Leave Tomorrow Behind

by Judy Clemens

  None of us spoke on the way home. Miranda was driving, so she was concentrating on that, which was best for all of us. Nick sat alone in the back seat—his choice—and my foot was throbbing like it had been stepped on by a cow. Oh, right. It had been.

  Stupid me, when we got home I took the time to check my answering machine, which was blinking. And stupid me again, I pushed the button. Detective Watts. The bank. Watts again. Another cop. All of which had taken the advice Miranda had put on the recording, and called me on my cell phone. But that didn’t make their messages any less annoying than they’d been on my voice mail. They might have even been worse, since I was exhausted, and worried, and just a little freaked out by the whole harming-cows-thing. Plus, it made me mad again that the cops would think I’d have more information than what I’d given them the night before. I’d found the girl. That was it. Nothing else. I punched the erase button. I’d deal with the answering machine recording when I wasn’t half asleep.

  I fell into bed, barely even saying goodnight to Nick. He was asleep within seconds, it seemed, and I expected to follow him to dreamland. But I didn’t. My brain decided it was time to work. And my foot decided that painkillers were not enough to stem the pain. Damn foot. Damn brain. I tried counting cows, but that just made me think of the fair, and I didn’t want to think of the fair. I wanted to think of Harleys and fresh air and grilled hamburgers. Not fried ones, like at the fair.

  The fair.

  Sigh.

  So I might as well go with it—what about the fair was keeping me awake? Dead country singer, whose manure-crusted face kept popping into my head? Misguided teen, whose prank was both illegal and idiotic, about which I’d broken how many rules by not reporting him? Sick dairy cows, harmed by some unknown assailant? My best friend, supposedly sabotaged by a jealous colleague? The cops, who wouldn’t leave me alone, because I was the one to pull the poor dead girl from the shit pile?

  Life was so much easier when all I had to worry about was my future sister-in-law’s wedding planning.

  I rolled onto my side and propped my foot up on a wad of blankets. Nick lay on his back, his profile beautiful in the faint moonlight coming through the translucent curtains. All I wanted was to run away with this man and not come back until all the questions were answered. Was that so much to ask?

  Apparently, yes.

  Okay, so connections. Rikki sang for Gregg, the CEO of Sunburst Studios. Daniella ran the salon where Sunburst sent all of their artists for cosmetic expertise, and knew Rikki. Daniella’s niece and nephew had cows in the same class as Gregg’s daughters. Mrs. Gregg and Daniella were talking at the parade. Gregg and his goons had been looking for someone the night before when I’d been on the fairway, shortly before the screaming girl had discovered Rikki’s body. Austin knew Rikki from childhood, and he’d been seen with her the night before, when the two of them had been busy feeding the Greggs’ calf lemons.

  But there were tons of other people at the fair. Who’s to say Gregg or Daniella or Austin, or even the thugs, had anything to do with Rikki’s death? In fact, if Gregg was looking for her, didn’t that pretty much mean he didn’t know where she was, which should bring me to the conclusion that he hadn’t killed her? And I couldn’t make the leap from feeding a calf citrus fruits to killing a friend, or even a girlfriend.

  Oh, for crying out loud, I was never going to sleep.

  Moving as carefully as possible, I rolled out of bed and limped downstairs. Nick’s laptop lay on the coffee table, and I powered it up. When I pulled up the browser, I took note of what he’d been looking at. Flowers. Caterers. Wedding licenses. Okay, so Miranda had gotten ahold of the laptop. That was clear. Further down the history were things that made more sense for Nick. Realtor sites. Weather in Virginia. Stock prices.

  I clicked in the search bar and typed in Rikki Raines. Of course all of the first hits, several of the first pages, in fact, were about her death. Mostly entertainment news sorts of places, ET, Perez Hilton, People. Lots of photos of her onstage, talking with fans, hanging out with her producer…David Gregg. I studied the pictures, trying to see if there was anything to gain from them, but mostly what I saw was Gregg’s plastic smile and Rikki’s real one. In most of the photos they were surrounded by other celebrities, or people I didn’t recognize, who must have been fans, since the photos had been tagged on people’s Facebook pages.

  Bloggers had been busy guessing who had killed her, and why: crazed stalker types, who believed she would love them if she only gave them a chance; girls who thought she stole their boyfriends; even Valerie Springfield, that other singer Austin had talked about, because she wanted the zombie show guy all to herself. Nobody had mentioned Gregg, or his wife, or anybody else who made sense. And Austin was nowhere to be found, which spoke to how well he and Rikki had kept their secret.

  I was shocked to see a hit on the YouTube video I’d starred in the night before. I checked to see if there was a way to delete it, but since I hadn’t posted it, there was nothing I could do except watch it and wish I’d had the sense to break that person’s phone—or arm—before he’d had a chance to publish.

