Broken Places

by Sandra Parshall

  Tom fingered the business card as he stood in the conference room doorway, watching them go. How much of what he’d just heard could he believe, and how much was pure bullshit? And why was the subject of his mother enough to send Hern running for the door?

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Rachel scrambled over the rail fence, a length of rope in one hand, and dropped into the paddock fifteen feet from the snorting billy goat. The animal stamped a hoof and lowered his head, swinging his long, curved horns back and forth. On the far side of the paddock, four young horses bunched together against the fence and whinnied in alarm.

  The goat lunged at Rachel.

  She heard Holly’s strangled little scream from outside the paddock.

  Rachel jumped out of the goat’s path at the same moment she tossed a loop of rope over his head. He reared, kicking at the rope, and Rachel stumbled and fought to stay on her feet. Digging in her heels, she shouted, “Somebody get in here and help me!”

  She took her eyes off the goat long enough to see two young farmhands swing over the fence, both holding lassoes. The goat bolted toward them and one of the men leapt back onto the fence.

  “Don’t you dare!” Joanna yelled at him. She shoved him off the fence and into the paddock. “I’m ashamed of you. Rope him like a horse!”

  The goat swiveled back toward Rachel. Lowering his head, he charged. The farmhands, one on each side, tossed their lassoes around his neck and held on. Caught at the center of a tight triangle, the goat stamped and snarled.

  “Just hold your ground—” Rachel gasped a breath. “—let him calm down.” Sweat trickled into her eyes, blurring her vision, but she didn’t dare take a hand off the rope to wipe it away. The stink of urine and hormones rising off the goat made her gag.

  Waiting out the animal’s fury, Rachel glanced toward the fence. Holly stood with both hands clamped over her mouth. Joanna had climbed to the top rail, ready to get into the paddock and help if needed. Lindsay looked on, hands stuck in her jeans pockets, face expressionless. And Tom had appeared out of nowhere and stood next to Lindsay.

  For a second Tom’s eyes connected with Rachel’s, he gave her an encouraging grin, and she burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. The panting goat tugged at the ropes.

  After a few minutes of fighting the restraints, the billy was tired enough to be cooperative. Rachel and the two farmhands led him out of the horse paddock past the four terrified mares. His hooves clacked on the pavement as he trotted down the road to the paddock where Joanna had temporarily installed Meredith Taylor’s orphaned herd of five nannies and the billy. Holly had stayed behind to calm the horses, but Joanna, Tom, and Lindsay brought up the rear of the procession.

  When the billy returned to his harem, the females rushed to greet him, sniffing his malodorous body and licking his face.

  No accounting for a woman’s taste in men, Rachel thought. She swung the gate shut.

  “A fence like this is not going to hold him,” she told Joanna. “He’ll be jumping it every day and terrorizing your horses.”

  Joanna threw up her hands and looked to Lindsay. “They’re yours now. What do you plan to do with them?”

  “Oh…” Lindsay’s shoulders rose and fell in an indifferent shrug. She cocked her head and grinned at Tom. “You want them? You could let them run loose with your sheep. And you’d get some milk out of the deal. I can teach you how to make goat cheese.”

  Tom shook his head. “I’m not interested in keeping goats.”

  “Come on, Tommy,” Lindsay coaxed. “My mom loved her goats. I’d feel better if I knew they had a good home. Won’t you at least think about it?”

  “You’ll have to find somewhere else for them.” Tom’s voice had a flatness that, in Rachel’s experience, always meant the subject was permanently closed. He turned his back on Lindsay and asked Rachel, “Can you spare a minute, or do you have something else exciting on your schedule?”

  “Sure.” She had a few things to say to him too.

  “Let’s walk.” Tom gestured toward the field beyond the paddock.

  At the same time, Joanna took Lindsay by the arm and said, “Let’s go over to the stable and check on that pregnant mare of mine.”

