She laughed. “Not quite. This was a four-and-half-foot jumper course.”
Next, he watched her fly over something that looked like a brick wall. “Is that as high as they go?” Dear god, he hoped so.
She shook her head. “No, grand prix events have fences over five feet tall and can be wider than six feet, in some cases. This was a big class for someone my age, but not the biggest.”
Drew watched her clear the last fence again and this time she let the video continue on to another event. In this one, she was riding a big gray horse. Carly wasn’t petite, but she looked tiny perched on the beast’s back. And from the first jump, he could see the difference in this animal versus the one he’d just watched. The first horse, big and brown, had seemed focused and calm. This massive gray beast looked like a teenager who would rather be out partying.
As he watched, the horse let out a buck after the first fence. The move had his heart rate kicking up; he glanced at Carly. She was smiling at the sight. He frowned. Horses were a different world, but he had a hard time believing she could be smiling about almost being dumped from an animal that clearly had more important things on its mind than its rider.
His eyes turned back to the screen to see Carly sitting up in the saddle trying to wrangle the horse through a turn. The horse’s head came up and its body seemed to be bouncing up and down more than moving forward. But somehow she managed to get the beast focused on the next fence and they both made it over.
Unfortunately, the next jump had different results. Drew watched Carly pick up speed as she headed toward a fence that didn’t look very big. He didn’t know why she would need so much speed for something that didn’t compare, height wise, to what she’d already jumped, but the move was clearly intentional, she had a plan. Only it was a plan the horse didn’t seem to agree with. About six feet in front the fence, the gray simply stopped. Physics and gravity took over and Carly went sailing over the animal’s head.
As he watched her land in a heap on the dirt of the arena floor, Drew felt as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Transfixed, he stared, willing her to get up. Again, he knew it was ridiculous, but still, watching her lie helpless on the ground was not how he’d planned to spend the remainder of his evening.
After what felt like an eternity, she rose. Dusting the dirt from her white pants, she watched as someone brought her horse back; the cheeky animal had gone for a run around the arena once its rider had been dislodged. Carly and the helper shared a few words, then she raised her hand and acknowledged someone, a judge maybe, and led her horse from the arena.
He turned to look at her again. “You could have been killed.”
Again, she smiled. “Yes, that wasn’t one of my more graceful dismounts, but Athena was worth it.”
“Athena?”
“The mare I was riding. That was a water jump. They’re very wide, which is why I picked up so much speed. She’d decided that day that water wasn’t her thing. But when she was on, she was really on. She was one of the most talented jumpers I ever rode.”
“Um, she didn’t look like it.” He found it hard to believe that the beast was anything other than a killer waiting for an opportunity.
“She was moody,” was all Carly said. He watched as a soft smile stole across her features, the kind of smile he hadn’t seen from her before. He stared at her, at the look of raw joy and memories reflected in her eyes, then he turned his attention back to the screen.
For several minutes he watched her younger self take another round over a series of jumps, again on Athena. But this time, the horse looked completely different. The gray, light on her feet, looked intent on attacking every fence, and even he could see how tuned in to Carly she was—turning corners, taking smaller strides or longer ones, speeding up, and slowing down. The round was entirely different than the first one he’d watched. And when her score flashed on the screen, the video cut right into another round.
“This is the jump off,” Carly said.
“The what?” he asked as Carly and the mare circled on the screen.
“The jump off. For the riders who go clean—meaning, we didn’t knock any rails down or have time penalties—we go into a jump off. It’s a much shorter, tighter course and the fastest time with no rails wins. Or if there aren’t any clean rounds, the person with the least penalties wins.”
Her explanation hadn’t taken more than a few seconds, but by the time she’d finished, she was clearing the second jump. For the next forty seconds—according to the ticking clock on the screen—he watched the pair make seemingly impossible turns, launch over fences, and gallop around the arena. When the round was over, a score of first place flashed on the screen.
“You won.”
“I did,” she replied softly. He could her the pride still lingering in her voice, even after all these years. She rewound the DVD and played it again.
“You loved this, didn’t you?” he asked as he watched her start the same round.
“I did,” she said. He rather suspected she should have answered “I do.”
“It was like flying. No, that’s not entirely true. There’s something, well,” she paused. “That day, that round,” she said with nod toward the screen, “Athena and I were of the same mind, we wanted the same thing, we were speaking the same language. Do you have any idea how powerful that is? To have that kind of connection with something? It’s nearly impossible to find with another person, someone who speaks the same language, but then to find it with an animal? It changes you, it changes the way you see the world. There’s a rush in it to be sure, but beyond that, having that kind of trust between two animals is a bond that can’t be broken and that feeling is something we riders seek over and over again, almost like a drug. Yes, we want to win, but more than that, I think, in all our hearts, we want that indescribable feeling of being connected, of being part of a team.”
