by Toni Leland
The barn door was partway open and Kim stepped through. A chorus of whinnies echoed through the big building and she grinned. You couldn’t slip much past a horse.
“Teri? You in here?”
Hearing no response, Kim moved farther into the aisle, looking up and down both sides. Several stalls were empty. That did not bode well in a therapeutic facility. A familiar brown head popped over the door of the last stall and Kim laughed.
“Hey, buddy, how are ya?”
She started toward the horse, then remembered that he might have a name. When she was about five feet from the door, she took a deep breath.
“Bandit?”
The horse’s head came up, his ears pricked straight forward, a light coming into his large kind eyes as he chuckled softly.
~~
Quaid rolled slowly into downtown Shawnee, a town that time had passed by. The buildings were the originals from the height of the mining operations in the area, and Quaid had the odd sensation of driving through a Hollywood movie set. But this was real. Tall wooden buildings with false fronts and second story balconies, just like in old western movies. Grass grew through the cracks in the sidewalks and many of the storefront windows were dark or boarded up. At one corner, a small café broke the monotony of the drab street. A brilliant mural covered two sides of the building, radiating blues and greens and yellows. Quaid eased off the gas to take a closer look. The painting depicted the town, showing several of the stores he’d just passed. The artwork was primitive, but interesting. The mural was the only bright spot in an otherwise depressing view.
The narrow, winding road continued southeast out of the village and immediately plunged into the rolling hills that were the hallmark of an area developed by mining. The feeling of isolation was strong and Quaid tried to compare it to his own childhood home in Belmont County, but this was desolate and depressing. Once the heart of coal mining, these places had been called “black diamond” towns. When the coal was exhausted, the only things left behind were those who knew no other life. Hard times fell on the area and the land sank into neglect.
In thirty minutes, a sign for Valeville appeared, a village with a population of 102. Quaid slowed to 25 mph and scrutinized the wide spot in the road that was the town. Barker’s Gas Station sat on the left side of the road, a testament to history. The yellow tile walls of the early 1940’s building were the same façade that had once been the sign of prosperous times for the ceramic and pottery industry that grew from the region’s distinctive clay. Those yellow tiles covered floors or lined tunnels all over the country.
Several ancient cars sat next to the station, grass growing through the windows and rust obliterating whatever color the vehicles might have been at one time. The old-fashioned sign was faded, but Quaid supposed that didn’t matter since anyone in the area would know the place. One ancient gas pump stood in front, and a sign in the window offered chewing tobacco, but no liquor sales.
Quaid continued on past a couple of old houses on either side of the road, then a gray barn and pasture. He watched for the turn-off to Route 17 as the highway dipped steeply into a valley. About a mile farther, a white road sign pointed to the right. Quaid turned there and drove slowly along the dirt and gravel road, heading into dense woods. How many people could live out here? he wondered. The old man at Barker’s hadn’t given Quaid a house number, but maybe the mailbox would have a name. But what if Roberta Dodge lived with someone else?
Quaid pulled over and got out his cell phone. He’d call Barker’s and ask for specific directions. The screen lit up and the signal icon showed a large red X through it. Disgusted, he tossed the phone on the seat and drove on. The road wound through the trees and the gravel gave way to packed dirt.
“That’s it. I’m going back to the gas station.”
Finding a place to turn around proved to be a challenge. He drove another two miles before the dense forest thinned out and the road widened. Up ahead, he spotted a place he could pull into and, when he got there, it was a driveway. A battered black mailbox claimed that he had arrived at the Dodge residence.
The truck bumped along two ruts that served as access to the property, taking him back into the dim interior of the woods. Quaid suddenly wished he’d brought his gun. The track turned sharply to the left, then into a clearing. Four large dogs exploded off the porch of a rambling house, setting up a racket that would eliminate Quaid’s need to announce his presence. The dogs danced around the truck as he turned off the ignition. Did he dare step out into that pack? A movement near the house caught his eye, and a man crawled out from under one of the five old cars parked there. He stood up and hollered, and the dogs turned and raced over to him.
