He followed her toward the barn. Near the entryway, a huge Doberman went ballistic at the end of his chain. Seeing the great jaws and flashing white teeth as the dog snarled and thrashed to get loose, Cole hoped mightily that the chain would hold.
“I see you have a guard dog,” he said.
Carmen shouted at the dog in Spanish, but he ignored her and continued to struggle to get free. “Yes, we imported him from Germany. He’s supposed to be a fully trained protection dog, but he’s not as obedient as he should be. We allow him to patrol the grounds at night. These horses are very valuable.”
Nothing like having a poorly trained dog roaming the property at night. He hoped the dog didn’t bite an innocent person by accident. They’d continued to walk as they spoke and soon moved from the sunlight outside into the subdued light of the barn. The central alleyway had stalls and rooms branching off on either side and smelled of hay and horse manure. Wheelbarrows, pitchforks, rakes, and small stacks of hay sat at intervals down the alley. It was neat and well organized, a place for everything and everything in its place.
“He’s in this first stall,” Carmen said. “We gave him the medicine you suggested, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling any better.”
Cole peered over the stall door. The black stallion moved stiffly around the stall, clearly in pain but too agitated to stand still. Sweat ran in rivulets down his neck and torso, dripping from his chest and belly. Muscle fasciculation, fine muscle tremors, ran through his entire body. The sight shocked even Cole, who was somewhat used to seeing animals in pain.
He followed Carmen into the stall. She murmured sounds of comfort, and the stallion let her clip a lead rope onto his halter. “I didn’t know if I should tie him or let him move around. I called to ask, but your secretary said you were on your way. He seemed too nervous to tie, so I left him alone.”
“That’s fine. That’s what I typically recommend. He’s sweating more than I would expect. How long has he been like this?”
“Since a little before eight o’clock this morning.”
Cole still suspected this was an acute episode of exertional rhabdomyolysis, commonly known as “tying up,” but it was worse than any case he’d seen before. He ran a hand down the horse’s back, over his rump, and down the hind leg near the stifle—hard as stone beneath the skin, no body fat. This thoroughbred was in peak racing condition, so a lack of body fat didn’t come as a big surprise. Unfortunately the hardness in the large muscles of the back, rump, and hind leg didn’t either. It indicated spasm and confirmed his suspicions.
Cole used his stethoscope to listen to the stallion’s heartbeat—eighty-eight per minute, indicating severe pain.
“Will he let me get a temp while you hold him?” he asked.
“Yes. He’s usually hard to work with, but today he seems too sick to care.”
Diablo—not the type of name you give a gentle horse. Nevertheless, the stallion stood in place, muscles quivering, while Cole temped him. Not elevated. Usually there was a slightly elevated temp with rhabdomyolysis.
A loud crash from down the alleyway echoed through the building. From the same direction, a horse snorted and kicked the wall in his stall. Diablo jumped and pulled back on the rope, dragging Carmen with him. Cole sidestepped to move out of the way and then reached to help Carmen, but she was already bringing the huge stallion under control.
Carmen frowned, obviously displeased. “One minute. I’ll be right back,” she said, handing Cole the lead rope.
Although Cole stayed with Diablo, he could hear Carmen’s voice from farther down the alley, reaming someone out in Spanish. He didn’t understand what she was saying, but her tone made it clear that someone was getting a reprimand, and he was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of that tongue-lashing.
While she was gone, Cole pulled open Diablo’s lips and pressed the gum above his teeth to check capillary refill time—several seconds, prolonged. Again, not quite what he’d expected. Typically the gums were reddened and capillary refill was quick. But with this much sweating, Diablo was probably becoming dehydrated or toxic.
Carmen quietly slipped back inside the box stall.
“I’m going to need to set up an IV and give him some fluids,” Cole told her. He looked around the stall, choosing the best place to set things up. “We’ll tie him here by his hay after I get it established, and I can hang the bag up above. I’ll go get my supplies out of the truck and be right back.”
