A quick check of the house confirmed that the intruder had not paid another visit. Zoe had feared the funeral might be a prime opportunity for McBirney to try again. He either had succeeded in stealing the hard drive the previous night, or Mr. Kroll’s outdoor activities had discouraged another attempt.
Merlin and Jade, meowing their demands for food, watched Zoe as she changed out of her dress clothes and into jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. Just because she wasn’t hungry didn’t mean the rest of the household shared her lack of appetite. She made her way down the stairs with the cats racing her to the kitchen.
As she scooped Fancy Feast into two bowls, her thoughts bounced inside her head like a pinball. She had to be at the ambulance garage by four and dreaded the thought of going back to work—her first shift since Ted’s death.
Logan and Allison would be there soon. An hour or so in the saddle sounded good. Zoe checked the clock over the stove. One-fifteen. She could take Allison out while Logan worked on the computer and still make it back in time.
She placed the bowls on the floor. Merlin dove into his lunch while Jade sniffed and stared at the mound before her. Then she turned her green eyes upward to Zoe.
“Sorry, sweetie. That’s the only choice you get today,” she told the feline.
Jade turned and strutted away, parking herself under the stool. The same one Pete had sat on last night.
Pete. What in the world was she going to do about him? The kiss had been incredible. And unexpected. True, she’d imagined what his lips on hers would be like. She’d even permitted a fantasy or two in which things went much further.
But they had been friends for a long time. They worked together, hung out together, played poker together, sometimes met for dinner at one of the local dives. Good friends were hard to come by. Did she want to risk losing this one when her romantic track record sucked swamp water?
Plus, the kiss wasn’t even the biggest obstacle between them at the moment. Her secrets threatened to kill off their bond faster than the hint of passion. Pete hated lies. Almost as much as she did.
Maybe Logan would show up and determine the hard drive was gone. And that would be the end of it.
Perhaps that might be the best thing. She and Logan would have to give up.
She could stop keeping secrets from Pete.
The floor vibrated from footsteps on the back porch a moment before a heavy fist pounded on her door.
Masculine voices filtered into the living room. Zoe drew the lace curtain back enough to see Logan standing there, talking to Mr. Kroll.
“Hey, you two,” she said as she swung the door open.
Mr. Kroll stomped snow from his boots. “Everything okay in there today?”
“Fine,” she assured him. “Are you done with the road?”
“It’s as good as it’s gonna get right now, I’m afraid. If you’ll excuse me, the missus has a pot of soup on the stove that’s calling my name.”
The landlord headed for the door to his side of the house, and Logan shuffled in, dragging a lumpy backpack with him.
“I thought you were bringing Allison,” Zoe said. “Or was that another ruse to get your mother’s permission to come over here?” More lies. Just what she needed.
“No. I brought Allison. I dumped her at the barn. That lady who owns Jazzel was out there.”
“Patsy Greene?”
“I guess. Anyhow, she was saddling up her horse. She said it’s been lame and she wants to see how it’s doing. Offered to let Allison ride with her. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Sure.” Patsy knew which horses Allison was permitted to use and would take good care of her.
“Cool.” Logan deposited his backpack on the sofa and pulled a CD from a side pocket. He nodded at the closed office door. “So how bad is it?”
“You tell me.” Zoe led the way into the room.
“Dude,” Logan said, dragging the word out into about three syllables. “We’re talking seriously trashed.”
Zoe held her breath, hoping the hard drive was gone and only slightly ashamed for wishing it.
He dropped to his knees next to the computer tower and peered inside. “Awesome. It’s still here. And it’s not as bad as it looks at first. Nothing’s messed up too much.”
So much for being freed of her secrets. The disappointment hit her even harder than she expected. Asshole McBirney. Couldn’t even get a simple burglary right.
While Logan tinkered with the computer, Zoe paced the floor behind him. Rearranged a few books on the shelves. Straightened a pair of family photos on the fireplace’s mantel.
She needed to get out of the house. “Do you need me for anything?”
He laughed. “No.”
If there weren’t already so much going on in her head, she might have felt insulted. “I’m going to the barn. Maybe I can catch Patsy and Allison.”
“I’ll be fine. Can I raid the refrigerator?”
She started to mention that he’d just come from a dinner, but considering it had been his dad’s bereavement dinner, she changed her mind. “Help yourself.”
Zoe grabbed her parka from the hook next to the pantry, tugged on her boots, and headed out the kitchen door. No one had shoveled the path to the barn, but it was packed down by her own multiple trips along it.
The glare of sunshine nearly blinded her. Squinting, she noted several vehicles parked at the barn. The first mild day after a spell of Arctic cold and snow always brought out the boarders. They would come and play with their horses, brushing them, cleaning out their feet, maybe taking a ride. But only a few chose to muck out their stalls, leaving that to Zoe. She didn’t mind. Much.
Inside the barn, silence greeted her. The stalls were empty. She strolled across the indoor arena and opened the sliding door wide enough to gaze out at the pasture. Most of the herd gathered at the three round bales Mr. Kroll had set out last weekend. A few pawed at the snow in search of a rare sprout of January grass. Windstar stood at the stream, dipping his muzzle into the running water.
