Ghost Horse

by Patricia Rosemoor

  I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What did you think of Dawn?”

  “No question that she’s an excellent teacher. She developed a good rapport with my daughter.”

  “But not with the rest of the family? With you?”

  “She wasn’t to my taste, if that’s what you’re asking. But that’s neither here nor there. She got Nissa back on the right road scholastically, and that’s what concerned me.”

  “So you didn’t like her?”

  Damian set down his fork and narrowed his gaze on me. “What’s all this interest in your predecessor?”

  “Your daughter is emotionally vulnerable. She feels doubly abandoned. That’s an additional challenge for me. I’m simply trying to do the best for her.”

  “I thought we already had this conversation.”

  Trying to hide my frustration was a challenge. I ate in silence for a few minutes before saying, “There’s something you may not know about your daughter’s emotional state…”

  “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “She sleepwalks.”

  Damian put down his fork and narrowed his gaze on me. “What are you talking about? When?”

  “I found her in my room the first night. She was okay, but she was looking for her mother while in her sleep. I got her back into her bed and tucked her in. She never woke up.”

  “This happened the night before last and you waited until now to tell me?”

  “I meant to tell you earlier, but I didn’t want to talk about the situation in front of Nissa. I was hoping to take you aside when we were out riding yesterday, but then the subject of the gray horse came up…and knocked the thought right out of me.” I tried not to let my resentment at his disbelief in my story color my tone. “And I haven’t exactly had the right opportunity since.”

  “Opportunity? When it comes to my daughter, I want you to make the opportunity. If there’s a problem, I need to know about it immediately!”

  “Yes, of course…. I’m so sorry, Damian.”

  Conversation didn’t lull. It came to an abrupt halt. Great. Now Damian was angry with me. He was right, of course. I should have made it my business to tell him immediately. I’d let my own interests interfere. As much as I wanted to find out what had happened to Dawn, Nissa’s welfare had to be my first concern.

  So the dinner proved to be a bust.

  Rather than getting answers, I was simply left with more questions.

  GETTING AWAY FROM DAMIAN was a major relief. Walking down Main Street alone as the sun set, stopping in front of display windows of antique and other shops frequented by tourists, allowed me to breathe naturally again. At times I felt as if someone were watching me, but I put it to a combination of guilt and nerves. My employer was nowhere in the vicinity. I checked to make sure.

  Damian Graylord was simply too much for me to handle, and as I entered an antique shop, I wondered what had made me think that I could play detective and figure out what had happened to my friend. I should have hired a private investigator. Not that I had the money to do so.

  Besides, there was no one who cared more about Dawn than I did—except, perhaps, this supposed new husband whom no one had met.

  Inside the store, I looked around at furniture and collectables from the Victorian era and forward. Dawn and I loved to rummage through stores like this in hopes of making a find we could afford to bring home. We had done so before she’d taken the job schooling Nissa.

  If only her position at her school hadn’t been cut, she wouldn’t have been day-to-day subbing, wouldn’t have taken the temporary position away from home, wouldn’t be missing now with no one but me to care. And Nissa. If the girl knew Dawn really hadn’t run off on her, she would be even more upset than she already was.

  Hoping to find something to take me out of this mood, I looked around more carefully until my gaze lit on an object that stuck out like a sore thumb.

  The horse was a miniature of one of those life-size ponies painted by artists out west a couple of years before. This one’s side was decorated with four Thoroughbred horses charging down the home stretch, the leader a nose ahead of the others. The silks of the jockeys were in bright contrast to the midnight-black background.

  The find delighted me. Thinking that Nissa would love it, I thought to buy it for her.

  But as I reached for it, my hand collided with another.

  “Sorry,” we both said at once.

  The other interested party was a good-looking man with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He seemed familiar somehow, but I couldn’t place him.

  “Go ahead,” the man urged. “If you really want the horse, please, it’s yours. My niece probably has too many of these things, anyway.”

  “Are you sure? We both reached for it at the same time. We could flip a coin.”

  “I wouldn’t want to stop you from buying a souvenir to take home.”

  “Oh, I’m not a tourist. I don’t mean I’m a local, but I’m working here for the summer. The girl I’m tutoring is crazy about horses.”

  “Really?” he said, his inflection indicating interest. “Well, I insist you take it.”

  “I feel kind of bad…”

  “Then stroll with me for a little while if you want me to feel better. There’s a great antique store down the street that you would probably love.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You can help me pick out a gift for my niece.”

  He was being so generous and charming, and I was feeling a little guilty that I really wanted that horse for Nissa. I didn’t know how to put him off nicely. I checked my watch and said, “I really have to meet my employer at the parking lot by the river in a half hour.”

  “Plenty of time to check out just one more shop. The name’s Jack.”

  “Chloe.”

  His being so nice trapped me into saying yes. So after I paid for the horse, I left with him and headed for another shop filled with collectibles. Jack was attractive and had a winning smile, so why did I feel so weird accompanying him? We were only browsing, for heaven’s sake.

