by Leigh Hearon
All eyes were on Marcus, who leaned back in his chair and rocked a bit.
“I have given it a great deal of thought, Travis, and what seems reasonable to me is that I donate the land to the nonprofit organization as one of its first gifts. It seems only right to me that I do so. After all, you had the property by rights when my wife purchased it out from under you—something she never shared with me, you understand—and considering all that’s happened since she owned it, I think it only fair that it be returned to you without anyone having to incur any further costs.”
Marcus must have seen a line of stunned faces on his side of the screen, because he sat up and said, “I’m serious. You’ll have plenty of costs building the place. I intend to contribute to that, as well. But I’m afraid you’ll have to go along with me on this one, Travis. It’s a non-negotiable decision.”
Annie looked at Travis, who looked as if he was having difficulty comprehending Marcus’s words. Then his face aligned into its usual noble features, and he said gravely, “Marcus, your generosity is unheard of. I accept your gift with humbleness and thanks. You are a true philanthropist. We are most fortunate to have you on our board.”
A sustained round of applause arose around the table. Annie could see that Marcus was on the verge of complete embarrassment and was not surprised when he broke in to speak.
“Thanks, everyone. Now let’s move on to the interesting part—the construction phase.”
For the next three hours, the group intensely discussed the future needs of the new ranch, both for the boys who would reside there and for the various farm animals under their charge. At the end of the discussion, the list included horses, cows, pigs, goats, chickens, and possibly llamas.
“They spit,” Annie said flatly. “And they always have a supercilious gaze.”
“Yes, but they produce beautiful wool,” Travis insisted. “And we do want this to be as self-sustaining a ranch as possible.”
“Why not sheep?”
“Annie, we know you’re partial to the ovine sector, but they do take up a lot of pasture,” Dan said. “And if we try to rig the ranch so there’s an agricultural component as well, we’ll need that acreage. Plus, they’re darn good guardian animals.”
“I’ll concede the point, but don’t blame me when you get pasted by one.”
At five o’clock, Travis suggested calling the meeting to a close.
“I think we’ve made significant progress today,” he said. “I’ll give our digital recording to my personal assistant to write up the minutes and then e-mail them to all of you before our next board meeting on Sunday, June fifteenth. But before I end the meeting, is there any new business that we haven’t discussed?”
“I have one suggestion,” Annie said, and all eyes turned toward her. “I’d like to suggest adding another board member—Jessica Flynn. Many of you know her as my vet; she oversees the health needs of half the horses in the county, but you may not know that she also works on mules, cows, and other farm animals. I think she’d be a valuable asset to our board, particularly in the planning stages. She also might have ideas how to help any boys who have an interest in the veterinary field, either as a tech or doctor. She’s spread pretty thin—she volunteers her time and services to the Suwana County Rescue Brigade among other rescue groups—so I don’t know how she’ll respond, but I think it’s worth an ask.”
“Absolutely,” said Dan, and everyone around the table murmured their assent.
“I concur, Annie,” Marcus said from the LCD screen. “And, Travis, if I may, I have just one idea I’d like to run by the board before we close.”
“Be my guest.”
“Annie filled me in yesterday on how my horses are doing at their rehabilitation center.”
The board members fell quiet. Annie was grateful that Marcus referred to the horses as his, rather than Hilda’s, even though his dead wife had purchased every one. Despite Marcus’s incredible generosity today, Annie knew that it was difficult for Travis to shred that last vestige of bitterness he felt over Hilda’s cheating him out of the property five years ago. Marcus was doing his best to avoid using his dead wife’s name.
“For the most part, they seem to have fully recovered from the fire, am I right, Annie?”
She nodded, interested to know where this was heading.
“Well, the wisdom of the vets and Annie and anyone else who’s seen the horses is that they’re ready to find new owners. But my question is, is that really necessary? Would these horses be happier as hunter jumpers or dressage horses or whatever else they’ve been trained to do, or as horses that are simply cared for and ridden on a ranch? I don’t want to disparage their illustrious heritages, but I ask because we want horses, and I’m simply wondering if we can procure some from the ones we already own.”
There were no immediate responses; it appeared that every board member was weighing Marcus’s idea very carefully.
“They’re worth a lot of money, Marcus,” Tony offered. “The organization obviously can’t afford to buy them at their market value.”
“It would be another donation.”
“You must need a lot of tax deductions this year,” said Travis, half-jokingly.
“Always. But that’s not the point. We’ve been left with a big chunk of land and a lot of horses, and I just want to make sure that we make the best use of what we already have.”
Annie decided to take the lead. “Marcus, I’ve asked Patricia Winters, the operations manager at Running Track, to help me assess each horse’s value and strengths. I expect we’ll be meeting several times in the coming months to do that. From what I’ve already learned—and there’s a steep learning curve still ahead of me—it seems more likely that your horses will be better suited to experienced riders who can bring out their best. But I’ll ask Patricia to make sure I’m correct in that assessment. As far as populating the ranch with horses, I truly think we have to look no further than the several animal rescue centers in the county. A lot of good horses are housed there, not just the neglected and abused ones but horses that have been given up simply because their owners can’t afford to take care of them anymore. I think we’ll have plenty of choices locally.”
