Dylan technically should not even know about it, but he’d learned of Reynard’s past conviction from a confidential police contact in Darwin. The news had piqued his interest in the man. According to Dylan’s Darwin contact, Reynard had lived a transient existence, and was a bit of a con artist who’d had several minor run-ins with the law. Then all of a sudden, after his slate had been wiped clean, he’d dropped off the radar.
Dylan’s source had found it impossible to get anything more on Reynard from that point.
But Dylan had managed to ascertain from Tyler Preston that the Lafayettes came from a low-income background, and that Marie had worked at a hotel in Darwin until her mother had died recently—just before she’d moved to New South Wales to join her uncle.
“The Hunter is a long way from the Northern Territory,” Dylan offered. “Why leave Darwin to come here?”
Reynard’s eyes flicked ever so slightly to the right. “Look, mate, I resent this line of interrogation. I’ve told you coppers everything I know. I didn’t see anything that night, and I know my rights. I don’t have to answer any more of your questions.”
“It would make your employer happy if you did,” Dylan said. “The Prestons want this resolved as much as I do. Your head trainer Daniel Whittleson’s father died here. If you have any information that—”
His eyes narrowed sharply. “I’ve said my piece, Sergeant. And you go harassing my niece, I’ll hear about it, and I’ll have her speak to that Fairchild lawyer. You’ll be hearing from him then.”
He turned his back on Dylan, dropped down onto his haunches, and poured more paint into the tray.
A Fairchild groom led a blinkered Anthem up a small ramp into a horse trailer emblazoned with the big red-and-bronze Fairchild logo. The smoky-white mare’s tail and legs had been carefully wrapped, and the vet had given Megan the horse’s medical file, which she’d pass on to the Fairchild veterinary consultant as soon as they arrived at Louisa’s.
A driver waited inside the cab of the truck, ready to leave as soon as Anthem was loaded. Megan was busy thanking the vet when she saw Dylan in his uniform approaching under the gum trees. Her heart did a silly little tumble as she smiled and gave a quick wave.
She and Dylan had consulted Tyler together about moving the horse, and Tyler had expressed surprise that Louisa had actually offered stabling and veterinary care for Anthem. He’d told Megan that Fairchild was the only farm that had not offered to take in horses after the fire. He’d explained that even though Louisa did business with Lochlain, a latent animosity still ran deep between Fairchild Acres and Lochlain Racing because of Louisa’s bitter feud with Sam.
Daniel Whittleson, Lochlain’s head trainer, had naturally supported his dad in his rights battle over Lake Dingo, knowing full well that losing the water would send his debt-ridden father and the stud farm under, leaving Louisa to buy the land cheap. No one else would want it without water.
Louisa had also thrown her very vocal support behind Jackson “Jacko” Bullock in the race for presidency of the International Thoroughbred Racing Federation.
Tyler’s cousin from Kentucky, Andrew Preston, was running neck and neck with Bullock, and Louisa seemed to feel Andrew’s association with the Lochlain–Whittleson camp was reason enough to badmouth him. She’d made a big deal in the media about Andrew being a Yank, and not of true-blue Australian stock. She’d said the time had come for the international association to have a dinkum Aussie at the helm, someone who could finally bring their country-specific issues to the fore.
This information about Louisa had unsettled Megan.
There was so much about her great-aunt not to like, yet she still sensed that a buried compassion ran deep inside her—a mysterious side to Louisa that Megan was driven to connect with. Or was she just so desperate for a sense of family and belonging that she was looking for something where there was nothing?
Dylan came up to Megan and placed his hand proprietarily at her waist. Heat shimmered instantly through her. “Ready?” he asked.
More than he knew. “Good to go,” she said with a light smile.
He thanked the vet and guided Megan to the cab of the truck, pausing at the passenger door. “I’m not good at this, Megan.”
She looked up into his clear eyes, blue as the sky behind him. “Good at what?”
“Being indebted to a woman.”
She grinned. “You got something against a woman being in control, Sarge?”
His features darkened, and his eyes turned serious. “I saw you control that horse, Megan. You tricked him into thinking he was in charge, that your will was his.”
“It wasn’t a trick,” she said quietly. “Riding a horse like Breaking Free is about trust, not trickery. You each have to give up something, and allow yourself to become vulnerable because of it, but in return you become stronger as a unit.”
“Trust can get a cop killed, Megan.”
“I was talking about a horse, Sergeant.”
He smiled wryly and opened the passenger door for her. “I’ll follow you and the trailer in my squad car.”
She hesitated, glanced over her shoulder. “Do you mind if I ride with you?” she said, lowering her voice. “I just learned something from one of the grooms that I think you should know.”
