

  Marietta raised her hand. “I know you are, sweetheart. You’ve had to handle a lot this summer. For a kid of almost fourteen, you’ve done incredibly well. But quit arguing and accept the fact that I’m staying here, too.” She smiled. “Hey, I don’t want to leave Whirlwind, either. This lady wasn’t easy to find.”

  “Thank you, Marietta. For finding her.”

  “My pleasure.” Marietta snapped her phone shut. “Photos done and sent.” Overhead, the tapping changed to drumming. Outside, the wind rattled the barn’s high double doors at each end of the aisle. Inside, the temperature dropped. “Now let’s drag out those blankets and shut off those fans. It’s going to be a chilly night.”

  Clicking on a flashlight, Jas checked her wrist-watch. Eleven o’clock. She rolled over on the cot that she’d placed in front of Whirlwind’s open door. Except for one blanket beneath her, there wasn’t much padding, and she couldn’t get comfortable. Not that she could’ve slept with all the racket.

  The rain pelted the roof, sounding as sharp as hail. The wind battered the end doors, which strained at their latches. The electricity had gone out, so the closed-up barn was dark, except for two emergency lights. Yet, beneath the furious sounds of the storm, Jas heard something else: snorts, snuffles, whinnies. The horses were talking to each other.

  Lacing her fingers behind her head, she listened. She remembered reading how prisoners of war, held in isolation, had communicated by knocking on the walls. It seemed as if the horses had created their own system despite all Gerald’s work to keep them separated. She wondered what they were saying. Were they afraid of the storm? Did they hate being trapped alone behind barred walls? Were they sending calming and encouraging messages?

  Sitting up, she aimed a flashlight into Whirlwind’s stall. Instantly, the mare’s ears pricked. “You’re wide awake, too,” Jas said when she came over. “I was too excited to sleep. Plus, I never want to take my eyes off you.” Whirlwind nibbled Jas’s hair, making her laugh. “Maybe a walk would help us both. We could visit the other horses. Reassure them that it will be okay.”

  Standing, Jas pushed the cot to the side. Then she hooked a lead line to Whirlwind’s leather halter. EARLY STAR was written on the metal name plate. Jas wished she could get rid of the halter, but she hadn’t thought to bring one to replace it.

  Whirlwind eagerly strode into the aisle. They walked up and down, stretching their legs. Lightning flashed through a row of skylights overhead, illuminating a path. Jas tried to tune out the sounds of the hurricane. She hummed a country song, realizing it was one of Chase’s favorites.

  Since arriving at the farm, Jas had forgotten all about him. Now she longed for him to be here. Not only did she want to share her happiness with him, but he’d also change the storm from terrifying to an adventure. Plus, now that she’d found Whirlwind, Jas knew for sure there was room in her heart for a cute goof of a guy like Chase. She hoped that when she got back to Virginia, he would still care enough to try again. And this time, she’d put everything into their relationship.

  “I can’t wait to get you back to Second Chance Farm. I want to introduce you to Miss Hahn, Dr. Danvers, and Chase. You’ll like him as much as I do. Then there’s Shadow. I don’t know if you’ll like him. He’s kind of pushy—”

  A sudden bang made her jump. The wind was shaking the left side of the double door so hard, the latch had broken. With a shriek of metal, the door ripped from its track and began flapping like a bird’s wing. Rain streamed into the opening.

  Jas shuddered. There was no way she could close it. She’d better check to make sure the horses nearest the door were safe.

  “Let’s visit some of your friends.” She led Whirlwind toward the end, stopping in front of the end stall. The wind whistled ominously through the broken door, and rain splattered the aisle floor, but the horse, aside from nerves, appeared okay.

  A crash came from the office, then the tinkle of glass, startling Jas. Marietta, belted into her raincoat, flew out the tack room door and down the aisle, punching numbers into her cell phone. “The shutter blew right off the office window,” she told Jas. “Rain’s pouring in. I’m calling Gerald to report it.”

