Ghost Horse

by Patricia Rosemoor

  He would have to learn.

  Rising, he pulled the coverlet up to Nissa’s shoulders, and before leaving the room, he lowered her window. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Another storm was brewing.

  One last look at his sleeping daughter and he crossed the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.

  He needed to check on the still-pregnant mare. The vet had reassured him the foal was fine—it was just taking its time. Theo was with the mare tonight, but Damian wouldn’t rest easy until he checked on her for himself.

  But first he needed to see Chloe.

  He needed to talk to her, to come to some understanding. Nissa needed her. He needed her. He feared that, like Dawn, she might just vanish in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Dawn’s leaving had made him grieve for his daughter’s sake. Chloe’s doing the same would make him grieve for them both.

  And, indeed, when knocking at her door didn’t get a response, he dreaded having lost her already.

  “Chloe?” he called.

  Nothing.

  As much as he hated invading anyone’s privacy, he wanted to make sure she was all right. He opened her door and looked inside, but she wasn’t there. Her things were, however—her laptop, a pair of shoes discarded beside a chair and a nightgown across her bed. She hadn’t gone.

  Yet.

  Worried now—had something else untoward happened to her?—he closed the door and started for the back stairs when he realized Mrs. Avery was watching him from her doorway. Was Priscilla in the house, then? Did the housekeeper fear that he would find his ex-wife in the attic?

  “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Damian?”

  “Where’s Priscilla?”

  “I…I wouldn’t know.”

  “Don’t lie!”

  “I haven’t heard from her since yesterday. I swear. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit worried—”

  He cut her off with “Where is Chloe?” and tried to read her for any sign of guilt.

  Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance as Mrs. Avery grew tight-lipped. “Last I saw, Chloe was going for another of her evening strolls.”

  Damian cursed under his breath. “Not into the woods?”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know, sir.”

  But he did.

  Rushing down the stairs, he grabbed a flashlight before heading out into the night, already damp with the threatened rain. He was trying not to panic, but he couldn’t help himself. That Priscilla wasn’t beyond trying to scare Chloe away didn’t escape him. He didn’t think she was capable of killing anyone, but then, he’d been wrong about her before. Or what if he’d been right about Larson being his ex-wife’s lover. He didn’t know what Larson might be willing to do for her.

  So Chloe could be a target yet again.

  Why in the world would she go out for a walk alone at night after all the things that had been happening to her?

  He wanted to throttle her.

  Wanted to hold her in his arms.

  Wanted to make sure she was safe forever.

  I SAT CURLED IN A BALL against the wall opposite Dawn’s grave and tried not to breathe in the fetid smell of her rotting body. I rocked and moaned for who knew how long.

  I wanted to cry…tried to cry…couldn’t.

  Why was I unable to express my grief?

  Maybe because, all along, I’d known. Dawn would never abandon me. How many times had I told myself that?

  I’d known…I’d known!

  Now that I was faced with the reality, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I couldn’t fabricate stories like Dawn taking off because she’d felt guilt over Centaur’s death. She’d had nothing to do with it….

  Or had she?

  A chill shot through me as I realized the stallion’s death might not have been an accident.

  What if she’d been a witness?

  What if Centaur hadn’t accidentally run off the cliff? What if it had been murder? First the horse, then my friend…

  Could Priscilla have done this?

  No one had a good word to say about the woman. She’d practically bankrupted the farm and had wanted more money that Damian didn’t have. Wanted the Equine Diamonds enough to sneak around behind Damian’s back.

  What if she’d wanted more?

  Her daughter…Damian…the farm itself.

  The last made me think of Jack Larson. He wanted the farm. He was Mrs. Avery’s nephew.

  What if they were in it together, all three of them?

  How evil did a person have to be that he would do anything to get what he wanted?

  How evil, to drive a stallion off a bluff to help bring financial ruin to Graylord Pastures?

  How evil, to kill someone simply because she’d witnessed what she shouldn’t?

  The questions were there, but the truth was too horrible to fathom. I wanted different answers. A different suspect. Someone other than Priscilla.

  I didn’t want Nissa to be destroyed by the truth about her mother.

  Above that, I didn’t want to die.

  “Dawn, I’m so sorry. I have to leave you for now,” I whispered as though she could hear me. “But I’ll tell them where to find you. There has to be evidence on you. Fibers. Something. They’ll figure out who did this to you.”

  I wanted to touch her hand, but I couldn’t. That wasn’t Dawn anymore. Dawn was… I was going to say in a better place, but was she?

  Or was she trapped here like Centaur, a phantom doomed to walk the earth until justice was served in her behalf?

  I backed away, toward the mouth of the tunnel. The winds had picked up, the sound like a warning cry whipping around the entrance and echoing around me.

  I had to get to Damian. He would know what to do. He would help me see that justice was done.

  A few steps in the right direction and the tainted air dissipated. I could breathe normally again. Or as normally as a person could after finding the body of someone they loved. I’d lost them all now—mother, father, foster sister…all my family.

  And when Damian knew the truth about me—that I’d been lying about my intentions all along—I would lose him, too. And Nissa. Another reason to grieve, for it had become clear to me that I loved them both.