Cole found the supplies he needed, carried them back to the stall in a stainless steel bucket, and let himself back in. “There’ll be a needle stick to put in the IV,” he told Carmen. “Just let him circle around us if he won’t stand still. I’ll stay with him.”
Carmen murmured to the horse in Spanish while Cole approached. He blocked the jugular vein in Diablo’s neck with one hand while he inserted the needle. Leaving the flexible catheter in place, he withdrew the sharp needle and secured the external part with tape. The stallion tolerated the procedure well, not moving after the first flinch. “I need to draw some blood before I set up the fluids.”
“What are you testing for?”
“I want to measure some enzymes and minerals in his blood. This amount of sweating might throw something off.”
Cole drew the blood sample from the IV and then administered sedation. He squeezed a dose of anti-inflammatory medication through a tube placed into Diablo’s mouth. The stallion thrust his tongue against it and bobbed his head but swallowed the paste anyway. Cole hooked up a bag of fluid and held it high. “This will take a few minutes,” he said. “Go ahead and tie him now, and I’ll hang this up above.”
After hooking the bag on top of the feed bunk, Cole stepped back to observe the horse. “Let’s give him a few minutes.”
Still uncomfortable, Diablo shifted his weight as he stood with his back slightly hunched, the typical stance expected from rhabdomyolysis.
“Does this horse get grain or sweet feed?” Cole asked.
“Yes.”
“I need you to put a hold on that, but keep some grass hay in front of him. We’ll try to make him feel better so that he’ll keep eating. You’ll have to keep him as quiet as possible.”
“Shall we keep him tied up?”
“No, let him move around on his own. But hold off on any other form of exercise. I’ll let you know what the lab results are tomorrow.”
With a frown of concern creasing her brow, she studied Diablo. “This horse means a lot to me. I can do whatever treatment you recommend. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“I’ll leave medications and show you how to give them and what to watch for. Keep an eye on him and call me with an update around four this afternoon. Call sooner if he gets worse or if you have a question.” Cole picked up his stethoscope. “I’ll want you to count his heartbeats per minute.”
“I have my own stethoscope. I’m used to what a normal heartbeat sounds like.”
Cole thought Carmen appeared experienced enough to leave the stallion in her care; he was too sick to transport to the clinic anyway. Diablo’s heart still raced, but there was nothing more Cole could do for him now. He outlined a treatment plan with Carmen while the IV fluid finished dripping. Then he disconnected the tubing, recapped the end, and prepared to leave. Carmen accompanied him as he left the barn. The Doberman rushed to the end of the chain, coming to a hard stop and barking a fierce warning.
Cold wind blasted, and Cole pulled his jacket close. Gray storm clouds filled the sky. At the truck, he put away his supplies and moved to get into the driver’s side where he took a moment to jot down a list of instructions for Diablo. He gave it to her along with a business card. “I should come back tomorrow or Sunday to check on him, unless he’s had a sudden turnaround for the better.”
Taking off her glove, she offered another handshake, and this time it felt warm and soft and her hand felt small in his. “That will be fine,” she said. “Thank you for coming so far to take care of Diablo.”
High-strung thoroughbreds. Must be hard to manage.
Cole did a three-point turn and drove down the lane to leave the property, pulling out his cell phone, intending to call Tess to tell her he was heading back to the clinic. No signal. He placed the phone back in his pocket. He’d call her once he got down from the high country; maybe he could reach her when he hit the highway.
Chapter 6
Wind buffeted the SUV as Mattie steered around the last curve leading into Timber Creek. After having exhausted all the potential leads on the list that Cole had given them and some additional names that Anya Yamamoto had shared, she’d decided to ditch searching by phone and drive along some of the county roads between the hot springs and Cole’s clinic. Perhaps they’d get a lucky break and she and Robo would find Adrienne’s abandoned car—if one could consider that kind of thing lucky.