Megan shifted in the car seat to face him. “Reynard Lafayette has been getting a regular and seriously hefty paycheck under the table, and it’s not from Lochlain Racing.”
Dylan’s eyes whipped to hers, his hands tensing slightly on the wheel of his squad car as they followed the horse rig. “Who did you get this from?”
“The groom who helped me load Anthem.”
“Go on.”
“He said the guy who bunks with Reynard is a bit of a snoop, and when he saw Reynard was hiding something under his mattress, he figured Reynard was into porn, or something. So he took a peek while Reynard was out. He found pay stubs from a numbered company. Reynard is getting a regular monthly income from somewhere, and the groom said the gossip is that he’s on someone’s payroll.”
“How come this groom told you this, Megan?”
“Maybe he trusted me.”
Dylan threw her a look, and saw she was smiling, toying with him.
“You chatted him up, didn’t you? You batted those pretty green eyes at him?”
“Are you jealous, Sergeant?”
He returned his attention to the road, but his neck muscles were tight.
Damn. When had he gotten so anal?
They drove in silence for a while, just the occasional static and chatter on his police radio as they followed the horse trailer.
Dylan stole another quick glance at her as they turned into Fairchild Acres and followed the rig in a dust cloud up the long driveway before branching off onto a narrow farm road and heading for some old stables down near the river.
He had a bad feeling being here on Louisa’s farm, his daughter’s horse in that trailer up ahead, Megan in his squad car. He was getting in way too deep. Yet it was helping his investigation—the information she’d just given him was invaluable.
He might be able to convince a magistrate to authorize a warrant to access Reynard’s accounts.
If he could trace the numbered company back to Louisa, he could then get a court order to look into her finances and payroll records. Damn, he really needed a full task force on this.
He also needed to interrogate Marie Lafayette. But he wasn’t going to be able to get at her without a warrant.
“I could talk to Marie if you like.”
His eyes flashed to hers. She’d been watching him, reading his thoughts. He cleared his throat. “It’s better if you stay out of this now, Megan.”
“Why?”
He exhaled sharply. “It is a homicide investigation. I shouldn’t be sharing this with you. I shouldn’t have let you in this far.”
Frustration glittered in her eyes. “I am in this far, Dylan. This was my information. I didn’t have to tell you.”
His jaw tightened as the car bounced over a rough section of road, dust billowing behind them.
She sighed and slumped back into the seat. “You’re a stubborn ass, you know that?” she muttered.
He ignored her. “Why are you stabling Anthem all the way down here by the river, anyway?” he asked a little too curtly, changing the subject as they pulled to a stop beside the rig, parked near the water.
“It’s quiet,” she snapped she climbed out of his squad car, slamming the door.
He watched her stomp over to the trailer, her bush boots dusty, not a stitch of makeup, ponytail sashaying provocatively across her back, her faded jeans hugging her butt. She looked capable, earthy, and more than anything he wanted to make love to her. Right now, down by the willows in the warm sun.
He slammed his own door shut and followed her.
“I didn’t want to put Anthem anywhere near Breaking Free or the Thoroughbreds,” she called over her shoulder, still angry. “They’re way too highly strung.”
He caught up with her as the groom led Anthem down the small ramp. “Thank you,” she said, taking the rope from the groom.
She turned to Dylan, speaking softly now that she was close to the horse. “She needs a completely stress-free environment, and the sound of the river and the trees down here will be good for her.”
He walked beside her as she led Anthem to her new paddock. “No one has used this place for a while so it’s pretty peaceful,” she said. “I’ve had the fences repaired, and I had an old pony brought down here for company, a real mothering sort. She’ll have a calming effect on Anthem.”
Dylan hung over the fence and watched as Megan hand-walked Anthem round the paddock. The groom and driver had left with the trailer, and it was just the two of them and the horses, the wind rustling softly in the willow and pepper-tree branches, the autumn sun warm on his back.
Anthem was literally relaxing in front of his eyes, tension seeping out of her neck muscles and haunches. Even the way the mare held her head showed a growing confidence. He could see Megan was relaxing, too, and Dylan was once again struck by what this woman was doing for his daughter. He was indebted to her, growing more so by the minute. Something close to panic began to whisper through him—he had to step back, draw the line with Megan, but part of him knew it was too late, that he’d gone too far.
“I think it’s working,” Megan said, dusting her hands against her thighs as she came out of the stall where she’d settled Anthem. “I’ll walk her like that a couple of times a day.” She swung her long legs over the fence and dropped down beside him.
“Looks labor intensive,” he said.
