"But if I talked about how she was, some people would blame her for what happened. You know, some people say a girl's asking for it just because she needs men to like her."
Libby stopped tapping her foot. His logic made sense. Maybe he really had been protecting Della with his silence—not himself.
Maybe he was a good guy after all.
Yeah, right. And the Easter Bunny and Santa were on their way to shower her with pixie dust. She tossed her hair and turned away, pretending to be absorbed in plumping the pillows on the sofa. Luke had kept the relationship secret, and even if it was entirely innocent, that secrecy made him unworthy of her trust. That was the bottom line, and nothing could change it.
"Besides, I was embarrassed," he said. "What would you have thought of me if I'd told you some pretty six teen-year-old was hot for me? You would have thought I was some kind of delusional pedophile or something."
He had a point there, but she wasn't about to admit it. Besides, there was the phone call.
"So why did you call her?"
"Call who?" He looked genuinely puzzled.
"Brandy. Why did you call her and tell her not to talk about Della?"
"I didn't. I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
"Well, you saw her number on my board, and you recognized it," she said. "And you were the only one who knew we were going."
"Really? Nobody else knew?"
She shook her head.
"Cash didn't tell anybody?"
He had a point there. Maybe Cash had said some thing—to one of his deputies, or a friend. She slumped her shoulders, the fight flowing out of her, relief flood ing in. It might not have been Luke. It might have been somebody else.
He might be telling the truth about the phone call. But still, he'd hidden his relationship with Della. He hadn't been honest with her.
She couldn't let this go. She couldn't give him her trust.
"Well, Cash will be asking you some questions about her," she said. "He was really surprised to hear she'd spent so much time at your place."
"I don't know why," Luke said. "It's not like he didn't know."
Libby shook her head. "He had no idea."
"That's not true," Luke said. "He's lying."
Libby threw her hands in the air and spun away from him. "Of course he is. That's what men do. They lie. Look, just get out, okay? I've had enough. I don't know what ever made me think you might be any different from the rest."
"I'm not lying, Libby."
"Not now," she said. "But you did. And you will."
"I never told you I didn't know her, Libby. I didn't lie. I just—I just didn't tell you, that's all."
"Well, that's enough," Libby said. "Remember that first promise you made me?"
He looked confused.
"The one where you said you'd give me background on the case?"
He nodded.
"Well, you brought me those clippings, the stuff ev erybody knew, right out of the paper, but you didn't tell me you knew her. You didn't tell me she'd hit on you, or whatever it is you're claiming. That's background, Luke. That's what I needed. You broke your promise."
He sighed. "Okay. I see your point. But can we get over this?" He stepped toward her with slow, cautious moves, as if she was a fractious pony he didn't want to spook. "What we have—we'll never find it again. Not with anyone else."
She shook her head and folded her arms over her chest.
"Are you telling me yesterday didn't mean anything to you? Are you going to let something like that go be cause I forgot to mention one little thing?"
"It's not a little thing, Luke." She folded her arms over her chest. "Not little at all. So just go, okay? Go."
He looked at her a long time, as if he was searching her eyes for forgiveness. She stared back, cold and hard, and told herself she was glad when he finally walked out without a word.
Chapter 42
MORNING CAME WAY TOO SOON. LIBBY HAD SPENT THE night tossing and turning, wondering if Luke was telling the truth about Della.
Slipping out of her T-shirt and into the shower, she wondered why it mattered so much. Even if Luke's story was true, he'd kept important information from her. He'd known Della—known her well—and he'd never told her. That was a deal-breaker, right? So why did she care what his reasons were?
She cranked the water on, closed her eyes, and let the spray spatter her face. Why did she care? Because— because she loved him.
And being Libby Brown, the inimitable, idiotic Libby Brown, she'd forgive him.
This relationship was following all her old patterns. It felt like she was walking down an old familiar road, enjoy ing all the lovely landmarks along the way even though she knew the journey ended in a heaving swamp of gurgling misery. She always gave her heart too soon, and once given it was gone—gone for good, for better or for worse. And with the guys she picked, it was always for worse.
Look at Cash. She'd known better than to date him, of course, and he'd never held a shred of her heart, but she'd been fool enough to follow him into his barn last night—and he'd reminded her, very effectively, that men were not to be trusted. Cranking the shower up as hot as it would go, she lathered up a loofah and scrubbed away the soiled feeling that lingered from his touch.
Don't think about it, she told herself. Think about something else. The baby horses. She remembered the friendly one dashing across the paddock, his hooves flashing in the sun. He moved so fast, so gracefully. It was like ballet. Like…
Like twinkle-toes.
Larissa's description of Paso Fino's came back to her in a rush. "Gaited" means they move their legs differ ently from other horses, she'd said. My husband calls my Paso gelding "Twinkle-toes."
