"You've got a regular wholesale nursery here."
"My clientele has come to expect a certain style."
"It seems like an awful lot of vegetables for the spa's kitchen."
"Nothing goes to waste."
They rode in silence for a few minutes.
"Well, that was a nice diversion," Decker said. "You want to tell me what's on your mind? We're down to twenty minutes."
"Don't push me."
"Up to you—"
"Stop it!" she screamed. "Stop it! Stop if!"
More silence. The hum in the air suddenly seemed magnified until Apollo brayed and reared.
"What's wrong with him?" Decker asked.
"It's nothing," Lilah pulled back and forth on the reins. "My shouting upset him. He's very sensitive."
She brought the horse under control.
"What did you want to tell me, Lilah?" Decker said.
"I'm too upset."
"Lilah, I haven't got all day. If you feel I'm pushing you, I'll call it quits right now."
"Have it your way!" she said. "Call it quits!"
Peachy, he thought. What a colossal waste of time. He yanked on the reins and turned the horse in the direction of the stable. He kicked the Appaloosa's flanks and High Time broke into a canter. This time, Lilah followed him.
"You know how to ridel"
Decker didn't answer.
"Why did you play stupid if you knew how to ride?"
"How about if I ask the questions, Miss Brecht?" He broke away from her and with a swift set of pulls on the reins forced the animal to reverse directions, racing toward the eucalyptus grove. Galloping along the shaded trails, he wove among tree trunks as if he were barrel racing. Lilah tried to follow him. Apollo was quick—no doubt the animal was stock palomino—but she simply wasn't skilled enough to keep up with him. He left her behind in a mist of dust. High Time rounded each bend as if she had power steering—a horse Decker wouldn't have minded owning. A few minutes later, he slowed and waited for Lilah to catch up with him. He sat back and breathed in the scent of menthol. "You're greatl" she said, breathlessly. "Might as well get a decent ride out of this trip." Apollo reared again, stretching his forelegs so high he was almost vertical.
"Lean forward, Lilah—"
"I know how to handle my own horse!"
But her voice was shaky. The palomino continued to balance
on his hind legs, kicking the branches of the tall trees as he protested.
"You're still too upright. You're going to fall backward."
"I'm trying. It's not that easy bareback."
"Use your thighs," Decker instructed. "Squeeze as hard as you can."
"I'm doing that!"
"Now tighten the reins and give him a kick in the flanks. That should send him forward."
"I'm trying, dammit! He's being obstinate!"
Decker stood on his stirrups, edged High Time closer to the agitated horse, dodging steel-hooved punches. Lilah managed to maintain balance, as Decker squeezed in front of the animal. He leaned over, grabbed Apollo's bit and gave it a sharp tug, forcing the horse forward. Finally settling on all fours, Apollo kicked up dirt and leaves, then paced in circles. Lilah took the reins and once again brought him under control.
"He's really upset about something," Decker said. "Let's go back."
"I'm ready to talk to you now."
"Make it quick. I don't like the way your horse is acting."
"He senses my anxiety."
"Then let's switch horses. I'm not anxious."
"He'll be fine. Better than I'll be. You see, all last night and every waking minute today, I... I've had this dreadful sense that something terrible is going to happen. Something even more horrible than what has already happened. I'm scared out of my wits."
"Lilah, I know you're not going to believe this, but it's normal to feel that way. There'd be something wrong with you if you didn't feel frightened."
"No, no, it's not ordinary fear, Peter. I know because I feel that, too. This... this psychic communication is something different. A prophecy. I am a prophetess and am capable of receiving deep, underworld vibrations. They're straight out of hell. It's just horrifying!" She started to tremble. "Don't you see? It's a warning'. Somehow, you must protect me against these demons!"
Had the rape terrified her to the point of hallucinations? Decker had seen assaults drive normal people literally out of their minds. Lilah was acting like one of them.
"Lilah, I'm going to work really hard to solve your case, but I can't help you ward off your individual demons. If you think
someone's out to get you—and I can't say 1 blame you for feeling that way—hire a bodyguard. Your mother probably knows someone. If not, I'll give you a recommendation." "You don't understand," she implored.
"Lilah—"
"It's bad karma!" Tears streamed down her cheek. "A terrifying sense of doom! Someone is out to get me, Peter. The theft was more than a desire to steal my father's memoirs. It was a desire to rip away everything dear to me. It's a personal vendetta
against me!"
"That's why a bodyguard—"
"No, it won't help. Someone's going to come back and finish me off! My powers tell me this as fact! I'm so frightened!"
Apollo reared up once again, forelegs stretching toward the sun. For a moment, he did a two-foot foxtrot, flanks speckled by beams streaking through the branches, hundreds of golden dots bouncing off his honey-colored coat. Then a thousand pounds' worth of weight came crashing down—dirt, twigs, and leaves spewing in
their faces.
