“Thank you.” I turned to go.
“Grace.” I waited. “I heard about the tiger getting a little out of control.”
I shot him a frigid look. If he was insinuating Boris was vicious, I was going to hurt him, friend or not.
He raised his hands in a nonthreatening gesture. “I just wanted to tell you, I’m glad you’re okay.”
I inclined my head and walked to the idling town car.
During the ride home, I sent Sonja a text message asking her if she had plans for lunch. She still hadn’t responded when the car dropped me at the condo, but it was well before noon.
Moss didn’t bother to get off the couch when I walked inside. He offered a sleepy greeting and went back to sleep.
Lazy dog, I chided. But he’d already dozed off.
I couldn’t blame him. Voodoo had reached the stage of kittendom where the wee hours of the morning seemed like the ideal time to play. Moss hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a week; I’d let him be.
With I sigh, I took my phone from my purse and looked at the screen. It was almost eleven. My parents were early risers, no matter what the time zone. Unless the Winnebago had sprouted wings and flown over the Pacific, they’d be up. If they were close to a cell tower, they’d answer.
I pulled in a fortifying breath and called.
It was a difficult conversation. For one thing, my parents were on the fringe of an area with no cell service so I had to repeat everything twice before they made it over a mountain and suddenly had good reception. I told them not to worry. They told me they would be home in three days. At first, they played with the idea of Mom catching a flight out of the nearest airport but finally decided it would be safer to have two drivers working in shifts.
I love my parents. Sure, they fought and squabbled from time to time like any couple, but in the end, when it mattered, they stuck together.
I found myself wondering if I’d find someone who’d be willing to be stuck with me, no matter what, then shook off the thought.
Sonja had texted me back while I’d been on the phone with my parents. It was her day off and she suggested we meet for Mexican.
Just after twelve I slid into the booth across from her.
She grinned, “I ordered you a margarita.”
A waiter brought the obligatory chips and salsa and a moment later two margaritas the size of aquariums were placed in front of us.
I blinked at the colossal drink. “I guess you heard about Emma.”
“No, what?”
I took a giant sip of my margarita and I gave her the shortest version I could.
Sonja’s brow furrowed even as her eyes widened in alarm.
“I can’t believe it. What did Kai say?”
“He’s not on the case. The woman running the investigation is a real piece of work, though.”
“What can I do?”
“Actually, I need help finding a horse.” I explained and brought up one of the photos of Heart I had on my phone.
“And you said this was Tony’s horse? Is that what the thing at the auction was all about?”
She had been standing next to me at the auction when Tony’s winning bid had been announced.
“I can’t think of another reason he’d want to hire me.”
Sonja looked back at the photo of Heart before handing the phone back to me. “He’s handsome,” she said.
“Do you think someone would take him because of that?”
“People take horses for all sorts of reasons. Just like people will steal a dog or a bike or anything else. Thieves are thieves. They want what you got—they figure, why not?”
“Yeah, but a horse?”
“You’d be surprised.”
The waiter came to take our order. I hadn’t even looked at the menu so went with the standby cheese quesadilla.
“Have you shown his picture around the equestrian center?”
“No, but I will. It’s weird,” I said after another tangy sip of my margarita. “The people after him aren’t horse people.” At least according to Lily Earl, and I trusted her judgment.
Sonja’s face went grim. “You don’t have to be a horse person to work for a slaughterhouse.”
I would not go there. “That doesn’t add up, either. The delivery driver, Lily Earl, said two men followed her all the way from Miami. I think they’re the same men who were arguing at R-n-R the night Heart was taken.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Minerva saw them.”
“Minerva?” she asked.
“R-n-R’s resident barn cat. She heard men arguing the same night Heart went missing.”
“How do you know it’s the same men who followed the driver?”
“Shiny bells.”
“What?”
“That’s what Minerva said—‘shiny bells.’ She was associating that with the men arguing. At first, I thought she’d been talking about bells that were shiny, but maybe they’re two separate things. Lily Earl said one of the men who followed Heart wore noticeably polished shoes.”
Much faster than seemed possible, two scalding-hot plates were set in front of us.
“Okay,” Sonja said, “the shoes cover the shiny but what about the bells?”
“I don’t know. It could have been anything. I heard it, though. It was a jingling sound.”
“You heard it? When?”
“When I was talking to Minerva.”
She canted her head and arched her brows. “You hear things when you’re communicating with animals?”
The way she said “hear things” made me sound like a crazy person. The thought brought my hackles up until I remembered I was talking to Sonja, who, unbeknownst to me, had become aware of my ability years ago, and never judged or questioned it.
I nodded. “I hear, see, feel, smell . . .”
“Smell?” She made a face.
“Yeah. Not always, thank God.”
“Then you’re plugged in completely.”