Zoe made out two mounted figures on the hillside above the pasture, about five hundred yards away. Patsy and Allison were heading toward the neighbor’s farm and eventually the back road, a favorite route. If she caught Windstar now and threw a saddle on him after only a token grooming, she might still intercept them on their ride.
She called to her gelding. Everyone’s ears perked. If one came, they all came. And with food potentially in the offering, they indeed all galloped toward her.
Zoe slung Windstar’s halter and lead over her shoulder, gathered an armload of green, leafy hay from an open square bale, and squeezed through the door into the pasture. She scattered the hay, which appeared more appetizing than the round bales. The fat horses in their fuzzy winter coats dove into it as if they were poor starved beasts.
With minimal effort, she sidled up to her gelding and slipped the halter over his head. She clucked to him and led him to the barn, sliding the door wider to accommodate them both.
The horse followed her to the tack room. She tied him to a steel ring on the wall and ducked inside to grab a bucket filled with grooming tools. Setting it on the ground by Windstar’s head, she leaned over to dig through the bucket in search of her favorite stiff brush.
She wasn’t aware of anyone else in the barn until a voice behind her sent an icy chill through her soul.
“Hiya, Blondie.”
FIFTEEN
It had been twelve years since Zoe last faced Jerry McBirney alone, but the terror seized her as fiercely as if it had been last night. The muscles along her spine turned to ice as memories flooded back. The drunken rage. His face contorted with fury.
She straightened to her full height and turned slowly to face the personification of all her inner demons.
McBirney, wearing
a long, dark wool coat and a trace of a smirk didn’t much resemble the monster in Zoe’s nightmares. The face was older, the creases and lines deeper. But he still wore the same aftershave, and the musky scent gagged her.
“What’s wrong? You look scared. I don’t frighten you, do I?”
She flashed on the memory of his clenched fist. Thought of Marcy’s black eye. She might be able to outrun him, but she wouldn’t abandon Windstar with him. She’d learned that lesson all too well when the horse had been a foal. What could she use to defend herself and her horse? She glanced at the bucket holding her grooming tools, trying not to be too obvious. It held only brushes, curry combs, a sponge, and a couple of hoof picks. Not enough to do any real damage.
McBirney laughed. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about. Get the hell out of here,” Zoe said, pleased her voice didn’t quiver.
McBirney took a step toward her and placed a leather-gloved hand on Windstar’s rump. “Nice looking horse. What’s his breeding?”
As if he didn’t know. Protective mother bear instincts kicked in, and Zoe moved forward, slapping his hand away. “Get away from him.”
McBirney appeared startled for a moment, and then smiled. “You’ve always been a feisty one, haven’t you? It’s one of the things that attracted me to you.”
Zoe thought she might be sick. If she were going to throw up, at least she could aim for his shoes.
“I told you I wanted to talk, and I mean it.” McBirney grew serious. “It’s come to my attention that a lot of people around town seem to think I had something to do with Ted Bassi’s death. I did not.”
She wanted him out of there. Now. Maybe if she agreed with him, he’d go away sooner. “Okay.”
“I mean it. I had nothing to do with that. I know it looks bad. Especially with his body being found in my car and all.”
Not to mention the bad blood between them. “I said, okay. Now get out.”
“You don’t believe me. But think about it. Why would I kill Ted and leave the body in my own car? I’m not stupid.”
He showed no signs of complying with her request to leave. A phone hung on the wall by the door, but she’d never make it there in time to place a call without incapacitating him first. Some heavy fence-building tools and blacksmith tools were stored inside the tack room. She might be able to get to them if he were distracted for a moment.
“Why are you telling me this? I have nothing to say about whether or not you’re arrested. If I did, it would have happened already.”
“I can’t talk to Sylvia or Rose, obviously. But you can. And Pete Adams has some personal issues with me that keep him from being objective.”
“And you think I’m objective?”
“I think you could be.”
She choked out a laugh. “Have you forgotten what you did to me?”
McBirney drew a slow breath. “No. Of course I haven’t. But apparently you’ve forgotten that I apologized for it.”
“Like that makes it all right.”
“I can’t be responsible for your being unable to let bygones be bygones.”
In that moment, Zoe understood the motivation behind abuse victims killing their abusers. If she’d been able to put her hands on something heavy, she’d easily be able to pummel him to death. “Bygones? You punched me in the face. Twice. Fractured my cheekbone.”
McBirney’s eyes narrowed. “I was drunk. And you deserved it.”
“Deserved it? No one deserves what you did to me.”
“You were a tease. You played me.” A tinge of red crept up McBirney’s neck to his cheeks.
“I did not.”
“You were looking for a sugar daddy.”
She gasped, incredulous. “Sugar daddy?”
“First you shacked up with Matt until he threw you out—”
“Threw me out? I left him.”
McBirney sneered. “And then you set your sights on Teddy boy, but he dumped you for your best friend.”