“The vet says it’s one of the best things we can do for Anthem’s anxiety and depression. Hand-walking provides the physical exercise and release all horses need, but without any accompanying psychological demand. Louisa’s vet will monitor the physical side of things, but Heidi and I can work on ameliorating her mental stress. Just being away from the fire scene and the memories will help. I think we can make her well.”
He looked down into her eyes. “You sure you want to do this?”
“I’m on vacation, Dylan. My gallery stuff is on hold for a few weeks so I have the time, and yes, I do want to do this.” She hesitated, taking in the trees, the river, the farm. “I forgot this part of myself—how much I get from being out on the land, with animals.”
“What about the city? That’s your thing.”
She gave him a wry smile. “What would you know about what my thing is?”
“Well, you are going back.”
She looked puzzled by his comment. “Well, yes, my life is there,” she said. “My job, my friends, my home, everything.”
And he had to remember that, he thought as they walked along the river toward his car. He stopped suddenly under a willow, and she did too, that sexual awareness strumming between them again as the dry leaves rustled. But it was different this time. Edgier.
She was watching his mouth, and he became acutely aware of the sound of the water bubbling over small rocks, the breeze lifting fine tendrils of her hair about her face. Time seemed to grow elastic, stretching, long, warm, and he felt himself stir between the thighs. He lifted his hand, burning to touch her, but he rubbed his jaw instead. “I should get going.”
But she reached up suddenly, placed her palm against the fine stubble along his jaw, and he felt himself melt inside “Megan—” His voice came out hoarse.
She moved closer, and panic resurfaced. His mind screamed to take her, rip off her clothes and make love to her under the willows. But he grabbed her wrist suddenly, a little too harshly, and moved her hand away from his face, his heart thudding hard. “Megan,” he said again, voice low, thick. “I…I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
Shock and hurt flared in her gorgeous clear eyes. “It’s okay,” she said, glancing away, embarrassed.
“Look at me, Megan.”
She swallowed, turned slowly back to meet his eyes. His heart twisted at the raw emotion he saw there.
“You need to know something about me, Megan. I don’t do half measures. I don’t mess around. I…I can’t.” He blew out a hard breath of air. “I’m a lifer.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I can tell.”
It was what made him special, thought Megan. Different from all the others she’d met and dated.
And he was warning her, right now, right here, that if she wanted to play this game, she was going to have to be prepared to go all the way. To commit.
And it just turned her on even more.
But was she ready for this?
He was right. She did have another life. A job. One she had to go back to, and fairly soon.
Was she just messing with his emotions? With Heidi’s feelings? With her own? Had she made a terrible mistake already getting in too deep?
It wasn’t as if she’d really had a choice. It had just happened. And now she was on the cusp—a point that required a decision one way or the other. And she didn’t know which way to go.
The radio on his belt crackled.
His eyes held hers a moment, daring her to cross that line. Then he keyed his radio, turning away from her as he answered his call.
It was dispatch. There’d been an incident on the highway. He told them he was on his way.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, turning back to her.
She wanted to tell him to be careful, but she just nodded.
He hung back a moment, willing her to change her mind, to say something.
But she couldn’t find the words.
“Thank you,” he said curtly. “For doing this for Heidi. And for cooperating in the investigation.”
He’d just drawn his line in the sand, she thought, making it clear that her efforts were for his child, for the case, and not for him personally. Not unless she was prepared to play his game. To cross that line.
He waited another beat. Then his eyes shuttered, and he was once again all cool cop. He turned, walked up to his squad car, and opened the door.
A soft panic threatened to overwhelm her.
“Dylan, wait!” she called out, running after him. “What…what happened with Louisa in the past? Will you just tell me why you hate her so much? Why this is all so personal.”
He studied her for a long moment. A flock of lorikeets darted through the willow branches, unsettling her with sharp screeches. “It was an old court case, Megan, one that involved…some people I knew.” He was guarded. His eyes had the same flat inscrutability she’d seen when they’d first squared off over that table in the interrogation room.
“Your aunt footed the bill for an unethical legal defense,” he said. “For someone who didn’t deserve it, someone who was guilty of a terrible crime.”
“Who?” She was deeply curious now. “What defense?”
He glanced up at the smoky Koongorra hills. “It’s in the past.”
“I don’t think so, Dylan.”
He said nothing. Then g
ot into his squad car and drove off in a cloud of farm dust.
He’d just cut her out, and it hurt like all hell.
But she hadn’t been able to cross that line in the sand, either.
She hadn’t been able to make the move, and now he was gone.
Phone held to his ear with his shoulder, Dylan flipped a burger on the barbecue, still steamed about the way he’d handled things with Megan down at the river.
Breaking Free (Thoroughbred Legacy #10) Page 13