“Yes and no. I can’t jump into an animal’s head and sift through their memories. I can only perceive what they’re thinking in that moment.” I took a gooey bite of quesadilla. “Sometimes, what I hear is part of the memory and other times it’s like an association.” I tried to think of the best way to explain. “You might think of your favorite movie and the theme music starts playing in your head. Like Jaws.”
She shuddered.
“You’re afraid of sharks?” I was genuinely surprised. I knew a lot of people were afraid of sharks but that was usually due to lack of understanding, wasn’t it? Sonja had a degree in biology.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t tell me how amazing they are, I know. In theory, they’re beautiful animals. I have a better chance of getting struck by lightning, blah-blah.”
“Twice,” I amended. “This is Florida, remember?” If the Sunshine State didn’t average more lightning strikes than any other state, I’d be surprised.
She glared at me. “But I am still scared of them. And I do not want to meet one—ever. Sharks are like torpedoes with teeth. And I’m black,” she said, as if I’d never noticed. “I probably look like a seal or something.”
The gurgle of laughter that bubbled out of my throat caught me off guard and made me laugh harder. It felt like I hadn’t had a good laugh in a year. It felt great.
For a while after that, we took our time eating and chatted about unimportant things.
Somehow, we segued to Detective Boyle—who Sonja agreed sounded like a piece of work.
I thought of the Saint Francis medallion Sonja had given me not long ago and asked, “Have you heard of a Saint Giles?”
“Sure. He’s one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers.” Knowing I’d have no idea what she was talking about, Sonja continued, “They’re a group of saints who protect
against disease and other health problems.”
“So a Sanctuary of Saint Giles would be a hospital?”
“Or a long-term care facility for people with severe disabilities. Why?”
“My sister donated to a place called the Sanctuary of Saint Giles.”
“Nice of her.”
Yes, but it was still odd.
Letting Saint Giles go for the time being, I told Sonja about another, more worrisome mystery—the USB drive.
“Why are you assuming it’s something bad?” Sonja asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.”
“Maybe you’re just overthinking.”
“Me? Never.”
“My suggestion? Find out what’s on the drive, and go from there. You can worry about it when you know for sure.”
• • •
With a bracing breath, I plugged the USB stick into my laptop and clicked the drive’s icon. It opened, revealing a single file folder. When I tried to open the folder, a box appeared. I couldn’t open the file without the password.
Why would the information on the file be password protected?
One way to find out.
I started typing in passwords I knew Emma used, making it through four or five before running out of steam.
I looked around the room for inspiration, then got up and rummaged around my sister’s office, looking for her social security number. I tried it, then her birthday, and after thirty minutes entering as many variations of everything I could think of, including “Graceisawesome” and “Graceisnumber1”—you know, just in case the password had to contain a number—was no closer to gaining entrance to the information on the file.
“Okay, how about, p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d.”
Nope.
“Any guesses?” I asked Moss.
Pizza?
I grinned. “I don’t think she loves it quite as much as you do, big guy.”
If Moss ever had to come up with a password for something it would either be “treat,” “pizza,” or quite possibly “Moss-Handsome.”
With a sigh, I ejected the USB drive and disconnected it from my laptop.
Maybe the password would come to me later. Or, better yet, Emma would be released and I could ask for an explanation.
I stood and was scanning the living room for the best place to hide the little yellow stick when my phone rang. I leaned over the coffee table to see the caller ID and froze.
Jake.
In a fit of paranoia worthy of a schizophrenic tripping on ’shrooms, I backed away from the phone, whispered a curse, then stuffed the USB stick under a couch cushion before answering.
“Jake, what’s up?”
“I got some info on the horse.”
“Heart? What is it?”
“Only one horse matches his description, but it can’t be him.”
“Why not?”
“Your horse is fixed, isn’t he?”
For a half second I wasn’t sure what he meant. “Oh, yes. He’s a gelding. Wait, you’re saying the only Friesian they have on record entering the Miami port was a stallion? You’re sure?”
“In the last month, yeah.”
I didn’t want to believe it.
“But that would mean—”
“It ain’t him. Sorry, Grace.”
I hung up, flopped down onto the couch, and stared at a spot on the wall. I thought about Jasmine, who was in Texas hoping I’d deliver good news. I thought about Heart, wherever he was, and wondered who I was kidding to think I could play detective and bring the two back together.
After several minutes of staring, the silence started getting to me and I flipped on the television and channel surfed for a little while, brooding.
Sensing my mood, Moss came to nuzzle under my hand.
Okay?
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just worried and unbelievably discouraged.”
Moss trotted away only to return a moment later with Voodoo dangling from his mouth. He plopped the slobbery kitten on my lap, gave her face a quick lick, and looked at me.
“What?”
Your kitty.
For a moment I didn’t understand—then his intent settled over me like a warm hug. Moss was offering me one of the things he loved most, hoping it would make me feel better.
“Thanks, big guy.” Emotion made my voice waver. What would I do without this big pain-in-the-butt dog?