“I never set my sights—”
“So you came crawling to me,” he said, his tone mocking, “all wounded and pitiful. And needy.”
She stepped toward him and shoved him away from her horse. “I’ll show you needy, you son of a bitch.”
But McBirney threw his head back and laughed at her. “Yeah, you were happy to let me take care of you and buy you pretty things and give you a nice place to stay. But when it was time for you to pay up, you decided to play hard to get.”
The night she’d struggled for years to forget slammed into her like a runaway train. After finding Matt in bed with that tramp, she’d left their house and bounced from one friend’s couch to another, spending most of her nights with Rose and the kids. When Ted came into the picture and fell for Rose instead of Zoe, she moved out to give them space.
Jerry McBirney had sat next to her at the Elm Creek Horse Auction one night, and they struck up a conversation. His sky blue eyes and quick smile trumped his rough complexion making him attractive if not handsome. Into the ring came a chestnut Quarter Horse mare that was heavy with foal. Zoe fell in love with the horse, but knew she didn’t have the money. Jerry offered to buy the mare for her and to board it at his place until she could make other arrangements. Stunned by his kindness, she accepted.
The mare produced a big-boned sorrel colt she named Windstar. Jerry proposed that she move into one of his spare rooms so she could be closer to the pair. He bought her a new saddle for the mare and a tiny halter for the colt. She cleaned stalls for him and did some cooking and cleaning around the house to earn her keep.
One night, he suggested they go out to eat. Instead of a local diner, he took her into Pittsburgh’s Station Square for a dinner cruise on one of the riverboats. Until that night, Zoe always thought he was being kind to a young waif. Having lost her own dad at such an early age, she thought of him as a surrogate, buying her the toys her father hadn’t been around to purchase. But on that riverboat, she realized in Jerry’s mind, he’d been courting her.
He asked her to dance. She agreed, but pulled away when he drew her close and tried to kiss her. He hounded her all evening, and she struggled to be polite about rebuffing his advances. Finally, he seemed to give up and turned to the bar for solace.
The drive home was silent. Sometime in the middle of the night, Jerry came into her room. She awoke to find him over her, reeking of booze.
“You think I’ve been feeding you and putting a roof over your head all this time because I’m nice?” she remembered him saying. “I’m not that nice. And now it’s time to pay up, Blondie.”
His hands crawled over her skin, under her pajamas. She squirmed, fighting to get out from under him, free from his grasp, begging him to stop.
He laughed.
She remembered that laugh.
She remembered her sobs.
In his drunken state, he wasn’t able to complete the rape. So instead he battered her with his fists, slamming her face twice.
Zoe had no memory of the pain. Adrenaline and her survival instincts protected her. She managed to catch him off balance after the second blow and got in one of her own, using the small bedside lamp as a club. While he was down, she escaped.
It took two days to line up a stall elsewhere for her mare and foal and a trailer to transport them. She waited until McBirney was gone before arriving at his barn. As soon as she stepped through the door, she knew something was very wrong. The foal’s plaintive whinny greeted her along with the sound of thrashing and wood splintering. She ran to the stall to find the mare, glassy-eyed, crashing blindly around the stall, oblivious to her baby.
Zoe barely succeeded in rescuing Windstar without being trampled herself. She secured him in another stall and placed a call to the vet. The
mare died five hours later, despite heroic efforts by Dr. Benton. Remnants of her hay told the tale. Clippings from toxic Chinese Yews had been mixed with the alfalfa. McBirney had failed at raping her physically and the beating he gave her left bruises that would heal in time. So he’d taken his revenge in the one way that ravaged her soul as nothing else could.
Twelve years later, Zoe stood toe-to-toe with the man who had orphaned the horse tied next to them now. “You sick bastard. You tried to rape me.”
“Your word against mine.”
“You beat me.”
He shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”
She gagged and tasted bile on the back of her tongue. “You killed my horse.”
“What? You’ve gone off the deep end this time.”
“You poisoned my mare.”
McBirney seemed puzzled. “That mare from the auction? Oh. Yeah. I do remember something about her dying. In my barn. While you were trying to sneak her out without paying your board bill.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “The way I see it, since you never paid me for the mare or the board, she was mine anyway. So you still weren’t out anything. Didn’t she have a colt? Whatever happened to him?”
Zoe stared hard at McBirney. Do not look at Windstar. Do not give even a hint.
But it was too late. Realization lit McBirney’s eyes. “Aw, so this fine looking animal is out of that mare I bought.” He laughed. “My mare. That means he’s mine, too. Nice looking fellow. He’ll look even better in my barn.”
Zoe’s head spun. Was he serious? Legally, did he have grounds? And did it matter? McBirney got what McBirney wanted.
He crossed his arms and studied the gelding with an appraising eye. “I’ll be back in an hour with my trailer to pick him up.”
Zoe stepped between McBirney and her horse. “No.” She hated the desperation in her voice. But what if he did legally have ownership? “I’ll pay you.” She had no intention of giving him money for her own horse, but she’d be buying time.
Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) Page 15