Mattie’s cell phone rang as she neared the town. She glanced at the caller ID. It was Cole. She used her new vehicle’s hands-free feature to connect. “This is Mattie.”
“Hi, I’m just checking in to see how things are coming along with the search for Adrienne,” Cole said.
“Nothing solid yet.”
“So none of the people I listed could tell you anything useful?” He sounded disappointed.
“No, but thanks for helping with that. It was worth a try.”
“I’m on my way down from a stable up in the mountains. It’s looking pretty ugly up here. I’m afraid a storm is coming in.”
Mattie looked at the sky layered with gray clouds. “Yeah, it’s starting to look bad down here, too.”
A silence deepened between them, and Mattie knew they were both thinking of Adrienne and what this storm meant if she was up in the mountains somewhere, unprotected and exposed to the elements. Neither of them seemed to want to say it.
“Hey, do you want to come for dinner tomorrow night and test out Mrs. Gibbs’s cooking?” Cole asked. “It’s proving to be a winner so far. Besides, I’d like to see what you think of her.”
Why would he care about that? She was familiar with dinner invitations to the Walker home, but she couldn’t imagine that he’d seriously be curious about her opinion of the housekeeper. “I’ll have to see where we are with the case. I don’t want to say I can come and then not be able to make it.”
“Can I tell her it’s a ‘maybe’? One more person for dinner shouldn’t be a big deal, and you can come if you’re able.”
“All right.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “Good. I hope to see you then.”
Feeling herself relax, Mattie smiled, too. After disconnecting the call, she reached to turn on the radio. She tuned to a station out of Denver to listen to a weather forecast. She didn’t have to wait long to learn what she needed to know.
“An arctic front is moving into Colorado, bringing strong winds and the first snow of the season to Colorado’s high country. Temperatures will drop to the low thirties here in Denver, and we’ll need to batten down the hatches. Expect winds around forty miles per hour with gusts up to sixty. Our snow forecast is for six to eight inches in the mountains above ten thousand feet for tonight. But don’t be disappointed, folks, we can expect snow by tomorrow night even down here in the Mile-High City. Stay tuned for more details.”
Having heard enough, Mattie switched off the radio. At about eight thousand feet, Timber Creek would most likely receive its first snow of the season by tomorrow night. The wilderness area around them would probably get hit tonight. Even without snow, she figured the temperature would plummet in the high country today from the seasonal sixties to frigid twenties with a wind-chill factor that would sink toward zero. She shivered and turned up the heat. She hoped Adrienne was someplace where she could do the same.
Back at the station, she unloaded Robo and went inside. Rainbow took off her headset and stood up from her desk.
“Mattie! I was just about to call you. Sheriff McCoy wants to see you right away. We’ve got a hit on Adrienne’s car.”
Her heart did a double step. “Where?”
Rainbow’s face paled as she said the words. “Way up Dead Man Gulch. A logger reported it to Sandy Benson. He noticed it yesterday and got concerned when it was still there today. Especially with the storm coming, you know. So he called it in, and now you’ve got to get up there and let Robo find her.”
Mattie squeezed Rainbow’s hand as tears welled in her friend’s eyes. “Where’s the sheriff?”
“In his office.”
Mattie crossed over and tapped on the door. “Come in,” he said.
He was halfway across the room when she opened the door. Excitement had replaced his typically unflappable expression. “We found Adrienne’s car.”
“Rainbow told me.”
“We’ve caught a break. The car isn’t parked at a trailhead. It’s at a pull-off on a logging trail up Dead Man Gulch. This is a rugged area, not a typical place for people to hike. In fact, it’s not near any groomed trails.”
“I wonder what she was doing there.”
“I’m not sure, but we need you and Robo to head up there. Here are the directions to get to the site and the GPS setting.” He handed her a handwritten list. “Is it clear enough?”
She read the note. “Yes, sir. How about Brody? Is he coming with me?”
“He and Deputy Johnson are already on their way.”