  As we strolled down the street, storefronts and street-lamps now lit brightly against the dark, he asked, “So how do you like Galena?”

  “It’s lovely. This is my first time in town.”

  “So you’re staying someplace in the country?”

  “A horse farm.”

  “Not Graylord Pastures?” He asked this so quickly that I thought he must have somehow already known it.

  “That’s it.”

  He stopped in the street, the shop seemingly forgotten. “So, you’re the teacher they brought in to replace the one who left last month.”

  “You know the Graylords?”

  “Very well, actually.”

  That put me on alert. I wondered what he knew that I should. And I wondered how to get any pertinent information out of him.

  “Where is that store you wanted me to see?” I asked.

  “Oh, sorry. Right here.” He indicated the next store and let me lead the way inside before asking, “So where do you hail from? Dubuque? Rockford?”

  “Chicago.”

  His eyebrows raised fractionally. “Really. The other girl was from Chicago, as well.”

  Wondering how he’d known that, I shrugged and moved past him to a chest of drawers set out with old jewelry. No doubt gossip about outsiders was rife in a small area like this. Hopefully, that would make him inclined to do likewise.

  “Dawn and I were listed with the same agency.”

  “So you knew her.”

  “Chicago is a huge city,” I murmured, pretending I was interested in a pair of rhinestone earrings from the fifties. “I couldn’t possibly know everyone in the system. There are thousands of teachers.”

  “You called her Dawn, so it sounded like you knew her.”

  Not wanting to lie outright, I continued to hedge. “Nissa talks about Dawn. They were quite fond of each other. Did you know her?”

&nbs
p; His gaze on me felt intense, as if he was trying to read me. Why…I didn’t know. His dark brown eyes seemed shuttered, as if he were keeping me at a distance. Could he tell I was dabbling in half-truths?

  “I met her,” he finally said. “Nice girl.”

  “Odd how she up and married some guy she’d just met.”

  “Very odd. What do you think about this?” he asked, holding up a teddy bear.

  “How old is your niece?”

  “Um…fifteen.”

  I shook my head. “So, did you ever see Dawn with this new husband of hers?”

  “Afraid not.” Jack grabbed a tiny bag seeded with pearls. “What about this?”

  “That’s more like it.”

  “Hmm, let me think about it.” He returned the bag to its table.

  “So where did you meet her?” Somehow I didn’t think it was at the farm.

  “The first time? I don’t recall. We ended up at a few of the same social events here in town.”

  “Maybe you saw her with the very man she married.”

  “If I did, I don’t remember.”

  Disappointed that either he wasn’t being forthcoming or he didn’t know more, I moved on to a display of old photographs in equally old frames and quickly changed the subject to another that interested me.

  “I suppose you knew Priscilla, too,” I said, watching for his reaction.

  “I had her number, yes.”

  A weird thing to say, but not out of line with everything I’d been hearing. And his expression was neutral, so it didn’t seem he had anything personal against the ex-Mrs. Graylord.

  “I’m just a little worried about Nissa. She so wants to see her mother.”

  “That might be difficult, considering the circumstances.”

  “Priscilla lives in town, right?”

  “Where did you get that idea?”

  “I just assumed—”

  “Wrong,” Jack finished for me. “Priscilla Graylord did a disappearing act. God only knows what happened to her. God and maybe Damian Graylord.”

  There it was again, that intimation of foul play. “That certainly sounds ominous.”

  “For all we know, Damian locked her away in the attic and threw away the key. He and Priscilla didn’t get along.”

  The attic reference got to me. All those noises I’d been hearing above me…Mrs. Avery warning me the attic was off-limits…her stopping me when I tried…

  I shook away the fanciful thoughts and said, “Obviously, they had some serious problems. That’s why they’re divorced.”

  “They didn’t get along for years. I’m sure the final straw was Priscilla running the farm’s finances into the ground. The only question I have is…what took Damian so long to get rid of her?”

  The breath caught in my throat at the last part of Jack’s statement…“get rid of her.” Did he really mean it the way it sounded?

  “I’m sure he tried to work out his marriage for Nissa’s sake.”

  “Yeah, he dotes on the kid. He’s determined to keep Graylord Pastures intact for her. Considering the way his empire has been crumbling, he’s a little delusional.”

  “What would you have him do?”

  “Tighten his belt. Sell some of the hoof stock, part of the property.”

  Now I knew why Jack had seemed familiar. He was the neighbor Damian had been arguing with—Jack Larson. He’d also been after Dawn, or so she’d told Nissa. And he was acting as if he barely knew her.

  Not that I was going to let on I was aware of any of this.

  “I’m sure Damian will do whatever it takes to hang on as long as possible.” Maybe he could even find those diamonds Alex had told me about. “His losing Graylord Pastures is unthinkable.”

  “Sometimes the unthinkable happens.”

  I was really not liking Jack Larson. “Well, we can hope not.”

  “Right. So has anything new happened at the farm?”

  “New?”

  “Any new bad luck? I haven’t heard about any more catastrophes since he lost that stallion.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “No more equipment breakdowns or fires?”