Quaid opened the truck door and stepped down, uneasily aware that the man was just standing there, staring at him. Quaid put on his best smile.
“Howdy, this the Dodge residence?”
The man did not smile back. “Who wants to know?”
Quaid walked slowly toward him, looking at the car.
“Nice ’Cuda. 1970?”
The man’s features relaxed a little and he grinned. “Seventy-one. Yeah, she’s a honey. I had one when I was a kid. Never shoulda give it up.”
Quaid stepped over to the faded green car. “What’s under the hood?”
“Four-twenty-six Hemi.”
“Holy shit, there weren’t many of those even made! You musta paid a fortune for this.”
“Nope, found it in a wreckin’ yard in Logan. You mind tellin’ me what yer doin’ here?”
Quaid tried to look sheepish. “Actually, I’m lookin’ for Roberta. She and I—”
“Don’t gimme that shit. Bertie’d never hook the likes of you.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “Yer with the law, ain’t ya?”
“Hell, no! But hey, is she in some kinda trouble?”
A derisive cackle broke the tension. “Man, she’s always in trouble.” He leveled Quaid with a meaningful look. “You’d be better off not findin’ ’er, but if yer determined, she left awhile ago to go up to New Lex to look fer a job.” He shook his head, muttering, “Not that she’d be able to keep one if she found it.”
“Thanks.” Quaid patted the hood. “Enjoy your classic.” He headed toward his truck, then turned as though just remembering something. “Hey, you any relation to Roberta?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. She’s my sister.”
“Well, if you see her again today, tell her Ray was here. Ray from Buckeye Lake.” Quaid winked and grinned lecherously. “She’ll know who you’re talkin’ about.”
A few minutes later, Quaid drove farther down the road, turned around, then pulled off on the side where he had a clear view of the Dodge mailbox. He didn’t have to wait long.
Chapter 15
Kim stepped up to the horse and stroked his neck, whispering his name over and over. He nosed her shoulder, then backed away from the door and swung around to his feed tub. But instead of eating, he stood there and looked back at Kim. She watched him for a moment, then turned to look at the other horses. They were all hanging over stall doors, watching her expectantly.
“Uh-oh,” she whispered, stepping into Bandit’s stall.
The feed tub was empty, one water bucket was empty and the other had only a cup or so in the bottom. There wasn’t a scrap of hay on the floor. A band tightened around Kim’s chest. She left the stall and hurried across the aisle. More empty feed buckets and low water. Then another. She looked at her watch. It was ten o’clock in the morning and these horses hadn’t been fed or watered.
She stood in the center of the aisle and looked around. Where were Teri’s barn helpers? How could the place be completely deserted? One of Teri’s comments about the economy edged into Kim’s mind. Just possibly, Fortune Farms no longer had any barn help. But Kim knew Teri would never let the horses go hungry, even if she had to get up in the middle of the night to take care of everyone. Something was terribly wrong.
A bay mare in the next stall whinnied loudly and
Kim strode toward the feed room. If nothing else, she could take care of the immediate problem.
Thirty minutes later, horses happily munched through fragrant hay. Kim rinsed all the water buckets and refilled them. Hay and water would suffice for now. She didn’t feel comfortable doling out grain when she didn’t know the horses’ needs or schedules. She stood for a moment, listening to the soothing sounds of a horse barn. Familiar longing pierced her chest. A life loved, but long-gone. She dismissed the melancholy and moved toward one of the empty stalls with the door hanging open. The name plate said “Goldie”. Kim glanced inside, noting the stirred-up soiled bedding and tipped-over feed tub. Perhaps this horse had a problem. As she turned to leave the stall, she spotted a small orange object in the shavings. Scooping it up, her chest tightened as she stared at a syringe cap, confirming her notion that Teri was with a sick horse.