  “Tell him the barn door’s broken, too. So much for ‘hurricane proof.’”

  Marietta nodded, her attention on the phone.

  “I’ll help you get the shutter back up.”

  “Or at least move furniture and files out of the way so they don’t get too soaked.” Marietta snapped her phone shut. “No signal. I’m going to drive down the lane to the road and see if I can pick up service.”

  “In this weather?”

  “It’s ten feet to the car. Don’t worry, if it’s too wild, I won’t try it.” She patted her hair, still smooth after sleeping on the sofa. “After all, I don’t want to wreck my makeup and my hairdo.” She took off again for the tack room.

  “Let’s make sure the horses are all right and then put you back in the stall,” Jas said to Whirlwind. Slowly, she led her down the long aisle, pausing to peer in at each horse. Since the door had blown open, the sounds of the storm had increased in intensity. Some of the horses were weaving, pawing, or bobbing their heads. Jas wished she could go in each stall to calm them with massage. Instead, she stood outside each door, soothing them with words.

  “Maybe I can find some hay. Chewing might distract you guys,” Jas said when she reached Whirlwind’s stall. She turned to lead her into the stall the same time a shadowy figure stepped from it. Jas froze. Lightning crackled overhead. Hugh.

  A scream of horror rose in her throat. Hugh grabbed the lead line with one hand and Jas’s wrist with the other. Before she could react, he hurled her into the stall so hard she slammed into the far wall. Dazed, she gulped air before leaping to her feet. She flew toward the door, but he slammed it shut and bolted it.

  “Let me out!” She threw her shoulder against it, but it was built to withstand a thousand pounds of horse, and she bounced off. Falling backward, she landed hard on her side.

  Hugh leered at her through the bars. He wore a yellow ascot and tweed jacket as if off to a foxhunting breakfast. “Thank you for being so easy to subdue, Jas,” he said, purring the words in his gentleman’s voice. His hair and the shoulders of his jacket were wet, as if he’d just run in from the sto
rm.

  For a moment, Jas stared at him in disbelief. How had he snuck inside without her seeing him? Then she jumped to her feet. “You horse-murdering—” she spat as she flung herself again at the door. Grabbing the bars, she shook them, repeating, “Let me out!”

  Hugh made a tsking noise. “All this fuss won’t do you any good. I already tested the stall. You’re as secure as if you were in a jail cell.”

  “Where you should be!”

  “Oh? And who’s going to put me there? You?” His laugh was so smug Jas wanted to spit at him through the bars.

  “How did you know I was here?” she spat out instead.

  “I always knew where Whirlwind was. It was just a matter of keeping her whereabouts a secret from you—and the insurance company.”

  “How’d you know we’d found her?” she demanded. “Lucy?”

  “Oh, no. Your demise is due to my sweet aunt.”

  Jas stared at him, not understanding.

  “You know, the ever-so-helpful, slightly dotty Mrs. Quincey?”

  Jas’s stomach dropped. “She spied on me for you?”

  “Nothing that dramatic. Aunt Beatrice has a heart of gold, but she also has a tongue easily loosened by a glass of sherry. When she mentioned you were flying to Florida to see your mother, I knew what was really happening.”

  Jas growled deep in her throat, furious for being so easily duped. Even when she’d told Chase her suspicions about Mrs. Quincey, it had sounded ludicrous.

  “It was so sweet when dear Auntie moved to Stanford to live closer to her darling nephew,” he went on. “And when she conveniently broke her hip, I made sure she recouped in the same nursing home as your grandfather. Then all it took was a little bribe to make sure the two were introduced, and a match was made in heaven.” He chuckled nastily. “For me at least.”

  Jas wanted to strangle Hugh. Instead, she squeezed the bars so hard her fingers hurt. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced toward the tack room door. If she could keep stalling, Marietta would be …

  “Don’t expect the fearless Detective Baylor to rescue you,” Hugh said.