  There didn’t seem to be anything else to learn about Rikki, except that she was expected to be a contender in the Grammy Awards’ Best New Artist category. A shame that someone so talented, and from all accounts so real, sweet, and filled with integrity, had been taken before she could reach her potential.

  I still wasn’t tired, so I looked up the fair’s schedule, making sure I wasn’t forgetting anything for the next day. Nope. Main thing I wanted to see was the dairy judging, and that would take place in the afternoon, which meant I could spend some time at the farm. A welcome change after the past two stressful days. A little time away, and I felt like I’d become completely disconnected. I guess it hadn’t helped that I’d dealt with not just a murdered girl, but sick cows and a best friend who was maybe being set up for a fall.

  A photo on the page’s constantly changing headline caught my eye. There was Claire, smiling for the camera, her face next to her gorgeous cow’s. I clicked on the photo and was taken back to YouTube, where Claire had made a video, probably for a 4-H project, about how to prepare your dairy cow for showing at the fair. She went through the whole process of combing, brushing, washing, shining, trimming, and everything you do to make your cow as beautiful as she can be. Her cow, September Breeze, didn’t need that much help. She really was a gorgeous specimen.

  I yawned, finally, and decided I was ready to sleep. Or to at least try. I closed the laptop and made my way upstairs. With any luck, I wouldn’t dream about anything except sleeping.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  I didn’t get a whole night’s sleep, but what I got was heavy, so I felt pretty good when I woke up at five-thirty to milk the herd. The smells, the sounds, the feel of their leathery udders, all of it reminded me what was important in my life, what was real. The dust sent up from the grain, the scrape of my boots, the sight of contented cows chewing their cuds, it was all good. And thanks to my generous fiancé, I didn’t have to worry about losing it anytime soon.

  Once milking was done, but before I let the cows loose, I took a moment to wrap my arms around Tinkerbell’s neck and breathe in her oily, musky scent. She turned her huge head toward me, and I nuzzled her. Life was sweet.

  “Miss us?” Lucy stood in the aisle, smiling.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Luce. I’m not going to hug you, too.”

  She laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  I gave Tinkerbell a pat and walked around to unhook the girls from their chains. Lucy took the other side. I spoke over the sounds of departing cows. “You’re early today.”

  “Wasn’t sure how things turned out for you last night, or how late you got home. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

  She was quiet for a few seconds. “Want to tell me about it?”

  No question. “Yes.”

  So while w
e scraped the stalls, limed the walkways, and got the place ready for evening milking, I went over everything that had happened since I’d seen her the morning before. There had been no time to talk at the parade, and it felt good to put some order to it all. I told her about Watts accusing Carla of having something to do with Rikki Raines’ death, the anonymous theory about what might have killed her, and how the official results weren’t even back yet. I talked about Miranda, and how I didn’t think I could survive a lifetime of having her as a sister-in-law. I even told her about Austin, and how guilty I felt for not turning him in.

  “He’s a kid,” Lucy said, when we’d finished, and were sitting on some straw bales, drinking some water. “He made a mistake.”

  “A criminal one.”

  “Yeah. But you do believe him, right? That he wouldn’t harm any more animals? That he didn’t do the Greggs’ dairy cows?”

  “I do. But still—”

  “You made the decision, Stella. You need to stand by it, or go to the authorities today, no matter the consequences. I guess you need to decide which way you can live with it.”

  I wiped my forehead, already sweating at eight o’clock in the morning. “I know. I don’t want to destroy his future. And I really don’t think he’ll do anything that stupid again.”

  “Then let it go. You’ve got other things to worry about.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “Sure thing. What are your plans for today?”

  “Stay here till after lunch. Then I want to go in for dairy judging. Claire Kaufmann’s cow is gorgeous, and I want to see how she does. If I had to guess, she’s got judging wrapped up now that the Greggs’ cows are out of the running.”

  Oh, God. She wouldn’t have done anything to those cows, would she? Not Claire. I thought back to the night before. Had she been in the crowd of people in the barn? I couldn’t remember seeing her, or Bobby, or even their mom. But then, she wouldn’t want to be hanging around looking guilty, would she, if she’d done anything? And I’d been preoccupied. I might not have noticed her presence.

  “What’s wrong?” Lucy said. “You look like you just swallowed a frog.”

  I told her my worries.

  Lucy frowned. “Now you’re just seeing conspiracies.”

  “If Austin could do it…”

  “It doesn’t mean that another good kid would stoop to the same thing. Or a worse thing. And Claire is a good kid, right?”

  “The best. But then, I thought Austin was, too.”

  Lucy shook her head, and got up. “You’re here for the morning?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Then come on, I’ve got some two-person jobs you can help with. You need to get your mind off all this stuff for awhile, and rejoin us normal people.”

  So for the next several hours Lucy and I made repairs, went over inventory, trimmed some hooves, and basically worked side-by-side. And I was happy. Or at least content.

  Queenie was part of the morning, too, and I made a fuss over her, feeling guilty at how absent I’d been the past two days.