  “Not that I’ve heard,” I said, my voice tightening.

  I suspected Jack Larson had known who I was when I’d walked into that first antique shop. He could have seen me coming out of the restaurant with Damian and followed me to get information about the farm from me. Information he could use to squeeze Damian?

  The idea gave me the creeps.

  I said, “Listen, it’s been enlightening, but I need to get going.”

  “What a shame. We were just getting to know each other. What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked smoothly.

  “I’m afraid I’ll be busy.”

  “The night after?”

  “Busy.”

  “The night after that?” His lips curled. “I suppose you’ll be busy then, too.”

  “I suppose I will.” I was already backing away. “Good luck finding something.”

  “What?”

  His instant confusion convinced me he hadn’t been looking for a present for any niece but had been using the excuse to talk to me.

  “For your niece,” I reminded him, before whipping away and hotfooting it out of the store.

  I stood outside for a moment to get my bearings. It was dark now and everything looked different. Glancing down the street, I spotted the store where Jack had intercepted me. Beyond that, on the other side of the street, would be the restaurant, and a block behind that, the parked car.

  Figuring out my directions to the parking lot, I crossed the street and felt a tingle down my spine. I glanced back. Jack stood outside the store, staring after me. I hurried and—though the parking lot was still a block or so farther along—turned down a side street just so I didn’t have to feel Jack’s gaze on the back of my neck.

  What a position I’d put myself in. First I’d agreed to have dinner with Damian in hopes of getting him to open up. Not only had I put him off in several different ways, but then I’d left myself open to be a target of his business rival. I hoped Damian never heard about it.

  Few people ventured away from the Main Street shops. The sidewalks were pretty much deserted, and only a few cars circled, their drivers undoubtedly searching for parking. Though streetlights were on, they barely cut through the dark, the spooky atmosphere filling me with a growing sense of unease. I turned again and the way was laden with shadows. The street seemed my safest bet. In Chicago if I came home late at night, I walked down the middle of the street. So I quickly hurried into the open, away from the dark corners, breathing easier only when I saw the parking lot ahead.

  My relief didn’t last long.

  The thrum of an engine behind me had me glancing over my shoulder into the brights of a dark car creeping along behind me. I moved to the side of the street to let the vehicle pass, but it stayed equidistant from me.

  I hurried faster.

  Just as I got in the open to cross to the other side of the street, a squeal of tires screeched up my spine, and I whirled around.

  The now-speeding vehicle jumped out of the dark toward me.

  Chapter Nine

  “Stop!” I shouted, blinded by the brights and trying to move feet that felt rooted to the ground.

  The next seconds unraveled in slow motion:

  …forcing a foot to step toward the sidewalk…

  …the brights looming closer…

  …fumbling with the package that escaped my grasp…

  …stepping out of the path of the speeding car even as I felt its metal breath…

  And then I tripped on the curb and went sprawling.

  “Hey, are you all right?” a male voice called.

  I blinked and saw a couple running toward me. Strangers. I couldn’t get a breath to answer.

  “Call for an ambulance,” the woman said.

  The man pulled out his cell phone, but I choked out, “No…not hit.”

  “
Are you sure?”

  “I tripped, but I’m okay.” Bruised from the fall, probably, but not otherwise hurt.

  “Let me help you up.”

  I took the hand the man offered and let him pull me to my feet. He was an older man with a weathered face and receding hairline, but he was still strong.

  His companion, in good physical shape, also, stooped over in the street, saying, “Too bad I didn’t see the guy’s license plate or I’d get the cops after him.”

  “Too bad,” I echoed.

  Her voice apologetic, the woman offered me the object she’d picked up—a crumpled bag. “I think he ran over this.”

  I nodded and looked inside at the smashed horse and thought that could have been me. The back of my throat felt tight and my eyes felt hot. I blinked back tears and fought the undoubtedly normal reaction.

  “Reckless driver,” the woman said, shaking her head.

  Reckless? I didn’t think so. I was certain whoever had been behind the wheel had meant to hit me. But why? I had no enemies…unless, of course, someone knew why I was here and had reason to hide the truth of Dawn’s disappearance.

  Did that mean I was getting close?

  Jack Larson had avoided my question about Dawn….

  I realized the man and woman were staring at me with concern.

  “I really am all right,” I assured them. “But thank you both for your help.”

  “You seem to be in shock,” the man said. “You shouldn’t be alone. We can see you home.”

  “No, the car is here.”

  “Then we’ll walk you to it…but are you sure you’re in any condition to drive?”

  I was already scanning the lot for Damian’s dark sedan, but the vehicle eluded me. I frowned. “It’s not here.” We’d parked near the street, but the car was gone.

  “You mean someone stole your car?”

  “Not mine.”

  Where in the world had he gone?

  Before I could explain, a vehicle pulled up along the curb and Damian alighted, saying, “Chloe, sorry I’m late.”

  “Oh, your husband is here,” the woman said, sounding relieved. “Good.”

  “We’ll just get going, then.” To Damian the man said, “Your wife is a lucky woman.”