  Walking into the field, Rachel wiped sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m a mess. I think I’ve even picked up his odor.”

  Tom grinned and pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pants pocket. “Has anybody told you how cute you are when you’re herding goats?”

  “Not lately,” she said, laughing. She took the handkerchief he offered. “I haven’t wrangled livestock since my clinical training with farm animals in vet college.”

  They strolled through cornflowers and Queen Anne’s lace while Rachel blotted perspiration from her face. The shade of a pecan tree up ahead looked inviting.

  “Did the locksmith come out and change your locks?” Tom asked.

  In an instant the terror of the previous night flooded back, and an involuntary shudder moved through Rachel. “Yes, this morning. Has the report come back on the fingerprints?”

  “Yeah, but it didn’t give us anything useful. All the prints belong to you and Holly. I’m assuming the intruder wore gloves.”

  Rachel expected Tom to once more raise the question of whether she’d given out keys to the house, or to suggest that a door had been left open, but he did neither. Instead, he went on, “I talked to that mob of reporters outside headquarters and told them as clearly as I could that you and Holly didn’t see anything Friday and you can’t help us identify the killer. I’ve told everybody in the department to spread the word locally, but I don’t know if it’ll get through to the one person who needs to hear it. He probably won’t believe it anyway. As long as he thinks you might know something, you’re going to be in danger.”

  “Believe me, I’m well aware of that. I won’t be able to relax until you’ve made an arrest.” Rachel drew a shaky breath. “At least he can’t get into the house again.”

  “I don’t feel good about the two of you staying there at night. Daytime, with other people around, that’s one thing, but a bunch of new locks won’t keep you safe at night if somebody’s determined to get in.” Tom placed an arm around her shoulders. “I want to know that you’re somewhere safe. Come stay with me. Please.”

  Rachel stepped away, forcing him to remove his arm. She wished she could sink back into the affectionate relationship with Tom that she loved, but she’d begun to feel as if Lindsay were standing between them all the time. “Holly talked to Brandon early this morning,” she said, “and he’s going to sleep in our living room every night until—Well, as long as necessary.”

  Tom nodded. “All right. There might be times when I need him on duty in the evening, but I’ll make sure he gets to your place before bedtime.”

  Reaching the shade of the pecan tree, Rachel halted and faced him. “Do you think this will drag out a long time?”

  “I hope not, but…” His grim expression offered no reassurance.

  “By the way,” Rachel asked, “were you looking for something in my bedroom last night?”

  Tom frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “The room was searched, so I assume you were looking for something. Did you find it?”

  “We didn’t search your bedroom. You said the intruder never went upstairs.”

  “I’m pretty sure somebody searched it, between the time I left and the time I went back this morning.”

  “No, you’re mistaken about that. None of us went upstairs after you left. Well, except to use the bathroom, I guess.”

  Had she imagined it all—the disorder in her closet, the jeans that weren’t where she’d left them, the subtle signs that her underwear drawer had been searched? For the last few hours she’d debated the question with herself, but she kept coming back to the same certainty. “No, I’m not mistaken. Somebody went through my closet and my dresser drawers.�
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  This wasn’t her Tom she was talking to. This was a blank-faced cop who betrayed no hint of his reaction to what Rachel was saying. “Do you think something was stolen? Do you want to file a complaint against one of my people?”

  “No, of course not,” Rachel said. “Nothing’s missing, as far as I can tell. I can’t imagine either of the Blackwood twins going through my underwear.”

  “You think it was me?”

  “I—No. If you say you didn’t, of course I believe you, but—” She knew this might backfire on her, but she blundered on anyway. “Joanna says there aren’t any other keys except the ones she keeps in her office, so I have to wonder who has easy access to her office.”

  “If nothing was stolen, I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

  Stung by his indifference, Rachel said, “I guess there’s nothing you can do.” Wanting to get away from him before he challenged her again, she turned to leave.

  “Wait a minute.”

  Rachel looked back at him.