  “She doesn’t hold it against you,” Lucy assured me. “It’s been so hot she’s just been shacked up in the barn, panting a lot.”

  I knew she was right. But I felt bad, anyway.

  At noon we left Queenie in her shaded nest, and joined Nick and Miranda for an Italian hoagie lunch. Then, unfortunately, it was time to head back to the fair.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The closer we got to the fairgrounds, the more my anxiety came back about whether Claire had been the one to poison the Greggs’ cows. Would she really go to such lengths, in order for her animal to come out as the champion? I didn’t know. And I hated even thinking about it.

  Miranda had tagged along again, claiming to want to “get to know you better,” but I really think she wanted to make sure Nick wouldn’t commit any more money to me or my farm. Because Miranda just didn’t like me enough for anything else. She sat in the back seat, texting away—to how many people, I had no idea. The way she was going, she might have been texting her entire town. Or state.

  We got to the arena in time to have our pick of seats. Claire and Bobby’s mom were already there, sitting with Daniella, who I remembered was her sister. Amy’s stiff posture spoke of nerves. I knew from talking to her before how high her hopes were that Claire would do well. Bobby’s cow was okay, too, but not of champion quality. Not like Breezy.

  Zach and his posse were sitting in the front row of the bleachers. Taylor had the seat right beside him, of course. At least she wasn’t sitting in his lap, like the Gregg girl had been doing with that guy yesterday. Taylor talked to the other kids, as well as Zach, and smiled, and laughed, and Zach gazed at her like an adoring, half-brained puppy.

  A voice came over the microphone announcing the start of the dairy judging, and my stomach turned flips. What would I do if Claire won? Would I confront her about her possible crime? Let it go? Ask her mom? Pretend it never happened?

  Nick bumped my shoulder with his. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to voice my fears. I’d hoped the Guernsey class would go first, to get it over with, but the Holsteins were at the top of the line. Then the Ayrshires. And finally the Guernseys. I gripped my seat, holding my breath as the kids walked their cows in and around. There was no contest. I mean, sure, there were some other nice animals, but Claire’s September Breeze was far and away the nicest. Her color, her frame, her udder…you couldn’t ask for a better example of perfection. Not unless you had the Greggs’ cows in the ring with her.

  The judge didn’t take long to pronounce the winners, and Claire walked off with the champion ribbon, leaving me with questions and an acidic stomach. I slid off the bleachers.

  Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t want to stay for the rest?”

  “Something I need to do. I’ll be back.”

  Miranda stood up. “I don’t want to stay.”

  I caught Nick’s eye, pleading with him to keep her with him.

  “Miranda and I will meet you after you’re done. How about in the rabbit building?”

  Miranda clapped. “I can see my bunny again?”

  I left them, and made my way to the dairy barn. I was waiting at Claire’s stall when she arrived almost a half hour later. Her usually open, pleasant face—except for when she was fighting jealousy over her cousin’s hold on Zach—was closed down. Angry.

  “Posing for pictures of the champion?” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Like it means anything. Or these do.” She threw her champion banner and ribbon onto her storage box.

  “They don’t? I can think of a lot of people who would love to have them. Including your brother.”

  She snorted. “Like Bobby’s cow could beat Breezy.” She got Breezy settled in the stall and slammed the door. “The two cows—count ’em, two—who could have challenged Breezy, and they’re out of the competition. I mean, I hate those Gregg girls and their stupid champions, but seriously, I wanted to beat them. Not win by default because some stupid person poisoned their cows.”

  Something deep inside me relaxed at her words, and I suddenly couldn’t believe I’d ever thought she could harm the Greggs’ cows. “Hey, it still means something. She’s gorgeous, and perfect. She would’ve beat them.”

  “Yeah, well, now we’ll never know.”

  “You’ll go on to State, right? You’ll face some good competition there.”

  “I guess.” She patted Breezy’s neck. “You’re a good girl. None of it is your fault. I’m not mad at you.”

  “She is a good girl,” I said, “and not just because she has good genes. You’ve put a lot of work into raising her. It shows. It matters.”

  She leaned her forehead on Breezy’s. “Does it?”

  “You know it does. Don’t trash this accomplishment. I mean it.”

  She turned her face, so her cheek rested on Breezy’s head. “I sound like a jerk, don’t I?”

  I smiled.
“I wasn’t going to say it in those words. But, yeah.”

  Amy ran up and grabbed Claire in a huge hug. “I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you!”

  “It wasn’t—” Claire’s eyes flicked up to mine, and she gave a little smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Daniella came next, moving at a more dignified pace, as befitted her gorgeousness, and offered Claire a hug, as well. Claire took it with good grace.

  “Taylor wanted me to pass on her congratulations,” Daniella said. “She’ll tell you herself, later.”

  I looked around, spotting Zach and Bobby at the end of the aisle, making their way toward us, sans Taylor. “Where is she? I saw her at the arena.”

  “The Lovely Miss pageant is today.”