Maybe the foal had Paso blood in him. She was no expert, but she'd never seen a horse move like that.
And Quantum clearly was no Paso Fino. Matter of fact, Quantum wasn't much of anything. She remem bered the stallion's bullet-shaped head, his concave neck, his short legs. The foal had looked like a much better horse, even to her untrained eyes.
She remembered what Cash had said. Everybody laughed when I bought him, said I didn't know what I was doing. But I knew he'd breed me winners.
What if Quantum wasn't a winner? What if Cash had been wrong? Would a guy like him admit his mistake, laugh about it, tell his buddies they were right?
Never. Not with an ego like his.
She slipped into shorts and a T-shirt, then tossed Luke's jacket over her shoulders. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she powered up her laptop. A few pokes at the Internet brought up a video of a Paso Fino exhibi tion, showing the unique Paso gait.
It matched the foal's exactly.
She felt a jolt of recognition, followed by a weird mixture of triumph and fear. Triumph that she'd caught Cash in a lie and fear of what that realization meant. She hopped up and paced the kitchen. Ivan watched her like a spectator at a tennis match, his eyes following her from one end of the room to the other.
"What do you think, buddy?" she said to him. "Does the sheriff have a secret?"
He had a secret, all right. The secret was that he'd damn near raped her. She couldn't do anything about that. Without a witness, or some kind of proof, she'd never be able to expose him for what he really was.
But if he'd done something else… something worse…
"Maybe I should go out there," she said, still talking to the dog. "Do him a big favor, and let the Verminators clean out that barn. He's at that law enforcement thing—he'll be gone all day." She tapped her chin with one finger. "All day. I'd have plenty of time to check a few things out."
She turned to Penny, who was lounging on the sofa. "What do you think, girl? Wanna catch some mice?"
Penny leapt off the sofa and ran to her, jumping up and down, reacting to the excitement in her voice.
Ivan strolled up behind them and whined. She'd feel safer if she took him along, but someone had to guard the home front. Crazy Mike was still on the loose,
and she didn't want to come home to find the guy hiding under her bed or crouching in her closet.
"No, boy," she said. "You have to stay. You have to be the watchdog. Sorry, old buddy." He hung his head and shambled off, lowering himself onto the worn floor boards with a sigh and a sorrowful glance her way.
The phone rang, and the dogs joined in, barking along. Libby hollered at them to quit and picked it up.
"Hey," said Luke's voice.
"Hey," she said. She didn't know what else to say. The issue with Cash's horses had pushed the argument with Luke far into the background. Somehow, what Luke had done seemed far less earthshaking in the light of today's discoveries.
He cleared his throat. "I called—I don't know why I called, except you're mad at me and I'm miserable and…" There was a long silence. "And I love you. And I want a second chance."
She sighed. What could she say?
"I should have told you about Della. But when we first started talking about her, I didn't know you that well. I just knew you wanted to do a story on her, and I was afraid if you knew how she was, you'd put it in the paper or something. And then by the time I knew you wouldn't do that, it was too late. I couldn't find a way to bring it up. I know I should have. I know I messed up. Let me make it up to you. Full disclosure, okay? From now on."
It all made sense. She could see why he'd hidden Della's promiscuity in the first place, and she could see how hard it would have been to bring it up later.
"We'll work it out, Luke," she said. "Just give me a little time."
"Okay," he said. "How 'bout an hour? I miss you like crazy."
His voice was low and husky. It sent a thrill rico cheting through her body, lighting up every place he'd touched, reminding her of just how good his hands felt, his lips, his…
"Maybe later," she said. "I'm busy this morning."
"What are you doing?"
She didn't want to tell him she was going to Cash's, but what if he found out? Wouldn't that be just as bad as him keeping his… acquaintance with Della a secret? He'd promised full disclosure. It was only fair for her to do the same.
"I'm going to Cash's," she said. "He's not home, so don't worry. I saw something over there yesterday, and I want to check it out."
"Can I come along?"
"No."
She had to do this on her own. Cash had taken advantage of her—of her weakness as a woman. She needed to prove she was stronger. She needed to bring him down herself.
"Are you sure it's a good idea? Last night when you got back, you looked… upset."
"Luke, you know how your dad watches your mom? How he lets her do what she wants, make her own mistakes, live her own life? I was so impressed by that—by how much he loves her, respects her, even through her illness. I need you to be like that for me today. Let me do this on my own, okay? If you love me, let me do what I need to do."
"This is serious, isn't it?" he said. "What's going on, Libby?"
"I'll tell you later," she said. "I'll call you as soon as I get back. I promise."
He was quiet for a beat too long, but when his voice came back over the line it was sure and steady. "Okay," he said. "How about this? If I don't hear from you by noon, I'll come out and check on you."
"Okay," she said. She'd be home well before noon. What she was looking for was too big to miss, and it wouldn't take the dogs long to make mincemeat of the rodent population.