  “I don’t want to believe this,” Tom said, “but I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve been hiding things from me.”

  Rachel went cold through and through. What had Lindsay told him? What had she found out? “Hiding things?” Her voice sounded weak. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ben Hern’s legal problem in New York. Did you know about it?”

  Relief that he wasn’t talking about her own past almost overwhelmed her concern for Ben. “He lost his temper,” she said with a shrug. “He got into a fight with some guy and bloodied his nose. So what?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The disappointment in his eyes shamed her. She wanted to say something that would erase that look, but she was not going to apologize for protecting Ben. “Is it really important? How many men do you know who have done something like that?”

  Tom didn’t answer, but his face tightened as if he were struggling to hold his temper in check. He wouldn’t take anything she said seriously. Rachel felt herself retreating into that closed-off space where she was invulnerable to anyone’s emotional demands.

  “I was afraid you would use it against him,” she said, hearing her voice go cool and even. “I can see I was right.”

  She walked away before he could answer.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Watching Rachel go, Tom wondered whether she knew the whole story about Ben Hern and the girl in New York. If she did, and she’d chosen to withhold the information from Tom, he would feel doubly betrayed. Not only had she given her trust and friendship to a man who didn’t deserve it, but at the same time she didn’t believe Tom was capable of doing his job professionally and impartially.

  Her maddeningly indirect tale of her bedroom being searched was more proof that she didn’t respect or trust Tom. Why hadn’t she come right out and accused Lindsay of snooping, instead of dancing around the idea? Because she thought Tom wouldn’t treat it seriously? Or because it wasn’t true? Ordinarily, Tom took everything Rachel said at face value, believed her without hesitation, but now he was starting to doubt her judgment and her honesty.

  He strode off toward the stable in search of Joanna. He found her in a double stall, brushing the mane of a heavily pregnant chestnut mare while Lindsay looked on. Fresh straw on the floor gave off a sweet, clean fragrance.

  When Joanna saw Tom, she paused with brush in hand. “Is everything okay?”

  “Lindsay, will you step outside?” Tom said. “I want to talk to Joanna alone.”

  “Wow,” Lindsay said, “somebody’s in a bad mood.”

  That’s all I need, more crap from you. “Will you step outside?”

  She gave him a tight little smile. “Sure. I’ll get out of your way.”

  She pushed open the stall door and walked out of the stable.

  Tom, watching Lindsay cross the road toward the barn, considered the possibility that she had gone into Rachel’s house early that morning after the crime scene was processed and everybody left. He knew she wouldn’t hesitate to do it if she believed she had reason. But she had no reason that Tom could see—except a jealous desire to find out more about the woman who had replaced her in Tom’s life.

  Joanna broke into his thoughts. “Bad mood doesn’t quite cover it. You look ready to throttle somebody.”

  “Sorry.” The stable was hot even with a ventilation fan stirring the air, and Tom reached in his pocket for his handkerchief so he could mop the sweat off his forehead. Then he remembered Rachel had the handkerchief. “Your set of keys to Rachel’s new locks—Be sure you put them where nobody can get to them, okay?”

  “I’m way ahead of you. They’re already in my safe.”

  “How many people know the combination?”

  “My lawyer and me, nobody else.” Joanna resumed brushing, pulling the bristles through the horse’s mane with enough force to make the animal snort and stamp. “Easy, girl, easy,” she crooned, stroking the mare’s head.

  “Look,” Tom said, “I need to follow up on a few things with you. I want to know everything you can remember about Cam and Meredith’s relationship with Karen Hernandez.”

  Joanna had gone still, watching him with apprehensive eyes. “I thought you were focusing on Scotty Ragsdale. You can’t possibly think Karen had something to do with the murders. That’s laughable, Tom.”

  Tom saw a ripple of tension move down the horse’s back in response to Joanna’s sharp tone. “Let me decide that,” he said.