“Thanks, Annie. I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to follow through with finding the right answer.”
Annie blushed, and blushed even more when she realized Marcus could still see her.
* * *
Wolf and Sasha had been as good as gold throughout the meeting, so afterward Travis insisted on giving them a turn on the old run he’d installed on his property for his retrievers. Tony went with him. Annie could tell he was still wound up from what had been discussed today. Tony had never been a scofflaw growing up, but he had been born into extreme poverty and was one of those young men whom Carla Johnson had described as unlikely to surpass his father’s level of employment. In his case, this meant grooming horses at the local racetrack. The chance to help other disadvantaged kids transcend their limitations at home excited him in a way Annie had never seen before.
Annie took the opportunity to lure Dan into the kitchen as she washed up. She knew she’d never get his help with putting things away, but she could count on his interest as long as there were tea cookies still on the plate.
“I ran into a couple of Ashley’s friends last night,” she began casually.
Dan reached behind her and turned off the faucet. “Is that a fact?”
Annie turned and gave him a bland smile. “Isn’t a girl allowed to go out sometimes to have fun off the farm?”
Dan snorted. “And I’m guessing you just happened to choose the same watering hole as they did.”
“Yes, amazing, isn’t it? Anyway, they mentioned that Ashley was going to meet her new boyfriend the night she died. Just thought you should know.”
“What I’d really like to know is his name.”
“Sorry, can’t help you. Someone said something about him living in Shelby, but it was only a guess.”<
br />
“Anything else?”
“He lives in a much nicer place than Pete, who, by the way, isn’t just a drug user, he’s a bona fide drug dealer. So what are you going to do with this information I picked up in such a serendipitous way?”
“Come in tomorrow and make a statement. And talk to Kim. She needs to reinterview all of Ashley’s friends.” Dan sounded reluctant to ask this of her. It was thoroughly annoying.
“I’ll try to make the time.”
“Make the time. And Annie?”
“Yes, Dan?”
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate your help. But I’ve been rethinking my decision, and involving you is just a bad idea.”
“You can’t be referring to my results.”
“What in the Sam Hill do you think, Annie? Of course we’re glad for the information. But not if you get hurt while you’re digging up dirt.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“That’s what you thought the last time.”
“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I? Alive and kicking?”
“Forget it, Annie. You narrowly escaped a scar worse than Marcus’s. You’ve got the heartfelt thanks of a grateful sheriff. But from now on, you’re off the case.”
CHAPTER 17
MONDAY MORNING, MAY 16
“So that’s the story.”
“About half of it, I’d say.”
“Gee, Kim, I did the best I could. I guess I just don’t have your ten years of police experience talking to sullen adolescents.”
Despite her flippant remarks to Dan on Saturday, Annie had delivered her statement to Kim on Monday as soon as she’d had a chance to shed her mucking clothes, shower, and grab a muffin to eat in her truck.
The deputy draped a well-toned hand over Annie’s clenched ones. “You did great. Hey, you got way more out of them than I did. It’s just that I don’t believe that Ashley’s four closest friends in the entire world don’t have a clue as to whom she was seeing on the side. Those women know more than what they told you. Count on it.”
Annie was seated in a chair next to the deputy’s desk, close enough to know that Kim was still seething over what she’d just related to her about her conversation at the bar. Kim’s eyes, normally a warm chocolate brown, now appeared black and looked as if they could bore a hole in the head of any unfortunate witness and easily extract any information that had carelessly been omitted the first time around.
Save me from ever being in Kim’s crosshairs, Annie told herself. And God help those young women when she talks to them again.
“So is Pete off the suspect list?” Annie asked cautiously.
“No, Pete is not off the suspect list,” Kim replied, her irritation showing once more. Then she smiled. “Sorry, Annie. It’s just that I find it difficult to comprehend the reasoning process of anyone under the age of thirty anymore. I know, they think Ashley’s death was a suicide and don’t want her reputation besmirched any more than it already is. But don’t they understand they have a responsibility to tell the Sheriff’s Office everything they know and let us decide what’s important?”
“No,” Annie replied bluntly. “They don’t. They think they’re perfectly capable of deciding what’s relevant and what’s not. I’m sorry, Kim, but that’s the normal mind-set of people who are barely out of their teens.”
Kim sighed. “You’re right. But it gets tiresome trying to pry information, most of which is irrelevant, out of their underdeveloped brains.”
A short silence ensued, during which both women privately bemoaned the lack of common sense in the generation that had followed them. Each was certain they had never gone through this stage themselves.
“Oh!” Annie leaned forward. “Speaking of underdeveloped brains, there’s something else I wanted to bring up. Did you know that Lavender was the one who told Ashley to ask me for a job?”
Kim stared at her. “I don’t believe so. I would have put it in my report if she had. Are you sure?”
“All four women were positive. They haven’t met her, but they remembered her name. In fact, Ashley described Lavender as a friend. Since they only met the morning they discovered Mrs. Carr’s body, that seemed a bit odd.”
