“What?”
“The vials are in a bag—preserving the fingerprints. The photos place the vials at the scene.” I shook my head. “I just ruled Alexander out, and now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have.”
“Maybe he’s not guilty of murder, but something else entirely different.”
“You mean two separate crimes?”
Josh shrugged. “Maybe.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the map. “I have no idea what this is. You?”
He shook his head, sitting across from me. “No idea. The location he marked doesn’t look familiar.”
The X was in the middle of nowhere. I double-checked, and it wasn’t the area where Golden Equestrian was located. Maybe it was another stable? I had no idea. “Can I take a picture of it?”
“Sure.”
I pulled my phone out and did just that.
This was evidence. I felt sure of it. Chase was here to try and track down answers, and all of this had something to do with his brother’s death.
“The fact that Chase has evidence and now he’s disappeared makes me worry,” Josh said.
“Disappeared?”
Josh twisted his head in confusion. “I thought you knew. That’s why I looked through Chase’s things. I haven’t seen or heard from him since you were abducted.”
My heart panged with concern. “Really?”
Josh nodded. “Really. I’ve tried calling, but he won’t answer his phone.”
I leaned back, letting that sink in.
“There’s one other thing I thought was worth mentioning. The guys at the station were talking about a crime ring. This one particular group has a long list of charges against them. Robberies. Extortion. Assault and battery. Weapons charges. The whole gamut.”
“Okay . . .” What did they have to do with Chase and doping horses and everything else that had happened lately?
He shifted. “There’s a black panel van that’s been connected with the group.”
The color drained from my face. Somehow all of these pieces fit together. I just had no idea how.
* * *
After I left Josh’s place, I picked up Jamie and we started toward Wyndmyer Park, even though we were no longer welcome there. Jamie insisted we needed to go, and I assumed she had a good reason for it.
I didn’t see anyone or any creepy black van following us on our way there. I hoped that meant danger was staying away. I hadn’t had much luck with that lately, though. I was already jumping at every sound and creak or even the possibility of a sound of creaking occurring.
To say I was tightly wound would be an understatement.
When we arrived, Jamie instructed me to park at the back of the lot, well away from the entrance. When I put the car into park, she turned toward me, finally ready to fill me in.
“Jason Williams is meeting us here,” she said.
“Who?” Seriously, of everything she could have told me, I hadn’t expected that announcement.
“Jason Williams. He was the man who talked to us the other day. The one with the crooked teeth who thinks he’s a ladies’ man.”
Yes! How could I forget? “How did you arrange that?”
“Since my online research wasn’t getting me very far, I decided to call him. He did give me his number. Long story short, he said he would meet with us.”
“Is that such a good idea, especially considering everything that has happened lately?”
“Well, apparently he was fired on Saturday, so he has a bone to pick with Wyndmyer. He seems more than willing to spill the beans.”
Just as she finished her sentence, a beat-up truck pulled up beside us. Jason Williams hopped out. He smiled at us, though he didn’t preen as much as before. Perhaps being fired had humbled him.
We stepped out of the car. The sky was overcast, and the breeze seemed to promise rain. I hoped it wasn’t an omen of how this conversation would turn out.
“I know you two are looking for information.” He leaned against his truck. Nope, he still thought he had swagger.
“The well-being of a friend depends on getting the right information,” I told him.
He nodded slowly, a smoky, overblown look in his eyes. “I overheard Winston Kensington talking with someone in the stables. Neither of the men knew I was there.”
“What did they say?” Jamie pressed, crossing her arms and assessing him with her gaze.
“Winston apparently owes someone a lot of money.” Jason enunciated each word carefully and precisely, like he took himself very seriously. “Like, a lot of money. Into the hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
“Why?” I asked.
Jason shrugged. “That wasn’t clear. I think it was to cover up something, though. That’s the impression I had.”
I needed something more specific than that. “Any idea what?”
He raised his chin. “I know some suspicious things have been going on here. Some people think the races have been . . . what would you call it? . . . altered to favor certain horses. If that’s true, Winston could end up in jail. It’s enough to make a man desperate.”
“You mean like Starting Gate Gate?” I raised my eyebrows.
“You’ve heard of it?” He nodded, as if impressed. “Winston has been desperate to sweep it under the rug, but word is leaking. I knew it would.”
“What do you think about it?”
“I think Winston had someone modify the gates so a few opened more slowly. A couple seconds’ disparity can mean the difference in a horse bringing in thousands as winner or lollygagging as loser. Maybe even worse—being sent to the meat factory.”
I frowned at the thought of it. “Who came out ahead because of that deal?”
“A couple of horses. People think horse owners paid big-time to let that happen. Those people aren’t talking. They’ll be stripped of their prize money and titles if it gets out.”
And the plot thickens . . .
“We heard Winston Kensington was out of town,” I added.
“That’s what they say.” Jason shrugged, some type of over-the-top attitude encompassing the action. “I think he ran.”