The palomino reared and reared again. Lilah had turned ghastly white as she attempted to hold on. Decker inched closer, but powerful, flailing limbs acted as an effective barrier. Apollo's last motion was a perfect capriole as the horse leaped into the air, hind legs extended, pushing forward, forelegs tucked under.
He landed clumsily, momentarily losing his footing as his left hind leg caught on a surface tree root, stumbling but not falling. Lilah's arms encircled the animal's throat, her grip loosening with each jerk of the horse's head. She had slid up toward his neck and was sitting on the horse's withers. The blanket on his back had tumbled to the ground. Decker moved High Time closer, his extended arm within inches of Apollo's reins. Just as he was about to grab them, Apollo bolted.
Decker dug into High Time's belly and pushed forward at full speed, leaning his body horizontal to the ground, cursing as he maneuvered the Appaloosa around the trees, feeling the razor's edge of low-lying boughs abrade his back. Adrenaline shot through his body, his heart hammering against his chest, his hands shaking. But he was steady enough to guide his horse at strategic moments—a skill that avoided turning him into jelly.
Apollo was charging as if possessed, racing erratically through the trees, clearing branches and dense trunks by inches, tearing
forth beyond his normal capacity. Several times, the horse jumped forward for no reason, nearly decapitating Lilah with a bough. She held tightly, hair flying through the jet stream. Decker forced High Time faster, masses of grit filling his mouth and eyes. He spit, rubbed his eyes on his shoulder, and rode harder, using every single aching muscle to urge the horse on.
The palomino had a six-foot jump on him. Pushing the Appaloosa, Decker managed to keep pace. Lilah's horse couldn't possibly continue at that heart-straining speed. Hopefully the goddamn animal would slow down before he killed her with his kamikaze mission.
High Time was galloping without so much as a slip of the hoof. Good old Aps, nothing upset their footing. But each time the horse maneuvered a particularly difficult path, he was forced to sacrifice speed. Apollo kept widening the distance. Lilah had lost any ounce of control. The palomino was racing to his own evil drummer.
Decker cursed his sense of smugness. Lilah's evil vibrations were no longer a crazy fantasy but a terrifying reality. He could feel sweat drenching his clothes, dripping off his forehead as he pressed forward. He could feel the horror gripping his b
ody. Yet he knew his fear couldn't possibly be as strong as Lilah's. As fast as he was riding, Decker knew he had control: that he could stop at any moment. Lilah had no such comfort as the palomino kept running at a maniacal pace. If only he could catch up to the sucker—a herculean task, but he was determined not to fail. He bunched his shoulder, dug deep into High Time's flanks, and drove the Appaloosa to her max.
Trees whizzed by as the horses continued at their frenetic pace. The branches above split his airstream, blowing wind onto the back of his wet neck. Swooshing sounds pounded in his ears, dirt sprayed his eyes. A kaleidoscope of nature's colors raced past him. Greens, rusts, browns, objects losing their form, relegated to a blur. Everything around him was a deadly weapon—a tree, a branch, a fence, the telephone pole that popped out of nowhere. Even a small clod of dirt could cause the horses to stumble, throwing them onto the ground at fifty miles per hour.
Ahead was a four-foot hedge running across the path—a natural hurdle, but you didn't do jumps at this kind of speed. There was no place to circumvent the shrubbery. Not that he had any choice. Where Apollo went, so did he. The palomino made the
leap but shaved the bush's top with his hooves. The Appaloosa followed suit, clearing the bush completely and gaining a little distance from the leap. The palomino regained his footing and sprinted forward.
But not quite as fast as before.
Hope flooded Decker's body. He knew he was gaining ground. He could feel the palomino's tailwind in his face.
Harder!
Creeping up on the left side, inching closer and closer. Hooves clopping against the dry, dusty ground. Dirt blinding his sight. Blinking it out. Blinking and blinking!
Closer!
The clumps of trees grew thinner, the foliage turned sparse. The sun became brighter and hotter as the horses came out of the protective shade of the woodlands. A few moments later, Decker was elated to see unencumbered land straight ahead. As the palomino broke toward open space, Decker felt his head throb, hope quashed as mountains, previously obscured by the treetops, suddenly jumped into view. An indestructible wall of granite closing in on them. Lilah screamed, her wails echoing as the rocky hillside grew in height and mass. Only minutes left... Harder and harder!
Inches behind Apollo's flanks, up to his flanks, up to his belly. The animals, finally neck and neck, nose and nose, the bodies so close they seemed harnessed together. Each step a choreographed death-defying dance, hooves missing each other by fractions of
an inch.
Decker pulled ahead while looking backward. Lilah's complexion was gray, arms clamped around the neck of the palomino.
The mountains coming upon them with horrific clarity!
Now or never. He screamed as loud as he could:
"Lilah, jump to me on the count of three!"
"You won't catch me! You won't catch me!"
"There's no fucking choice! One! Two! Three!"