“Indeed,” Kim said flatly. “It appears that I’ll be spending my week reinterviewing every single female I’ve spoken to so far on the case.”
“What a drag. Isn’t there any other way to try to find the guy’s identity?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, there just might be. Ashley’s personal effects, such as they were, turned up squat, but Jack Clauson’s promised to deliver his report on her smartphone this week. A lot of the texts were deleted, so it’s taken him this long to reconstruct them. I’m hoping we’ll find a name in there. I probably should have waited for Jack to finish his work before approaching the girls. But you know Dan—he’s hot to interview witnesses before the forensics are all in. He’s always afraid people will think too much if we wait too long.”
“Try to be nice to Ashley’s friends, Kim. If they know I talked to you and you beat them up too badly, they’ll be all over me, and I don’t think I could withstand the attack of four irate twenty-one-year-olds.”
Kim laughed. “I promise. We didn’t have Ashley’s autopsy report when I first talked to them. So I’ll be merely touching base because I have new information I’d like to discuss with them.”
Annie felt considerably better. She didn’t particularly want to destroy the trust she’d built with Lisa Bromwell, or anyone else, for that matter. Perhaps it was better that she stay outside the investigation from here on out. Going undercover was turning out to be more of a headache than an adventure. She even decided not to ask Kim what “new information” Ashley’s autopsy had provided. At least, not yet.
Annie’s Good Angel patted her on the back but still looked worried.
* * *
Annie’s mind was on high overload as she exited the Sheriff’s Office. Ever since she’d made the split-second decision to give Ashley a try at her stables, she’d been thinking about the time she spent tending to the daily needs of her horses. Until now, she’d never really thought about the hours it took to feed, groom, exercise, and see to the general health of her herd—not to mention the time it took to procure supplies, muck stalls, and make sure her horse structures and fences were all in good working order. But now she did.
For eighteen years, she’d been the sole employee on her ranch, and for all that time she had deliberately kept it that way. In the early years, she simply didn’t make enough money as a horse trainer to spread the work around. When she decided to raise sheep and market their wool, her income more than doubled. So did her workload. Still, for reasons that escaped her now, she’d never contemplated bringing in someone to share the work. She hired people, of course, when she needed specific tasks done. Leif, for example, had been shearing her sheep twice a year since day one. But now, at age forty-three, wasn’t she entitled to a little more help?
She considered her next stop a good case in point. Once a month, Annie lugged all her recyclables to the county transit center, along with any items that merited a permanent home in the county dump. Why couldn’t she hire someone to do it for her? If she did, perhaps she wouldn’t always be scrambling for time to do her primary job—train horses. Perhaps, with help, she’d be able to take on more clients. Her stables were certainly large enough to accommodate more horses.
The e-mail she’d received from Patricia Winters that morning had added fuel to her new discontent over how she spent her days:
Annie,
I’ve looked at my calendar and have set aside the following possible days to get together to evaluate Mr. Colbert’s horses. [A list of six dates followed, from the rest of May through June.] Since Running Track is a bit of a drive from your own stables, perhaps you would consider spending several days up here so we could accomplish our work most efficiently. The centre has built a number of cabins throughout its campus for owners who wish to spend a block of time with
their equines. We would be happy to give you one of these accommodations at no charge. Mr. Colbert is one of our most important clients, and we would be quite pleased if you could spend three or four days with us. Please review these dates and get back to me at your leisure.
Sincerely yours,
Patricia
The thought of spending several days at Running Track was tantalizing, and Annie would have loved to hit Reply and tell Patricia that she would be there at her first opportunity. But that was the problem. What opportunity? She could hardly ask Luann to take care of her horse and sheep herds, morning and evening, for three or four days. Well, she could, but it seemed like a huge inconvenience to her friend, who had even more horses to care for than Annie did. Up until this point, Annie’s life had been so circumscribed that the need for more than minimal help had never arisen. Now it had, and she wasn’t sure how to solve her problem.
She was so intent in her thoughts that she nearly missed the turnoff to the transit center. Making a sharp left at the last possible minute, she narrowly missed being sideswiped by an oncoming truck, whose driver honked his horn at her sudden ill move. Annie snapped to attention. It was time to table her thoughts until she had adequate space to ponder them alone—preferably with a glass of Glenlivet in her hand.
She pulled into the recycling center parking lot and got out. Wolf and Sasha were in the rear cab in a state of near ecstasy; they recognized the smell of one of their favorite places. Annie’s goal was to keep both inside during her time at the dump. Sasha had already shown just how sneaky she could be in getting out of the truck. The previous month, she’d managed to roll in the garbage and consume something of questionable taste. It took more than a week to get the smell of doggie upchuck and rotting trash out of the rig.
It was a busy day at the center; the good weather seemed to have stirred many Suwana County citizens into a frenzy of spring cleaning. Annie looked around to see if she recognized anyone. She did. To her utter surprise, she saw Tony, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, sitting in an old Ford Fairlane, two rows away from her own parked truck.