Her eyes hadn’t strayed from the screen as she spoke and when she finished he glanced back to the image on the TV as well. Her score flashed again and the round was over. Looking back at Carly, he saw that she was still smiling, still remembering that day all those years ago. Watching her, sitting not four feet from where he sat, he had no doubt that she remembered exactly what she’d felt that day.
He wondered if she might ask him if he had ever felt anything like what she had described, but studying her face, he realized her own memories, memories she probably hadn’t let herself experience in years, had drawn her to a different place. A place that had nothing to do with him. And he was grateful for that.
Because he hadn’t. He hadn’t ever felt the kind of freedom and connection and power she talked about. Yes, he’d had some good moments, moments when he’d pulled off something that seemed impossible and, yes, he’d experienced an adrenaline rush. But he hadn’t ever felt anything like what she’d described, especially knowing that words, as powerful as they could be, probably didn’t even begin to describe her actual experience.
For the next hour or so, they sat in companionable silence and watched. He watched her riding different kinds of horses, even some ponies. Some of her rounds were high and fast but some were slower paced with lower fences and seemed to be focused on something other than speed—though what that was, he didn’t know. Someday he’d ask, but for now, he was content just to share the evening with her.
After the DVD ran out, he looked over to find her asleep. With a small smile, he rose, climbed her stairs, and pulled the comforter off her bed. After coming back down and laying it over the throw blanket she’d already draped over herself, he turned off the television and all the lights but one, and slid into his coat.
With one last look at her, he set the alarm and quietly left.
Chapter Eighteen
Carly awoke with a start the next morning. It took her a moment to realize she was on her couch with her comforter sprawled on top of her. She glanced at the chair where she’d last seen Drew to find it empty. She had no doubt he’d set the alarm behind
him when he’d left.
As she sat up, her eyes fell on the horse competition DVD cases sprawled in front of the TV and something niggled at her brain. She sat quietly to see if it would form into a full-fledged thought. Before it had the opportunity though, her phone rang.
Picking the device up from the table, she sighed when the number popped up. One of the part-time officers—no doubt calling to check in after her night on duty. Carly gave a little prayer of thanks that Vic had decided to make an offer to Josie and made a note to herself to ask him when she would start. Pushing aside dreams of less-busy days, she hit the answer button as she made her way upstairs to shower and change for work.
Forty-five minutes later, she hung her jacket on the back of her desk chair and took a seat. With the two night-duty officers signed out, and Marcus and one other part-time officer on for the day, she pulled out the incident reports from the night before as well as those from the few days she’d been out.
“Hey,” Marcus said as he walked into her office. “Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
She knew that he was really asking if Drew had kept her up, so she shot him a look before motioning for him to shut the door. He shut it then sat down in the chair across from her.
“Have you heard anything new?” she asked.
“You haven’t talked to anyone today?”
She shook her head. “No, is there something I should know?”
“Not that I know of. I was asking because I haven’t heard anything either.”
“So, we’re waiting to find out if the bullets will tell us anything, Naomi is still checking on Repetto, and they’re digging into the boat rental,” Carly said, mostly to herself, as she sat back in her chair. She didn’t bother hiding the frustration hounding her.
“And the number,” Marcus added. “Also, there’s something we need to talk about.” He shifted in his seat.
“Number?” she asked, ignoring the second part of his comment for the moment.
“The number Wyatt found on the earrings,” he reminded her.
And then it hit her—not what the numbers meant, but the thought that had danced in her head earlier. It had just come at her full force.
“What?” Marcus asked, obviously sensing her change of focus.
“I don’t know, it might be nothing.”
“It’s not as if you’re going to be wasting my time by talking about it. I’m not going out on patrol for another thirty minutes.”
“The number. I think it might have something to do with horses,” she said.
“Horses?” He didn’t hide his skepticism.
“Yes, think about it. What did mom’s life consist of? Us, horses, and her friends. If the number doesn’t have anything to do with us, maybe it has something to do with horses, something she thought one of us might recognize if we saw it.”
“You think it was a message to us? Or you, to be more precise, since my knowledge of what you guys did in the barn was limited to noticing how attractive the female working students she hired were.” For the first time in a long time, Carly caught her brother giving a glimpse of a smile for a good memory from back then.
“I think it’s a possibility. Don’t you?”
“I suppose, but you don’t recognize it, do you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t. But I’ve been out of that world for a long time and have intentionally forgotten most of it. If I’d seen the number back then, it may have been different.”
“So, what do you propose?”
She rose and reached for her jacket. “Let’s go up and talk to Trudy White. She might know.”
“She manages a racing barn,” Marcus pointed out, but rose as well. “Racing horses is a completely different thing than what you and Mom did.”
Carly smiled as she slid her arms into her jacket and grabbed her keys. “See, you remember more than you think about our horse operation. And you’re right, it is different. But remember, until she moved up here, Trudy spent most of her time on the same circuit I used to ride. She’s closer to it and may recognize the numbers.”