“Did you see who he was talking to?”
Jason shook his head. “I have no idea. Didn’t recognize the voice.”
“Thank you for sharing that,” Jamie added.
“I don’t have anything to lose.” He paused. “There’s one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Winston’s wife, Peyton, has been acting strangely,” Jason continued. “She trash-talked her ex all the time, and now they’re best buddies. That’s just weird. Something’s up.”
“That is strange,” I concurred. “Any idea why?”
He opened his truck door and climbed inside. “Who knows? I do know this: Peyton Andrews likes to use people to get what she wants. I wouldn’t put that past her now, either. I just don’t know what her angle is.”
His words haunted me after he said good-bye and pulled away.
“Okay, hear me out,” I started, a new theory forming in my head. “What if Peyton called Chase in her hour of need? He feels guilty about the way things ended between them, and feels obligated to help. I know his failed marriage haunts him.”
Jamie nodded, the action growing in intensity with each bob of her head. “Then he hears that Alexander Cartwright is involved, and that gives him even more motivation to step in. He’s never liked the man, and this could give him the opportunity to get some dirt on the man he thinks killed his brother.”
The scenarios continued to play in my head like a reel of black-and-white film from days of old.
“Maybe this was never about getting back with Peyton—although being together could have stirred up old feelings.” I shook my head, unsure about the last part. “I still don’t want to believe it. Peyton is married.”
“I don’t believe it. But suddenly everything is starting to make more sense, yes? From the start this has been about an investigation t
hat ties in with Chase’s past. There’s still a lot we don’t know, but we’re getting closer.”
“I agree.” I decided to push that last thought to the back of my mind. “Let me check that Friend Finder app and see where Chase is now.”
Against my better instincts, I pulled up the app and waited for it to load. When it finally did, I frowned.
This couldn’t be right.
The pit in my stomach grew deeper.
“Anything?” Jamie asked.
I continued to stare at the screen. “Something’s wrong, Jamie. He’s not showing up anywhere.”
“Maybe he turned it off?”
I bit down, my thoughts heavier than hers. “Maybe. Or maybe something happened to him.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
When I walked inside Wyndmyer Park, I spotted Peyton sitting in the stands alone. Crowds lingered by TVs inside, cheering and rooting for their favorite horses as they watched simulcast races.
I stood on the deck in the background and lingered behind a column, watching Peyton. She looked beautiful but troubled, striking me as the type of woman who had no girlfriends and didn’t care. Was Jason right? Was she a manipulator? It was pretty bold to bring your ex around the racetrack owned by your husband.
Every once in a while, she pulled out her phone and stared at the screen. Then she would frown and put it away before staring blankly at the racetrack in front of her. Was she waiting for a call? From Chase or Winston, maybe?
“What do you think she’s doing?” Jamie whispered.
“I have no earthly idea,” I finally whispered. “But I’m tired of hiding. I need to confront Peyton and ask her a few questions.”
“Confront? Is that a good—?”
Before Jamie could talk me out of it, I charged forward. I marched down the aisle and plopped myself into the empty seat beside Peyton. She glanced up from her phone, which she’d pulled out again, and her eyes widened when she recognized me.
“You’re that photographer.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hope you have permission if you’re taking pictures or interviewing any of our employees.”
And here went nothing . . . “No. I mean, yes. That’s what I said. But I’m not.”
Peyton angled her shoulders to get a better look at me. Peyton was no shrinking violet—she obviously liked to confront issues head-on. “What do you want? Do I need to call security?”
I needed to be equally direct. “I’m worried about Chase Dexter, and I hoped you might have some answers for me.”
“Who are you?” Her eyes narrowed even more. She was like the snobby girls in high school, I realized. The kind that Chase had dated. The kind who liked to gloat when they found out I had a crush on a boy who was out of my league.
I considered what to say and decided not to hold back. I really had so little to lose at this point. “I’m Holly.”
She blinked but continued to stare at me. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “His girlfriend?”
I did a double take this time, unsure about how to respond. I didn’t expect her to say that. Maybe I’d expected her to say The poor sap who’s in love with Chase. Thankfully she hadn’t.
“I don’t know what we are anymore,” I admitted. “But I’m worried about him. I do know that.”
She stared at the track again, resting her elbows on her legs and appearing generally burdened. “You’re all he talks about.”
I was all he talked about to his ex-wife whom he was getting back together with? I couldn’t imagine how those conversations went. “Well, that sounds awkward.”
She pulled her chin back and stared at me like I’d just claimed I was Etta James reincarnated. “Why would that be awkward?”
This conversation was not going as I planned. There were obviously a lot of misunderstandings between Peyton and me. “Aren’t you back together with Chase?”
Her jaw went slack and she shook her head. “No. Why would you think that?”
“Why wouldn’t I think that?” My voice rose, though I wished it hadn’t. But my thoughts weren’t that absurd. I’d seen the two of them interacting with my own eyes.