A phone rang in the small office at the end of the aisle. Kim pocketed her find and hurried toward the sound, arriving as the ringing stopped. She checked the answering machine. It was unplugged.
“Now, that’s just plain weird.”
Glancing around the small room, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. She moved to the desk and noted a stack of unopened envelopes. The top one was from a mortgage company. She nudged the stack apart, reading the return addresses on most of the pieces. All of them were either the same mortgage company or one of two banks. Could be some significant financial problems in the mix. A dry-erase board hung near the door. She pulled out her cell and moved closer. Someone on this phone list might have some information on Teri’s whereabouts. The contact choices included the veterinarian, farrier, feed store, sheriff’s office, and someone named Roberta Dodge whose name had been crossed off. It looked as though Teri had eliminated the cost of employees. Things must be really bad.
She gazed at the list for a minute, then decided to call the veterinary clinic first. On a hunch, she walked to the desk and picked up the landline phone. The dial tone came on and she pressed “redial”.
A woman answered, “Hanover Equine Clinic.”
“Hi, is Teri Fortune there yet?”
“No, she didn’t ever show up. Oh, can you hold, please?”
Kim hung up the phone. “Not good. Not good at all.”
She strode out the barn door and walked around the side of the building. Sure enough, a grassy spot with wheel imprints showed where the horse trailer had been parked. Teri must have had an emergency and figured she’d feed when she got back. But if she never made it to the clinic, where was she?
Kim went back into the barn and turned off the lights. As she slid the barn door back to its original position, she tried to decide what to do next. Just for the heck of it, she dialed Teri’s cell phone again. This time, Teri answered.
“Oh my God, Kim, you will not believe what happened to me this morning!”
~~
Quaid squinted as an old gray Toyota eased out of the Dodge driveway onto the main road. The female driver had long hair and wore sunglasses. Quaid waited until she rounded the curve, then pulled out to follow. He hadn’t made his reputation as a PI by being stupid. Brother Dodge had tried to say one thing while his body language said something else. The driver of that car was either Roberta herself, or someone else headed out to warn her. Either way, Quaid would find her.
He stayed well back, but kept the car in his sight. On the outskirts of Shawnee, he slowed way down in case she parked somewhere. The Toyota turned south, then picked up Route 93. She was headed in the opposite direction of New Lexington. He continued to stay well back, since whoever had been at the house during his visit would have seen his truck. Maybe that person was deliberately leading him on a goose chase, but he was certain that he’d parked well out of sight of the driveway.
Signs for New Straitsville appeared and, in minutes, Quaid pulled over when the Toyota parked at the curb down the street. The woman climbed out and disappeared through the door of a place called the Empire Bar & Grill. Quaid turned off the ignition and waited about five minutes, then got out and strolled down the sidewalk. Stepping through the door to the bar, he almost reeled back from the strong odor of stale liquor and cigarette smoke. So much for no smoking in public places. He entered and waited for his eyes to adjust from the bright sun to the dim light. The woman was sitting at the far end of the bar and the bartender was leaning close as they talked.
Quaid took a seat next to the woman. “Hello, Roberta.”
“I don’t know you. Get lost.” Her voice was thick with a longtime cigarette habit.
Quaid looked at the bartender. “I’ll have a draft, and the lady will have another of whatever she’s drinking.”
Up close, she looked to be in her mid-thirties, but it had been a tough thirty years. Her blonde hair was dull and stringy with dry, twisty tendrils of an old bleach job and permanent wave. Her skin was sallow and rough, and her eyes were dull with the bleak look of someone who’s given up.
Quaid pulled out his business card and laid it on the bar. “I need to talk to you about Teri Fortune’s barn.”
“That bitch. Why would I help her?”
“I’m not asking you to help her,” said Quaid, formulating an idea to drive the conversation. “I’m actually trying to prove she did something wrong.”