  “But why on earth would she…?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Tom said, forcing himself to be patient. “Will you tell me what I need to know?”

  Joanna released a long sigh. “All right. Can I get my work done while we talk? There’s a mess in the tack room that’s been there since the kids’ riding class yesterday afternoon.” When Tom agreed, she gave the horse’s flank a light tap. “Go on, Marcella. Finish your dinner.”

  The mare shuffled over to a bin attached to a wall and dipped her head into it. When she started chewing, Tom caught the aroma of fresh oats.

  He and Joanna walked down the wide center corridor past empty stalls and into the tack room. A pile of orange tabby kittens, sleeping on a blanket in a corner, didn’t stir when they came in.

  “I can’t believe the mess they leave things in after riding class,” Joanna said, crossing to a wooden table that held a jumble of halters and bridles.

  Tom, leaning against the table, prompted, “Karen Hernandez and the Taylors?”

  “I don’t know what you want to hear. It’s been forty years, for heaven’s sake. How could these murders be related to anything that happened that long ago? People don’t hold grudges that long.”

  “What kind of grudge would Karen have against the Taylors?”

  “I didn’t say she had a grudge! I just meant that even if she did, how could it possibly lead to murder?”

  “You told me Karen tried to take Cam away from Meredith. I want to hear more about that.”

  Joanna’s shoulders slumped and her hands stilled, fingers enmeshed in the leather straps of the halters. “Meredith loved Cam from the first second she laid eyes on him. And I believe he loved her. Karen…like I told you before, she was bored. The VISTAs were outsiders, we weren’t supposed to get personally involved with any of the local people. That’s why I quit early. The CAP director found out I was seeing Dave McKendrick and he gave me an ultimatum, stay away from Dave or leave VISTA. I told Dave and he said to hell with it, quit now and let’s get married.”

  Tom steered her back to the subject. “You were talking about Karen and the Taylors.”

  Joanna worked on the tangled straps and buckles of two halters but didn’t seem to be having any success in separating them. “I’ve already told you everything I know. Karen was just having fun.”

  “Did she ever sleep with Cam?” Tom said.

  Giving up on the halters, Joanna tos
sed them back onto the table. “No, I’m pretty sure she didn’t. She just about drove Meredith crazy, though, while she was trying.”

  Tom picked up the halters she hadn’t been able to separate and started working on them. “Meredith got what she wanted—she married Cam.”

  “Yes, of course she did. So what’s the point in digging up all that old stuff? It has no bearing on the present.”

  Tom handed her the two halters, now separated, and she hung them on pegs. “Do you know if Karen and the Taylors had any contact at all over the years between then and now?”

  “I’m positive they didn’t. And I’m sure Karen never gave another thought to Cam after she left here. She went back to Georgetown for her second year of law school, then she married Jorge Hernandez. He was a young Cuban doctor, an immigrant from a rich family, and I swear, he was the best-looking thing. I went to their wedding. It didn’t last, but Karen was crazy about him when she married him. Cam never meant anything to her.”

  “Did she talk to you about the Taylors while she was here visiting her son last week?”

  Joanna shrugged. “Just briefly.”

  “Did she seem to be having any problems with them? Current problems, I mean. Any disagreements?”

  “What? No. Well, she did say Cam had asked her for money. But she laughed that off. I don’t think it particularly bothered her. Why would it?”

  Joanna apparently didn’t know about the blackmail attempt. Tom didn’t want to press her further and end up revealing what could have been Karen Hernandez’s motive for murdering the Taylors.

  ***

  He found Lindsay outside on a bench, directly under the open tack room window.

  “Aw, Christ,” Tom said. He could kick himself for not realizing she would find a way to listen in on his conversation with Joanna. “How long have you been sitting here?”

  “A couple of minutes.” Lindsay looked up and gave him a wry grin. “I didn’t learn anything new.”

  Tom sat on the bench beside her. “Tell me something,” he said. “Did you go to Rachel’s house early this morning?”