  I tried not to think of anything but getting to safety as I escaped the tunnel. A thick blanket of fog had rolled up from the river, blinding me as effectively as the dark itself. My flashlight was practically useless—I couldn’t even see my own feet. So I slid them, one at a time, keeping shoe contact with the ground, staying on the twisting path by memory and feel rather than by sight. Every so often a gust of wind threatened to knock me over.

  One wrong step and it would all be over….

  I was practically to the top of the bluff, if my instincts were right, when what sounded like a foghorn blasted toward me, startling me into stepping wrong.

  “Ahhh!”

  My feet slid back and I teetered, ending my awkward balancing act by throwing myself forward. My hands smacked into the rock wall. My flashlight wavered but thankfully didn’t go out. It took me a moment to catch my breath.

  Nothing unusual about a foghorn on the river in this weather…but the sound had been so close. Weird.

  My pulse steadied and I got my feet under me and began moving again.

  Only, something didn’t feel right. Call it instinct or premonition or whatever, but I sensed I wasn’t alone. Another blast of sound convinced me, because it wasn’t coming from the river, but somewhere overhead…as if someone was trying to scare me into falling.

  My pulse raced and my stomach knotted and my instincts went on alert. Sensing trouble, I clicked off my flashlight, slipped it into my pocket and took slow, quiet breaths. Someone had killed my best friend and now I feared that same someone—Priscilla?—was waiting to do the same to me.

  What choice did I have? If I went back into the tunnel, I would be trapped, a sitting duck for a murderer. There was no other way down—no other path to take. So up I would go—at least o
nce I got to the top of the bluff, I would have a chance to escape.

  A third blast of the horn jangled my nerves, but I kept my head. Setting off again, moving cautiously, I tried not to make any noise. My senses were on alert for any hint of movement above.

  Nothing….

  Any scuffle.

  Nothing….

  Any breath.

  Nothing….

  At least not until my hands went wild feeling for the rock face, which suddenly disappeared. Off balance, I caught myself from falling forward. I’d reached the top of the bluff. That’s when I heard a skitter of gravel to my left. A footstep. And a gust of wind cleared the fog just enough that I saw a dark silhouette. I stopped holding back and ran for all I was worth. Feet slapped behind me, followed by the sound of sliding gravel and a low-throated curse.

  Another burst of speed shot me out of the fog, across the clearing toward the woods. I didn’t stop to look for my pursuer. For all I knew, the person could be right behind me; blood rushing through my head had cut off other sounds, and my vision narrowed until my focus was the path directly in front of me. I ran fast and hard until, limbs quaking, chest heaving, I slowed and took a good look around.

  The trees had thinned here and I spotted house lights through the thicket. The wind rattled branches above me, ratcheting up my nerves. I thought I would be closer, but I feared that in my wild flight, I had looped around to the other side of the clearing.

  I stopped just for a moment to catch my breath and pull my flashlight from my pocket so I could see my way home. Thunder rumbled closer now, followed by streaks of lightning that made the woods glow eerily. Gusts of wind made the trees sway like slowly moving behemoths groaning warnings.

  I switched on my flashlight and started picking my way forward. I hadn’t gone far when I spotted something on the ground that made my nerves stand on end.

  Cautiously I shone the beam along the woman’s body. Even before I noted the hair that lay in a tousled riot of dark red curls so much like Nissa’s—even before another streak of lightning infused the nightmare scene with a ghastly glow—I suspected the woman’s identity.

  Priscilla Graylord was dead.

  Once more I felt faint, and when I heard, “Chloe, where are you?” I yelled, “Damian!” and ran toward the voice.

  Damian…Damian will keep me safe….

  No matter that just an hour ago, I’d decided there could be nothing between us, I believed that Damian was a man I could count on.

  A moment later, my panic nearly choking me, I broke into the clearing before the palisades. My wanting to believe Damian would make things right warred with the bodies I had found. A killer was out here somewhere. Wind whistled down my shirt, making my flesh quake. How could anyone make that right? And the danger wasn’t over….

  “There you are, Chloe.”

  That voice…not Damian!

  My heart thundered and my head went light as I realized my imagination had led me straight to my own end. Slowly I turned and faced the killer. Lightning flickered, revealing his identity, making me gasp.

  “That’s right, easy now,” he murmured, as if talking to one of the horses. “No sudden moves.”

  “You—”

  “Killed your friend, Dawn? I’m afraid so. And now I’m going to have to kill you, too.”

  Theo Bosch, barn manager, stood before me, a gun aimed at my middle. Apparently, he’d discarded the foghorn for a more effective weapon.

  I tried to pull my wits about me. Hoping to figure out some way out of this, I stalled for time.

  “The least you could do is tell me why before I die, Theo.”

  “Simple. I wanted to take back what was mine.”

  “Bosch Barns? You killed two women and a stallion over a piece of property?”

  Theo barked a bitter laugh. “Not quite that simple. Damian Graylord deserves to be destroyed. His stealing Bosch Barns from me was a start. Before that he took my woman.”

  “Your woman?”

