HIS PARTNER'S WIFE

by Janice Kay Johnson

  A harsh sound emerged from John's throat. Okay, he'd just made up a hell of a good story. Probably Natalie was having breakfast with a friend, and Baxter was buying his wife a surprise birthday present.

  But John wanted to see the horse with his own two eyes and know that it hadn't been moved.

  Then he might even get a laugh out of his own fiction.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  « ^

  "I don't understand," Natalie said stupidly.

  "Half of that dumb animal's price is mine." Geoff Baxter gave an unpleasant laugh. "Now I figure all of it is mine. If Stuart wanted you to have half, he shouldn't have tried to cheat me."

  Her hand slackened on the lead, and Foxfire tossed his head so that his mane flew. Heart drumming, Natalie regained a firmer grasp.

  "We're friends." Another dumb thing to say.

  So dumb, he ignored it.

  "What was wrong with a bank account?" he asked.

  He probably didn't want or expect an answer, but she gave one anyway. "Banks report unusually large deposits."

  "If this damn horse broke his leg, it would all be gone."

  Horses could be insured, she knew, but she hadn't seen any paperwork to indicate that Stuart had taken out a policy on Foxfire.

  Maybe he had enjoyed gambling. No, playing with fire she thought, semihysterically.

  "Load the horse," he said.

  John, where are you? she thought desperately. If only he could hear her.

  She swallowed. "Foxfire doesn't load easily."

  His voice rose. "Walk the damned horse into the trailer. Now!"

  He wouldn't risk shooting Foxfire, would he? She shortened the lead rope, backing toward the stallion. If she could get on his far side…

  "Oh, no, you don't," he said sharply. "Bring him over here."

  From the other end of the barn aisle, Pam Reynolds called, "Natalie? Is that you?"

  Geoff's gun hand jerked. "Who is that?"

  "She owns the stable."

  "Tell her you're sorry, you're moving the horse. Tell her you sold him. Just get rid of her."

  Natalie said in a low, urgent voice, "She'll want to help load him."

  He was sweating, twitchy. "If she sees me, or you say a word to her that you shouldn't, she's dead. Don't think I'd hesitate."

  Natalie took a deep breath. "It's me, Pam. Don't worry."

  The older woman strode down the sawdust-covered aisle. "You're not dressed for a ride."

  "No, I'm…" Foxfire danced sideways. Her arms were beginning to ache from struggling to hold him and she teetered uncomfortably on the clogs. "I meant to call you last night and forgot. I'm taking him to a place over near Stanwood for some training. I'll feel safer riding him once he's had some more schooling."

  Pam Reynolds paused before she emerged from the shadowy barn. She sounded taken aback. "But you haven't said anything. I didn't know you were thinking about looking for a trainer."

  Natalie stole a look at Geoff, standing so that the trailer blocked Pam from seeing him. He held the gun pointed right at Natalie's chest. A muscle spasmed beneath one of his eyes.

  Don't come out, Natalie begged her friend silently. Please don't come out.

  Trying to sound careless, she said, "I asked if you were willing to ride him. Since you weren't…"

  Pam's face became expressionless. "You did agree to give notice before you take your horse from the stable."

  "I'll pay for the month."

  Waggling the gun, Geoff mouthed, "Get rid of her."

  "If you'll excuse me now," Natalie said. "Foxfire is getting antsy."

  Pam started forward. "Let me help you load him."

  "No!" Foxfire danced in another circle, rump toward the detective. Natalie thought briefly, wildly, about making a run for it, but the stallion kept going, exposing her to the line of fire. What good would it do, anyway? The farm was deserted but for the two women and the man who would hunt them down and kill them. "No," she said again. "You're upsetting him. I'll do better alone, if I just take my time."

  Pam checked. "You're sure?"

  "Yes." She couldn't bear it if this nice woman was gunned down in front of her because of Stuart's sins. Because she had made such a gross misjudgment of character and her own heart. "Please," she begged.

  "If that's what you want." Creases in her forehead made Pam look older. She nodded and vanished into the barn.