I love you, too. Grabbing his ruff, I pulled him in for a hug and kissed his muzzle.
He swished his tail a few times then climbed back onto the couch, turned in a circle, and huffed down with a groaning sigh.
Tears blurred my vision. I scratched the kitten under her chin and she tilted her head back, eyes drifting closed in kitty bliss.
Her purr, an almost hyperactive rumble, was loud and constant. Her thoughts were an oscillating thrum of satisfaction and sleepiness.
Leaning my head back, I let the kitten’s serenity seep into my head. I was dozing lightly when I heard the newscaster say, “The latest on the Ortega murder—”
I opened my eyes and tried to focus on the TV. It was like trying to pull my brain out of quicksand. Groggily, I remembered how to shield my mind and slowly managed to wrest my thoughts free of Voodoo’s.
Blinking at the television, I sat up and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. Turning up the volume in time to hear the desk anchor say, “Yesterday, our crew was on site when the arrest was made.” They showed a clip of Emma being led to the deputy’s car. Any lingering serenity I’d borrowed from Voodoo evaporated.
“Her attorney had this to say.”
A recording of Wes followed. He looked calm, confident, and serious as he addressed a cluster of reporters outside the Police Memorial Building.
“My client is saddened by Mr. Ortega’s tragic death. She is, of course, innocent and we feel confident she’ll be exonerated of any involvement soon.”
“A source close to the investigation says that Ortega’s fiancée, model Jasmine El-Amin, and her driver, Clarence MacEntire, are possible witnesses to the murder,” the newscaster continued.
A blurry photo of a man holding a car door open for Jasmine flashed on the screen as the report continued.
“Originally from England, Miss El-Amin is said to have recently moved to the couple’s beach home, where the murder took place.
“Joining us now is Anita Margulies, who is on location. Anita?”
The reporter appeared, standing in front of Ortega’s house. The gate was closed, but the exterior lighting made the home’s façade clearly visible in the background.
“As many of you know, Anthony Ortega’s body was found Sunday,” Anita Margulies said, looking well coiffed and serious. “Details are still coming in, but I can confirm his fiancée and her driver are being listed as witnesses. We can’t be sure, as details are still emerging in the case, but it seems obvious, with the arrest of his ex-wife, Emma Wilde, that the police have substantial evidence implicating her in his death. Again, we can’t speculate on the details but their relationship raises a number of questions. Was jealousy a factor? Perhaps some financial ties between the victim and his ex-wife were being threatened due to the upcoming marriage. Again, we can’t speculate, but it’s clear there’s more to the story, Chris.”
My heart rate and blood pressure had been steadily rising with every sentence.
They couldn’t speculate?
I wasn’t going to sit idly by while Emma was being slandered.
Before I’d really thought about it, I was up and headed for the door.
Not even sure where I was going or what I was going to do, the decision was made for me when I opened the door and nearly collided with Kai.
“What are you doing?” My anger at Margulies and her speculations made my surprise seem more like an accusat
ion.
“I was on my way to a scene off Bay Meadows and thought I’d stop by to check on you.”
I gave him a dubious look. Ponte Vedra was not on the way to Bay Meadows.
“Can I come in?”
I nodded and opened the door.
“First, I wanted to apologize for bailing on you the other night. I’m sorry I let Logan’s phone call bother me so much. I think I’ve made it clear that logic goes out the window when it comes to you.”
“Ditto,” I said, which made him smile.
Kai has a terrific smile.
“I know we shouldn’t talk about Emma, but I do want to help you if I can.”
“Can you arrest Anita Margulies for being a lying bitch?”
I told him about the news report and the poorly hidden insinuations. “She made it sound like Emma had already been convicted. I should have let her go into the enclosure with Boris when he snapped—he would’ve taken her out.”
Kai arched an eyebrow at my vehemence. My rant had attracted Moss’s attention and he came trotting into the foyer to give Kai the cool wolf-stare.
Kai glanced at my dog. “I guess we’re not really friends.”
“He knows I’m upset, so he’s upset. And what am I doing? I’m not even supposed to talk to you about any of this.”
“That’s not true. We can talk about Heart. I found out something interesting about Rusty Parnell.”
“The guy who owns R-n-R.”
“Nope. Rusty Parnell doesn’t own it, his sister, May, does.”
“Then where is she?”
“Undergoing cancer treatment.”
“And he’s taking care of the place while she’s in the hospital?”
“That’s one guess. Though it doesn’t seem he’s ever been involved with the place. She inherited R-n-R from their parents over fifteen years ago.”
I wondered if medical bills had driven him to want to sell his family’s property, then reminded myself that wondering about Parnell and R-n-R was pointless.
I blew out a breath and sank back against the wall. “I appreciate you looking into it, Kai, but it doesn’t matter. Heart isn’t even here. I got the info from Jake. The only Friesian who entered the port was a stallion. Heart is a gelding.”
Horse of a Different Killer Page 20