Clicking the phone shut, she slipped into Luke's jacket and piled the puppies into the truck. It was a gor geous day, with a light breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and freshly mown grass across the plains. She checked the rearview mirror and smiled to see the puppies running from one side of the bed to the other, sniffing the air in ecstasy, yapping at trees and bushes and telephone poles.
Everything was quiet at Cash's place. Libby opened the Ranger's tailgate and let the puppies tumble out of the truck. With Penny leading the way, they raced in circles for a while, then took off for the barn that stood beside Cash's double-wide. She watched them go, mar veling at how big the pups had gotten. They were nearly the size of their mother. She'd about given up on finding homes for them, although they were still adorable. She'd see how they performed as Verminators. That might be the key to talking some local ranchers into giving her babies a home.
Cautiously, she entered the barn, glancing at her watch. 10:45. She had well over an hour before Luke would start worrying. That should give her plenty of time to poke around. Plenty of time to find the horse she suspected was siring those beautiful foals.
Meanwhile, the dogs were dashing back and forth, yipping with excitement. It was clear the rats wouldn't be underfoot for long. Penny was obviously an expe rienced ratter, and went after every rustle in the straw with gusto, and the puppies' instincts kicked in right away. They weren't as efficient as their mother, but she saw Rooster shaking a rat almost as big as he was, and Rocket tossing a dead mouse in the air. It was brutal, but the rodents had to go and the dogs were making short work of it.
She glanced out the window. Quantum was in the paddock, bucking and kicking up his heels, flaunting his raging testosterone. The mares were in the pasture, graz ing peacefully, ignoring the stumpy stallion's histrionics. As she watched, she heard whinnying from somewhere behind her. She strained to hear as the horse whinnied again. The sound was muffled, as if the horse making it was in a separate room.
The tack room.
Cash hadn't wanted her to go in there. Maybe this was the reason why.
Libby's heart thumped as she rattled the handle on the rustic double door. It was locked, top and bottom. She could hear heavy hooves hitting the walls of the locked room, and the whinnying rose to a panicked scream.
"Hold on, baby," she said soothingly. "Hold on."
She ran over and grabbed a ring of keys that hung beside the barn door. The horse was still screaming and kicking, and her hands trembled as she tried each one in the lock.
None of the keys worked. She glanced around, look ing for more keys. There was a metal first aid box nailed to the wall by the tack room door. Maybe the horse was sick. Or maybe Cash was drugging it to keep it quiet. She opened the box and looked inside. Bandages, alco hol, syringes, and bottles of medication were laid out in neat rows. On top of the rolled bandages was a key. She turned and slid it into the padlock.
"Easy, baby," she muttered.
The key turned easily, and she eased the door open. "Okay, baby, it's okay," she purred, trying to sound relaxed. Peering into the dimness, she saw a tall, dark horse backed into the far corner of the room, pawing the straw. As soon as he saw her, he jerked his head back and screamed, eyes rolling, and lifted his front hooves to strike. She pushed the door shut and held it, her heart pounding. It was dark in there, but from what little she could see, the stall was filthy and the horse was insane. Why would Cash have this animal in his barn? She edged the door open again. The horse had calmed down a little, and stood trembling in the manure-caked straw.
"Hey," Libby said, gently. "Hey, boy." She stretched a hand cautiously toward his head. "Easy," she said softly. He turned to the left, and Libby saw a flash of white on his hip. She jerked her hand back, and the horse reared up again, spinning away from her. But she'd seen it.
That white spot was shaped just like a map of Texas.
Libby slammed the door and leaned against the rough wood paneling, her heart throbbing, her chest constrict ing until she could barely breathe.
Skydancer. It had to be Skydancer. Cash had the horse. He was the secret buyer. It wasn't Quantum that was breeding those mares. It was Skydancer.
Della's horse.
But why would Cash hide the horse, instead of just showing him? Why would he lie?
Libby sat in the dusty straw for a long time, thinking hard and listening to the big horse shifting in his stall. He finally calmed down a little, so she tossed in some hay, replaced the padlock, and stepped out of the barn into the sunshine.
She headed to the field behind
the barn, where the ranch's original homestead stood baking in the hot sun. She needed to know if Skydancer was the only secret Cash was hiding. He might be able to explain the pres ence of the horse, but she had a sick feeling that there might be more.
The dogs were busy attacking a pile of manure-caked straw that was stacked against the barn's rear wall. Penny was in front, the hair on her back raised in a ridge along her spine, her ears laid back, teeth bared. The puppies were ranged behind her. Once in a while, one would dart forward toward the mound, then yip and run back, while Penny continued a low, steady growl.
"Get 'em, guys," Libby said. The manure pile was probably a regular rodent condominium. It would keep them busy while she checked out the old house.
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