Lilah remained frozen and wide-eyed.
"Jump—"
"I can't!"
"Jump now!"
"I_"
"Goddamn it, Lilah! Jump! Jump! JUMP!"
She catapulted to the left as Decker's arm snaked around her waist and squeezed her tightly. He yanked the reins to the right, clearing the mountainside by at least six feet, but was still close enough to catch the blood spatter as the palomino crashed headfirst
into stone.
It was only a horse...
Little comfort when looking at remains. The poor thing's head had been smashed to pulp, yet its coat was still soaked with sweat
from its run.
Decker removed the camera from around his neck. He thought about calling down a police photographer but couldn't justify the expense in his mind. It wasn't a person, it was a horse. And as far as the case went, was this really an attempted murder or merely a domesticated animal going berserk? Regardless of what it was, the ordeal had to have reinforced Lilah's sense of omniscience. The incident began to make Decker wonder as well.
Lilah as a prophetess of doom... what would Rabbi Schulman
say about that?
He rolled up his sleeves and snapped a full body shot, bent down and took some close-ups—the impact point of animal versus stone. He focused on the blood-spattered ground. The sun was strong and he had to shield his eyes from the glare given off by the white rocks. Heat waves shimmied up from the ground, insects hummed in his face. He batted them away and thought about Carl Totes. The ranch hand knew Lilah's habits, knew which of the six horses she was likely to ride. He had access, he could easily obtain means—some drug to alter the horse's behavior. What could possibly be his motive? If Lilah were dead, his days at the ranch would be numbered. Decker couldn't imagine any of the clan keeping him on. He couldn't imagine any one of the greedy bunch holding
the ranch, period. They impressed Decker as the "liquidate the assets just as soon as the body's buried" kind.
Maybe Totes had been hired by someone to kill his boss. But it was damn near impossible to picture Totes lifting a finger against Lilah. His affection for her was nothing short of idol worship. Decker thought about the look on Totes's face when he'd brought Lilah back to the stables. As he explained what had happened, Totes's nutmeg skin had blanched, a genuine expression of shock and fear.
Despite all that, Decker wasn't quite ready to proclaim the ranch hand innocent. He was the only one—besides Lilah—who'd been around this morning. Of course, someone could have sneaked in and done the dirty work. But Totes was never far from the stables—hell, he lived in one of the stalls. Surely he would have noticed a trespasser.
Decker checked his watch. Two hours since the horse did a kamikaze, but the heat was already doing a number on the animal's body. He took another full-body shot.
Totes and Lilah...
Lilah. Lilah monkeying with her own horse?
But why?
For attention... maybe even his attention. Maybe she'd liked being rescued the first time. Maybe this was a weak attempt to relive it.
Except that she didn't know he could ride. And she had been legitimately terrified.
Decker heard sneakers scraping against the dirt and stood. Some kid was running toward him at full speed.
Swell. Someone new to muck up the works.
The kid turned out to be a man in his twenties. He stopped short, almost crashing into the face of the mountain, not the least bit winded by a sprint in hundred-degree heat. He was sweated up but smelled minty fresh. His eyes went to the dead horse.
"My God, what happened?"
"Who are you?" Decker asked.
"Oh, Christ, that's right. We've never met." The guy stuck out his hand. "Mike Ness. I work at the spa—aerobics and weight training. I talked to the other one... Detective Dunn, was it?"
"Yeah, it was." Decker shook Ness's hand and caught his eye. They squared off. "Still is, as a matter of fact."
A slow smile spread across Ness's face. "You have a finely tuned bullshit detector. Is it from years of experience or were you born
like that?"
"You're good, Mike. Clever but cocky. It's going to trip you
up one day."
Ness shrugged. Decker studied Ness's face. Dots of sweat patterned his upper lip. Dark hair, blue eyes, a James Dean pout—a pretty boy except he needed a shave. But maybe that was part of his look, a deliberate attempt to make a sweet face appear more masculine. Decker touched his own cheeks. He could do with a razor himself.
"So who invited you down, Mike?"
"No one. I just popped in to do some harvesting for the kitchen. Zucchini. We've already got a couple of baseball bats growing on the vine. We'll stuff and slice those, but Lilah likes them small. Actually they're bitter when they're small, but the guests love the mini veggies. We also wilt the blossoms and toss them in our salads served with a pungent vinaigrette. That really knocks the ladies' socks off."
"Aerobics instructor, weight lifter, vegetable picker, and culinary expert. You're a regular jack
-of-all-trades."
Decker pulled out a cigarette out of his pocket. The kid had a light waiting before he could put the smoke in his mouth. Decker blew out the match.
"I just chew on them."
"Trying to quit? We've got a wonderful program for that at
the spa."
"You're an awfully devoted employee. Anything in it for you
if the boss kicks suddenly?"
Faye Kellerman - Decker 05 - False Prophet Page 19