Marcus gave her a non-committal response but followed her out to her cruiser. Once inside it, she flipped on the wipers as they headed west of town. A cold front had moved in, along with rain clouds, and in just a few day’s time the brilliant colors of fall had faded almost entirely, turning a monochrome yellow. Within the next few weeks, those leaves that were still clinging to their branches would fall onto the green fields before being covered by snow after a month or so—assuming there was snow at Thanksgiving this year. Even with the muted colors, she found beauty in the rolling hills and appreciated the way the land seemed to be preparing itself, much like people did, for the change in season.
“Have you ever been up to Trudy’s barn?” Marcus asked.
Keeping her eyes on the road, Carly nodded. “A few years ago they had a break-in, but I haven’t been up since.” She made a left turn onto a hard-packed gravel road heading up a hill toward the farm. Within seconds it felt like they’d been transported back in time—as it often did around Windsor—with nothing but rolling hills, a gravel road, and an occasional home or barn visible down a long driveway. If she’d seen the hunt ride by—and they did have an active hunt in the county—the only thing that would have reminded her what era they were in would have been the fact that the women now wore britches and no longer rode side saddle.
“You?” she asked.
Marcus shook his head. “No, not to the barn. I’ve met Trudy in town a few times, though. She introduced me to John Green Sr. and John Green Jr., the owner and his son.”
Carly smiled.
“What?”
“I guess I never realized they were Trudy White and John Green. I wonder if there is a Colonel Mustard or Miss Scarlet involved in the enterprise too.”
Marcus chuckled. “I hadn’t ever thought of it that way either. But, with everything else going on, maybe we shouldn’t be looking for similarities to a game of unsolved murders.”
Carly gave a small laugh as she turned onto the driveway of Birch Hill Racing. “No, you’re probably right.”
However, as the road climbed a gentle hill and the massive owner’s house came into view, she heard Marcus suck in a breath. Because even in an area that hosted many large summer and weekend homes for the wealthy of New York, Birch Hill was quite a sight. Sitting off to the right of the drive and up another hill, the massive stone home, with a grand staircase leading to its wrap-around veranda, looked more like something to be found in Newport, Rhode Island, than Windsor.
“But, then again,” Marcus said, letting the rest of his comment hang. Birch Hill would be the perfect location to shoot a sequel to the movie Clue.
“I know,” she said, acknowledging the overwhelming nature of the building. “But we’re not headed there. Trudy’s place is on the other side of the barn and, chances are, that’s where she is.”
They made their way past the drive leading up to the main house and toward the large whitewashed barn. Horses grazed in the fields to their left, and in the distance they could see one bend of the practice track that lay behind the main barn and to the right. It was perfectly situated for the owners to be able to watch the training through binoculars from their porch.
Giving a wide berth to a semi-truck-sized horse trailer, Carly pulled into a spot next to a newer-model diesel pick-up. As she climbed from her car and shut the door behind her, she paused to take in the trailer. She hadn’t seen one up close in years, but she knew well that it was getting prepped to ship horses somewhere warm for the coming winter. It would be loaded with hay, grain, supplements, buckets, water, blankets, and tack. The horses would be bundled, wrapped, and, depending on their temperament and what they were going to be doing when they arrived at their destination, possibly given a mild sedative. Then they would be tucked into their stalls, the ramp lifted, and the door shut before the truck began its journey south.
She’d forgotten how many times she’d done the
same thing with her own horses. She’d forgotten how much she’d known about every horse ever loaded onto her trailer. She’d forgotten what it was like to feel the excitement of opportunity—wondering if the show would be successful, if she would win, if her young horse would have a good experience. No matter how many times she’d loaded a trailer for a trip, she’d always had a sense of hope, of wonder.
“You okay?” Marcus asked, coming to stand beside her. She blinked, realizing she must have been standing there for a while.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said as she turned away from the trailer and led Marcus toward the barn.
“Carly, Marcus, over here!” Trudy’s voice called from what looked like a hay shed.
Carly glanced at her brother and they followed Trudy’s voice.
“Sorry, I’m in the middle of getting some of this hay sorted for the trip,” Trudy said once they’d found her atop the stacked bales. She turned away to give directions to one of the barn hands, directing him to take several bales to the trailer and several to the main barn.
Jumping down, she wiped her hands on her jeans then held her right one out to shake both their hands. “Sorry for the chaos. We’re getting ready to ship our yearlings down to northern Florida to start their training in the new year.”
“No problem.” Carly couldn’t help but smile as she shook Trudy’s hand. She knew just how much work organizing such an endeavor required, and even so, she’d heard affection in Trudy’s voice when she’d mentioned the yearlings—like she was referring to her own children. And in that subtext, Carly recognized a kindred spirit—horse-people were born, not made.
“What can I help you with? And do you mind if we walk and talk? I need to get the trailer loaded so they can head out by noon.” Trudy didn’t bother to wait for an answer and started toward the main barn.
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