A pet peeve niggled at her. She hoped they wouldn’t disturb any scent trails. She’d call him on the way and tell him to stay inside his own vehicle until she could get there. “How far ahead of me are they?”
“Hard to say. They were already near that area when Benson called.”
It might be too late; they were probably out of cell phone range. “I’ll be on my way, then.”
“And Mattie . . .”
Mattie turned back toward him, surprised that he’d used her given name. He was always so formal.
“Don’t take any chances out there,” he said. “We’ve got severe storm warnings forecasted for the high country, and temperatures will fall tonight. Make sure you get down off that mountain in time. Take your winter gear.”
“It’s already in the car,” she said, thinking of Adrienne. “We may need riders on horseback for a rescue mission.”
“Cole Walker has volunteered to help organize that. I’ll give him a heads-up, let him know there’s that possibility.”
“With this storm coming, I think we’d better send a couple riders up to the area now to wait at the scene. Then if we find her and need help with evacuation, we won’t waste any time.”
McCoy paused, thinking it over. “I hate to activate volunteers unnecessarily, but I agree with you on this one. I’ll make the call.”
“Thank you.” Mattie left his office, Robo at her side.
Holding out a paper bag, Rainbow intercepted Mattie as she started past the dispatcher’s desk. “Here’s a sandwich and some fruit for you to eat for lunch on your way up, and there’s a bottle of water in there, too.” Mattie could see the distress in her face. “Take care of yourself out there. I don’t want you to get lost, too.”
She took the bag. “Thanks. I keep supplies in the car, so don’t worry. We’ll do our best to bring her back, Rainbow.”
Mattie hurried to the Explorer, reloaded Robo, and settled into her own seat. She plugged the GPS coordinates into her system and then pulled out of the parking lot. She tried to call Brody’s cell phone but was disappointed when it went to voice mail.
Gravel spattered against the bottom of her SUV as she drove fast on the county road. A cloud bank loomed over the jagged northwestern horizon, gray and ominous. For the most part, she headed into the wind. Al
though she didn’t feel hungry, she reached into the paper bag on the seat beside her to grab the sandwich. If Robo found a scent trail that led into the wilderness, her body would need fuel to keep up with him.
The first thirty minutes of the journey weren’t too hard. But the road grew narrow and pitted as she climbed toward the gulch, leaving behind pinion and juniper to go up into a forest of towering ponderosa and lodgepole pine. It reminded her of the day Robo found Grace Hartman, and she hoped today wouldn’t end in the same kind of tragedy.
She’d thought Robo’s discovery of a body was nothing short of miraculous; he’d never been trained in cadaver work. But a phone call to his trainer Jim Madsen had cleared up the mystery. He’d said, “Hell, Deputy, that must be the smartest dog on the planet you’ve got there. We tested him once on cadaver work before we decided to train him for narcotics detection. The way I figure it, the damn dog must’ve remembered what to do.”
It didn’t surprise Mattie; she already knew her dog was a genius.
The GPS guided her onto a little-used road deformed by signs of washout. Steep walls of timber defined the sides of Dead Man Gulch as the road followed a narrow stream upward. Groves of aspen provided color ranging from yellow to gold to orange, their leaves quivering in the wind that plucked them from limbs and sent them skittering along the roadbed. Her outdoor temperature gauge said forty-four degrees, then forty-two. The nighttime plummet had begun.
Robo stood behind her in his compartment, watching out the windshield.
“We’re going to work,” she told him. He pricked his ears, licking his lips in anticipation.
She found the next turn and swung onto a small logging road. It wouldn’t be far now, and she felt anxiety mingle with the sandwich she’d consumed. The narrow road grew steep and even more rugged. Remembering that Adrienne drove a compact sedan, Mattie wondered why she would drive all the way in here. It could be done—Brody’s cruiser was also up ahead—but why would she want to expose her car to the possibility of damage? She could’ve parked down below and hiked up this way if she was interested in exercise and scenery.
Stalking Ground Page 5