Peyton opened her mouth, then closed it again. She glanced down at her phone once more before letting out a sigh. “This is really a bad time to talk about this.”
“So I’ve heard.” I sat there silently for a moment, patiently waiting to hear what she said next.
“Chase is missing,” Peyton finally said.
I jerked my head toward her, her melancholy voice jolting me more than any amount of panic would. “You mean even you don’t know where he is?”
She nodded. “That’s right. He was supposed to meet me tonight, but he never showed. I don’t know what happened.”
I pushed down my resentment about the secrets between them. There were bigger issues at hand. “Any idea where he might be?”
“No, but I think he’s in trouble and that it’s my fault.”
My heart sped for a moment as possibilities raced through my mind. Trouble? Missing? Maybe this was worse than I thought. “What do you mean?”
Peyton glanced around, her eyes big and perceptive as she looked at the crowd. Finally, her gaze zeroed in on me again.
“I can’t talk about it here,” she whispered. “There’s a restaurant called Callie’s on Wayward and Fifth. Meet me there in an hour, and I’ll explain everything.”
* * *
I sat across from Peyton an hour later at a trendy little restaurant that apparently specialized in every kind of slider imaginable—patty melts, sloppy joes, buffalo chicken, veggie burgers, and even chili dog on a bun. Though the waitress insisted I should try one, I’d declined and opted instead for some sweet tea. I needed the caffeine to keep me alert.
Peyton, on the other hand, had ordered some kind of mixed drink. She didn’t bother to keep it on the table, but instead she’d held it since we’d arrived, sipping from the tiny stirrer nearly as often as she breathed.
Jamie lingered by the door, keeping a lookout in case the men from the van came back. We had to be careful because one slipup and we could both be dead.
In the background, various sporting events played on the overhead TVs, the patrons murmured, and silverware clinked. The smell of fried foods and spicy wings filled the air.
“Someone abducted my husband, Winston,” Peyton said, finishing her drink and clanking the glass on the table. “They’re demanding a ransom, and I asked Chase for his help. These guys said I couldn’t bring the police into this or Winston would die.”
“Come again?” I was trying to process what she said, but it was a lot. And nothing that I expected.
Peyton glanced around again, the action making me wonder if she was being followed also. She lowered her voice and said, “You heard me correctly. My husband is gone. Someone grabbed him, and I haven’t seen him since.”
Suddenly, some of the facts started to make sense. “That’s why you’re telling everyone he’s visiting his mother in Georgia.”
She narrowed her eyes, as if my snooping offended her. Apparently, she’d expected me to come in here totally clueless and without having done any research. Had she underestimated me? Most likely, but I hoped to use that to my advantage.
“Correct,” Peyton said. “He was snatched out of our front yard on his way to work last Sunday. The men who grabbed him left a ransom note and warned me not to call the police or Winston would die. I didn’t know what to do. That’s when I called Chase.”
“Why Chase?”
“I knew if anyone could find him, it was Chase.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I was desperate enough to call the man who’d broken my heart. And now I’m afraid I may have gotten him killed.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I played with my straw, which I still hadn’t put in my tea yet. Instead, I pushed the paper wrapper into an accordion, needing something to occupy my hands and, in essence, my thoughts.
Winston had been abducted. On one hand, things were making more
sense. But, on the other hand, I had a lot more questions.
I locked gazes with Peyton across the table. Her eyes were striking. But were they also calculating? “Why do you think you got Chase killed?”
“He’s disappeared. I haven’t heard from him in two days. I’m afraid he’s done something foolish.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because there’s no other reason for him not to contact me!” Her voice rose in pitch.
I leaned back, trying to keep a cool head. “Why couldn’t Chase tell me any of this? Why was it a secret that he was meeting you?”
Something flashed in her gaze. “I asked him not to tell anyone. Anyone! My husband’s life was on the line, and I knew there were only a few people I could trust. I didn’t want to take any chances. I wouldn’t give Chase any more information until he agreed.”
“I see.” I supposed that made sense. It was a sensitive situation, and Chase probably felt compelled to keep his promise.
She leaned across the table, licking her lips as she assessed me. “So how did you find out? Did he tell you after all? Because I was certain I could trust him.”
I frowned as I remembered the crazy path that had led me to this point. It wasn’t a path I was proud of, but what was done was done. “To be honest, I thought Chase was drinking again. I came here for . . . for an intervention, for lack of a better word. I got more than I bargained for.”
“An intervention?” A slight smile played on Peyton’s lips.
I was glad she found this amusing. My defenses started to rise. “I was worried.”
Her smile slipped, and she laced and unlaced her fingers on the table. “That’s good. He needs someone who has his back. But I assure you that he hasn’t been drinking. I tried to tell him just one or two couldn’t do any harm.”
“For an alcoholic? You have no idea what you’re saying.”
Her face morphed into a scowl.
Random Acts of Malice (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 3) Page 18