  "She's gone," Natalie said.

  "Good for her." He jerked his head toward the trailer. "Get him in."

  She was as good as dead once Foxfire was loaded and she signed—what?—some kind of note selling the horse to Geoffrey Baxter. His only chance at returning to his life with the money was for her to die.

  But if she didn't load Foxfire, what would he do? She'd seen him already casting nervous glances toward the gravel lane leading from the main road. Other people would be arriving soon, and he knew it. Would he kill her and try to load the horse alone? What did he have to lose at this point? One way or another, he had to get rid of her.

  Her mind jumped. Was he really afraid of horses, or had that been an excuse to make her bring the stallion out here?

  "I'll try." She grabbed Foxfire's halter and brought the horse's head down to where she could momentarily rest her forehead against his nose. He calmed immediately. She would have said, Be good, but she wasn't sure she wanted him to docilely load. Natalie settled for, "I love you."

  "Get on with it!" Geoff snapped behind her.

  Swallowing dryly, Natalie led an immediately uneasy Foxfire toward the ramp. She had never loaded him, never seen him loaded, had no idea how he felt about travel. He rolled his eyes toward Geoff, showing the whites, and tossed his head again, almost wrenching the lead from her hand.

  An idea formed. Could she fake a balk, if Foxfire started up the ramp?

  Could she bring herself to use her beloved stallion as a weapon?

  What choice did she have? She would not allow herself to be led to her death.

  "Okay, sweetie," she murmured. "Let's go."

  Her clogs clomped loudly on the wooden ramp. Foxfire shied. Backing up, feeling for footing, she pulled. Real terror grabbed her throat when he started forward. He could clatter up the ramp and be in the trailer in seconds.

  He placed one hoof on the ramp, started to put his weight on it, and then thought better of it, yanking back.

  Geoff swore and started forward. Foxfire reared. "What's wrong with the goddamn horse? Isn't he trained?"

  She got his feet back on the ground. Patches of sweat were forming on his flanks and his eyes were rolling.

  "He doesn't know the trailer and hasn't had any reason to be loaded in one for over a year. Just … just chill!" she finally snapped.

  She soothed the stallion with her voice, then tromped loudly on the ramp, creating another panic. Over and over they started, until Foxfire was bracing all four hooves at the least tug on his lead.

  The whole time, she was having … flashbacks, maybe. Her life passing before her eyes. Physically she was here, struggling, sweating, seeing the chestnut hair on her slacks and sweater, feeling the ache in her arms and the tearing pain where the lead rope ripped through her palms, knowing she was likely going to die.

  On another plane, she saw her stepfather's snarl, heard his cutting voice. "You ungrateful little brat." Witnessed again Stuart's false modesty and despised him for his vanity. The craggy smile was as vivid as the dust and the braid lead tearing her hands. "That's to remind me in low moments that I can do some good."

  And John, always John. His bare back and sweat-dampened hair as he worked on her house. His tenderness as he talked to Evan last night. His passion-darkened eyes and his raw voice saying, "I love you. I've never had a lover who was my best friend."

  Please let me live, she prayed. Let me have this chance at happiness.

  By this time, Geoff was swearing in a continuous mumbling litany. Soon she would find out what he'd do if she didn't—or couldn'
t—load the horse.

  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept saying. "I'm trying!"

  And finally, "You're going to have to help me."

  She saw the whites of his eyes, now, and would have given a feral smile if she weren't so scared. So it was true that he didn't like horses. No wonder Stuart had bought one. He could be sure that his "partner" would never come to look at the pretty gift he'd bought his wife.

  "Do you think I'm that damned stupid?" he all but screamed.

  "Well, then what do you suggest?" she yelled back.

  Pam, be listening. Don't come out here. Call 911.

  The easygoing, clean-cut cop she'd known was nowhere in evidence. His hair stuck out in tufts and sweat dripped from his nose and jaw and soaked the underarms of his sport coat. His eyes were wild, his gun hand shaking.

  "If you try anything stupid, I'll kill you," he said finally, from between gritted teeth. "Anything at all."