  “Priscilla. She was mine until she met Damian. He dazzled her with his wealth and promises of the good life. Before I even knew what was what, she eloped with him. When Damian bought out Bosch Barns, he had everything that should be mine. That’s why I took the job here. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer,” he muttered.

  I realized his hatred of Damian had been brewing and building for years. If he’d been any kind of man in the past, hate born of jealousy had destroyed him.

  “Damian knew that you and Priscilla—”

  “Of course she didn’t tell him!” Theo said impatiently. “She wasn’t about to ruin a sweet deal. Priscilla was all for sweet deals, and as mistress of Graylord Pastures, she thought she’d hit candy land. She tried to send me away, but I knew it was just a matter of time before she turned on the man she’d married, because she didn’t love him. And I was right. Damian was working hard, and Priscilla got bored. Restless. That’s where I came in.”

  Theo was holding a gun steady on me, not seeming a bit nervous at the thought of killing again. I wouldn’t go without a fight, but I had to admit my options were slim. I could either rush him and get shot for sure in the process or disappear back into the fog with nowhere to go but the tunnel, where I would be trapped.

  Then again, option two would let me get my hands on a rock to use as a makeshift weapon. Not as effective as a gun perhaps, but it would have to do.

  “Damian knew Priscilla was cheating on him and tried to make her the faithful wife,” Theo was saying. “It worked for a while, but Priscilla grew more and more restless. She put her energies into buying expensive horses the farm couldn’t afford. Eventually Damian cut her off from spending another cent. That did it for her. It didn’t take her long to abandon him and the brat.”

  “And Damian mortgaged the estate to give her the divorce settlement she wanted,” Chloe said.

  “What she wanted was the estate and a life with me. I was going to get it for us. No one ever guessed I was the one behind all the things going wrong on the farm. I knew every step Damian was going to make before he made it. I figured once we had our hands on the Equine Diamonds, that would be enough to buy this place.”

  His face had taken on a fanatic expression, and he sounded delusional. He was insane on some level. Had to be or he never would have done such terrible deeds.

  Knowing I had to make my move soon, I said, “Damian will never sell.”

  “He’ll be forced to sell!” Theo said indignantly. “A matter of time, is all.”

  “So Priscilla found the diamonds?” I asked, wanting to confirm it had been Damian’s ex-wife in the attic.

  “No, but I will.”

  So Priscilla had been in the house, had probably been the one to push me in the dark. “The chimney…was that an accident?”

  “Not any more than your almost being run over in Galena.” He sounded angry when he asked, “Why couldn’t you take the hint and get out while you still could?”

  Angry because he really didn’t want to kill me? If so, then maybe I still had a chance.

  “There’s something I don’t understand, Theo,” I said, trying to make my voice sympathetic. “If you did all of this for Priscilla, how did she end up dead?”

  Another lightning strike revealed the emotions warring across his features and the fact that his hand was shaking. He might have done evil things, but he didn’t seem to be comfortable in his own skin. He really had cared about Priscilla, and despite the fact that he’d killed her, she was still his weak spot.

  “When I suggested we forget about the damn diamonds and the farm and just take off, start a new life together elsewhere, Priscilla laughed at me, told me she wouldn’t spend her life with a man who had nothing!”

  “After all you did for her?” I asked, again playing the sympathetic listener, all the while inching back toward the curtain of fog rising off the river.

  “Priscilla turned out to be an unappreciative bitch!”

  Theo was losing it now, and I
was about to take my chances, when I caught a glimpse of movement in the copse of trees behind him. My pulse jumped and I was hard-pressed not to give away the other presence.

  The barn manager went on. “We fought about leaving and she said things she shouldn’t have…. The next thing I knew my hands were around her neck. I didn’t mean to kill her. It was an accident!”

  More movement. A silhouette separated from the trees. I forced my attention on the barn manager and asked, “Was Dawn an accident, too?”

  “Your friend?” He shook his head and seemed oddly sorry when he said, “Too bad that Dawn saw me force that damn horse off the bluff! I had nothing against her, but I had to kill her to keep her quiet. Just as I’m going to have to kill you.”

  I sensed rather than saw the silhouette move forward and I soared with hope. An adrenaline spike flushed me with energy and purpose.

  “What I don’t understand is why you left Priscilla in the open when you were so careful to bury Dawn in the tunnel.”

  “I left Priscilla where she could be found so that Damian would get nailed for her murder!” Theo yelled as the sky lit, revealing features crazed with emotion. “Everything is his fault!”

  I turned to look over Theo’s shoulder. “Did you get that, Damian?”

  Theo laughed again and raised his arm and aimed the gun. “You’re just trying to distract me, but it won’t work. Damian’s at the house with the brat!”

  “Wrong, Theo!” Damian yelled as he rushed the barn manager from behind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As he rammed Theo, a shot blasted from the handgun, and Damian knew the bullet just missed Chloe.

  Theo recovered fast and swung around. Damian concentrated on relieving him of the weapon. He got both hands on Theo’s arm and the gun itself. They struggled for it…danced around…four hands and arms entangled. Thinking fast, Damian freed his right hand and elbow-jabbed Theo in his shoulder. The other man’s hand went slack for a second, and the gun flew from it and skittered along the ground.