The dull blue eyes lit up. “Yeah? Well, I can sure help with that!”
~~
“Calm down, Teri. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”
“I’m at the sheriff’s office.”
Stunned disbelief filled Kim’s head as Teri’s story unfolded.
“I had to take that pretty palomino mare to the vet this morning. They couldn’t get out to the farm until afternoon, and I couldn’t afford to lose a client’s horse to colic. At least I thought it might be colic. She was acting bizarre and I couldn’t think of anything else it could be. God, I can’t believe this is happening! I’ve physically lost a customer’s horse!”
“Go on, Teri, I’m listening. Take your time.”
“I was headed down Horseshoe Road when a small red car raced up and sped past me. About a half mile farther, I saw the same red car down in the ditch, so I pulled over and ran down to see if the driver was okay. She was slumped over the wheel. God, it scared me, I thought she was dead.
“Anyway, I tried to revive her, kept shaking her, and she finally roused and looked at me like she was confused. I started to dial for help, but she stopped me. Said she was okay and she’d call her husband. She didn’t want the police involved ’cause she’d lose her license. She didn’t speak good English and I had some trouble understanding her. I offered to call a tow truck and she said not to, that she’d be fine.”
Teri fell silent and Kim waited a few seconds before urging her to continue.
“I returned to my truck and went to the back of the trailer to check on the mare. Kim, she was gone!”
“The doors must not have been latched.”
“No. The doors were closed and latched. I have no idea how this happened. The deputies scoured the woods looking for her. There were hoof prints in the dirt beside the road, so we know she was out of the trailer. But she couldn’t have closed the doors herself, so someone came along and let her loose.”
Kim knew better than to ask Teri if she’d noticed anyone around during the incident. Obviously, she’d been focused on the driver of the red car. For Kim’s analytical mind, this was no random act—this was a carefully planned theft.
“Did you get the woman’s name or her license number?”
Teri’s voice caught. “She drove off while I was checking on the mare .”
Kim’s instincts were correct.
“Teri, I’m at your barn right now. I gave the horses some hay and water. Is there anything else you want me to do?”
“Thank you so much. I never dreamed I wouldn’t be back by now. I’ll grain them later…why did you go to my place?”
“I wanted to show you something amazing, then I realized you had a problem. I�
��ll tell you all about it later after you get this mess sorted out.”
Kim drove home slowly, using the time to consider all the aspects of Teri’s story. Though the poor girl obviously hadn’t made the connection, it was clear to Kim that the red car had been a deliberate diversion. In her mind, she could picture Teri down in the gully tending to an “injured” driver while a horse trailer backed up to the Fortune rig and transferred the mare. They only made one mistake—closing and latching the doors. Had they left them open, valuable time would be lost in fruitless search for a horse loose in the woods. But the perps probably never dreamed Teri would check the trailer before she continued on to her final destination.
The worst part of the whole thing was the impact on Teri. She’d now had a problem with two horses under her care. News travels fast and it wouldn’t be any time at all before her customers made a mass exodus.
Kim glanced over at the page with Bandit’s description. She was dying to show Teri and start the process of getting that lovely horse back to his rightful owner. But Kim’s pleasure was short-lived. Bandit was part of an active case. Jasper Martin would have a fit. But actually, he had no right to the horse. And, of course, Garrett Quaid would have a few choice things to say about her plans. A pain-in-the-butt, but excellent at what he does.
~~
After a brief love-fest with Miss Kitty, Kim sat down at her computer to finish the research she’d started earlier. She read through the list of stolen horses, using a yellow marker to highlight each horse’s home town and state. Of the fourteen show horses, nine were from California, not including Talisman and the Victory Farms allegedly stolen filly. The remaining five horses on the stolen list were from different states: Washington, Arizona, Michigan, New Jersey, and Vermont—all states with heavy horse populations. The wide distribution almost confirmed her idea that the theft ring was big.