  "Are you familiar with horses?"

  "What difference does it make?"

  "You'll have to push," she told him.

  He swore, the obscenity losing its impact after the past five minutes—ten minutes? Twenty? She had no idea how much time had elapsed and didn't dare look at her watch.

  "Push," he said.

  "Yes. I'll pull, you go behind him and just lean your shoulder against his rump and push. I think that will kind of … startle him into going."

  His eyes narrowed. "Horses kick."

  "If they don't know you're back there." Or if they're in a fever already. "Approach him from the side, so he sees you. That's right," she said as he warily followed her instructions. "Please don't shoot him by accident."

  Foxfire rolled his eyes toward the stranger who had been loitering at the edge of this scary scene. Natalie felt his gathering tension.

  "Put your hand on his back. Like that," she encouraged, as though they were friends again. "Now, just move slowly around to his rear."

  The tail whipped, snapping across Geoff Baxter's face and drawing another profanity from him.

  He faced the horse's side, his left hand resting gingerly on Foxfire's sweat-soaked chestnut back. His gun hand dangled, the barrel pointing at the ground.

  Forgive me, Foxfire.

  As if all her senses were heightened, she was aware of a car turning off the road. Before Geoff could notice, she said hastily, "Okay, now. Push!"

  As he moved, she yanked hard on the lead, letting it snap as she pulled. The already panicky stallion reared back, then felt the strange man shoving against his hock. Fury and terror bunched in his powerful back and hindquarters. He lashed out viciously.

  Geoff fell back with the first kick, startled more than hurt, because he'd been standing too close for the hooves to connect. If he had thrown himself to the side, the rampaging horse would have missed him with the next wild kick.

  He didn't. Steel-shod hooves crunched bone as they connected with Geoff's ribs and the arm he'd thrown up to protect himself. A shot cracked and wood splintered on the barn wall.

  Dust made the air acrid as a car slid to a stop in the gravel. Natalie was transfixed by the sight of Geoff Baxter, making a horrific, guttural noise, crawling on his hands and knees in the sawdust-strewn dirt toward his gun.

  Her nerveless hand dropped the lead rope. Foxfire screamed defiance and fear, bucked one more time and raced away with the leather lead flying.

  Natalie sank onto the wooden ramp and watched as John McLean kicked the gun away and arrested his friend and partner.

  "How did you know to come?" she asked.

  She sat on the closed toilet seat in his bathroom. Crouched in front of her, John was smoothing ointment on her raw palms and reaching for a roll of gauze on the bathroom counter.

  He grimaced. "You told me enough. I felt like an idiot once I thought it through. You were right. Why didn't we look at the one large expenditure we knew Stuart had made? Especially since, given what we knew about him, it was an odd one."

  "Maybe because you didn't know it was an odd one until I admitted that our marriage had been falling apart. I should have been honest sooner."

  He squeezed her knee, his eyes vivid. "You couldn't know. How could either of us?" He made a rough sound in his throat. "Two friends. Men I'd worked with, thought I knew inside and out. And both of them were willing to kill for money."

  Natalie had heard part of Geoff's justifications.

  "We got two scumbags off the streets for good." Even as he was being strapped to a gurney and loaded into the ambulance that had arrived within minutes of John's call, Det. Baxter had been pleading for understanding. "What's so goddamn bad about that? So we sold the drugs. It would have hit the streets if we hadn't been there. Don't you ever want a life you can't buy with our poor excuse for a salary?"

  Rage had twisted John's face, and he'd bent to look into the back of the ambulance, voice low and furious. "You would have killed Natalie so you could have some luxuries. What's so goddamn bad about that? I'll tell you…"

  The two uniformed officers had pulled him back before he got his hands on Geoff again.

  "What was it he wanted?" she asked now.

  "Nothing so big. That's the sad part." John tucked the end of the gauze bandage in and sank back on his heels. "Right after he and Stuart did the drug dealers, Geoff bought an RV. I, uh, did a financial check on him." He shook his head. "I didn't want to believe it. I didn't even want to put the idea in your head that he might have gone bad, so you'd look at him differently. But try as I might to deny the possibility, I couldn't help remembering that he and Stuart were partners when it happened. And damned if Baxter hadn't made the one big purchase. I don't know why the bank gave him the loan on his salary. It looks like the bank was about ready to take the RV back."

  "But Linda also had her hours cut at work this past year," Natalie remembered.

  John grunted. "Maybe they could have made the payments if Linda had kept working full-time. He must have convinced her that they could. The financial picture alone, at least as much as I've discovered so far, wasn't enough to do more than make me uneasy."

  "Did he say why he killed Ronald Floyd?"

  "As an excuse to search your house. Floyd was nothing to him. Another scumbag to get rid of, I guess. A fly to be swatted."

  Natalie bit her lip. "Poor Linda."

  "Yeah. It's going to be a shock. I should go see her tonight."

  "Do you want me to come?"

  Creases formed on his brow. "Would you?"

  "Hey, she and I are in the same boat, aren't we? The shamed wives of crooks."

  He caught her wrapped hands loosely. "You don't have any reason to feel shame."

  "I was an idiot."

  "No more than I was, or any of Stuart's friends."

  Was it true? she wondered, feeling a peculiar little lift. Stuart Reed had fooled plenty of people besides herself. She actually hadn't known him as long as the men he'd worked with in the Port Dare P.D.

  "Okay." She smiled. "We're idiots."

  His face changed, the blue of his eyes becoming electric. "Idiots in love."

  "Past or present?" she whispered.

  "Oh, definitely past." His voice caressed her. "Live and learn. I know what I want now."

  Natalie found it hard to breathe. "What's that?"

  "You," he said simply. "Friend and lover."

  "You really do mean that," she said in wonder.

  "Oh, yeah." His thumbs made small circles on the backs of her wrists. "Have you figured out what you want?"

  The time for timidity was past. "You," she said, with equal simplicity and grateful awareness of the echo. "Friend and lover."

  Relief flooded his face before he shuttered it.

  "You didn't know that?" Natalie asked in amazement.

  "I wasn't sure."

  "I've been in love with you for a long time. I just never let myself see. Maybe because I'd been so dumb about Stuart, I didn't trust my feelings. Or maybe because you were his friend, and I was always sure
you were taking care of me for his sake."

  "Thus the cookies," he said dryly.

  She felt herself blushing, but nodded.

  His voice changed, became harsh. "Do you know how scared I was this morning when I got over to your place and you were gone?"

  "I thought I was meeting you." She explained that Geoff had said he'd call John, and about his lies when she arrived. "Since I knew Evan was sick, I believed him right away."

  "Why wouldn't you have, since I was stupid enough not to tell you my suspicions?" His mouth twisted. "He would have had to kill you, you know."

  Mute, she nodded.

  "It would have been my fault." Muscles knotted in his jaw. "I couldn't have lived with that."

  "Of course you would have," she said firmly. "You have Evan and Maddie."

  "And my mother, and two brothers…"

  In fact, his mother was still here, and Connor was in the kitchen with her. Maddie was still at school, but Evan was watching TV in the family room. Natalie was pretty sure the packed house explained why she and John still lurked in the bathroom.

  "You're not used to family hanging around," he said.

  "No, but I like it." She smiled shakily. "I like them. All of them."

  He swore, his hands tightening momentarily on hers before she winced and he instantly loosened his grip. "Natalie, you deserve roses and candlelight and the diamond ring I don't have, but I can't seem to make myself wait."

  Her heart drummed, and her eyes burned. She couldn't cry. Not now.

  "Wait?" she squeaked.

  He glanced around, seeming to become aware of their surroundings. A Mickey Mouse towel hung over the shower door, and a toy submarine and a rubber shark jostled for space in a basket with a mermaid doll and pink and purple star-shaped soaps.

  "At least I seem to be on my knees. I know how to do that much right."

  "You've done more than that right." She had to clear her throat. "I couldn't have survived this past year without you."