“This isn’t the time to get into it,” I reply. “Look, I’m out at Bethel Stables. Lucy Reed wanted to talk to me this morning.”
Even through the phone, I can sense Dustin’s mood changing. “Something bad happened, didn’t it?” I hear the unspoken comment loud and clear. Something bad happens wherever you go.
“She was trampled to death by one of her horses,” I say in a rush.
“Is there anyone else there with you?” his tone is all cop now.
“I haven’t seen anyone.” I scan the property, but my Charger is the only car.
Dustin covers the phone and says something to Lucas. “We’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him I already touched plenty. He’ll be disappointed enough when he gets here.
My rear grows cold as I sit on a bench near the stalls waiting for them. I shift uncomfortably and pull my coat tighter. I could have waited in my car where it was warmer, but I wanted to stay near Lucy. The black dog waits nearby.
The slam of a car door alerts me to their arrival. No lights and sirens this time. Lucy is beyond help.
I open the door that leads outside, this time remembering to turn the handle all the way to get it to open. Lucas hangs a few steps behind Dustin, but my eyes search him out immediately. His head is turned away from me, seemingly more interested in the horses in the pasture than me finding yet another dead body.
I raise my chin, ignoring the slight. “She’s over here,” I say to Dustin, stepping away from the door to let them enter. “Fourth stall on the right.”
I retake my seat on the bench, pretend not to care that Lucas still hasn’t acknowledged my existence. I rub the dog’s head, his fur warming my bare hands.
After examining the scene, Dustin comes to me, notebook open and ready. “Start from the beginning,” he sighs, watching Lucas go back outside. He raises questioning eyebrows at Lucas' departure, but doesn’t ask any questions. If Lucas hasn’t told him anything, I won’t either.
Instead, I explain the events of the morning.
“The horse is out in the pasture now?” Dustin asks, glancing down the walkway to the gate at the far end.
“I guess,” I say. “Wherever that gate leads to.”
Dustin studies me, nodding at the stains on the front of my coat. "Want to explain how her blood got on you?"
I look down at my coat. “Not really.” My handling of Lucy and crying all over her was not one of my best moments. The poor woman deserved better.
“I suppose that’s all.” He snaps his notebook closed. “You didn’t get any, you know, from her?”
I shake my head. "Actually, I got nothing. I was wearing heavy gloves, though." We both look at my bare hands. My mouth goes dry and I swallow hard. "Do you want me to…?"
Lucas opens the door suddenly. "I called the coroner," he says to Dustin, then shuts the door again without looking at me.
I feel like I’ve been slapped. “Can I go now?”
Dustin moves his feet uncomfortably. "That's fine," he says in his cop voice. "Are you going to Grandma's?" he asks in his brother voice.
Lucas' dismissal still rankles and I take it out on Dustin. "I don't need to go running to Grandma and have her kiss it all better," I snap.
The kind expression he briefly wore disappears.
Instantly contrite, I mutter, “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough couple days.”
Dustin wears his blank cop face now. “I’m sure it has.”
“Besides, I have an appointment in a little while,” I say lamely.
"We'll be in touch," he says. "Looks like an accident, so we shouldn't need you for anything."
Shouldn’t need me for anything.
I tuck the sting away with the hundreds of other stings I’ve collected.
At least Ashley needs me to do a reading for her. I cling to that tiny satisfaction as I leave Bethel Stables. The horses in the pasture raise their heads as I drive by, oblivious to the drama in the barn. At a far corner of the pasture, I see Razor nosing for grass. In the snow around him, tiny smears of blood rub from his hooves.
Chapter 10
Lucas
"You look like crap," Dustin says as he takes his seat at his desk that faces mine.
I rub my face, wishing I had shaved this morning. “Rough night,” I say simply.
Dustin eyes the collection of empty coffee cups on my desk. “Looks like a rough morning, too.”
Rough doesn't begin to describe it. The few fitful hours of sleep I managed to get were plagued with nightmares of Crystal calling out for me as she died. Confusing images of Gabby swirled through the dreams, too. Stirring feelings I wasn't willing to analyze once I woke up.
I look at my silent cell phone sitting next to the empty cups for the hundredth time since my fight with Gabby yesterday. I want it to ring, want her to call begging for forgiveness.
As if summoned by my mind, her name appears on the incoming call screen.
Nervous fear shoots through me. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.
I tell her as much when I answer. Hating myself for the pain I hear in her voice.
On the drive to Bethel Stables, Dustin has the good sense to keep his mouth shut about his sister. I silently thank him for not pushing, while my belly rolls with nerves.
I don’t want to see her.
When she opens the door, her face streaked with blood, I almost give in. She’s obviously been crying and a deep need to comfort her washes through me.
I scan the property instead.
Processing Lucy’s accident doesn’t take long. I struggle to keep my mind on the job, on the dead woman who deserves my full attention.
I’m acutely aware Gabby waits on a bench just a few yards away.
I’m acutely aware I shouldn’t care. She thought I killed my sister.
As soon as professionally possible, I escape into the fresh air. Dustin can take her statement. Dustin can answer the questions. Dustin can hold her if she needs it.
I kick at a pile of snow outside the door, hating myself for my cowardice. I should be holding her. I should be asking the questions. I should forgive her.
I’m not ready. I’m not ready.
Pink stains of blood-smeared snow surround the pile I kick at. Looking closer, I see the imprint of knee marks on the ground. It's easy to see where Gabby must have kneeled and scrubbed blood off of her. A yard or so away, her bloody gloves lay forgotten.
The discarded gloves sting my heart. Gabby’s gloves are her protection from the world. They’re symbols of her gift. She must have been very upset to throw them away and leave them here.
On impulse, I retrieve the blood-stained gloves from the snow and slide them into a plastic bag. They aren’t evidence, but I don’t want the blood to get on anything else. While I put the bagged gloves into the cruiser, Gabby’s Charger roars to life.
I watch the gray car as it winds down the drive to the road.
Ready or not, she left.
"The coroner's on her way?" Dustin asks, suddenly behind my shoulder.
I pull my eyes from the now-empty driveway. “Yeah,” I reply lamely.
“Normally, I’d say it’s none of my business, and honestly I don’t want to know. But what the hell?” Dustin nods to the road where Gabby’s car just disappeared.
“It’s complicated,” I hedge.
“Everything with Gabby is complicated.” Dustin leans on the hood of the cruiser. “We have time.”
I rub my hand across my chilled face. “She found Crystal yesterday.”
“I know that already. I was there.”
I struggle for the correct words. “When she, saw, what she saw, she said Crystal was saying my name.”
Dustin crosses his arms over his chest and waits for me to continue.
“She thought I killed her,” I blurt.
Dustin stares intently at the overcast sky. “I figured as much when she called me and not you, then refused to tell you about
it.”
A long moment of silence stretches between us.
“But she did tell you. And you said ‘thought.’ Past-tense. She came to her senses pretty quickly.”
“Not quickly enough,” I grumble. “How could she think I had anything to do with what happened to Crystal?” My voice raises embarrassingly.
Dustin shrugs, his practiced nonchalance annoying. “We both know that those closest to the victim are often the perpetrators. I’m the last person to defend Gabby and her craziness, but if she really did find Crystal and really did see your name in Crystal’s mind, it was a logical conclusion to come to.”
I huff, not wanting to see the logic.
“Look, you two do what you want, but we both know Gabby works on a level different than normal people. If you want to be friends with my sister, you better buckle up or get off the ride.”
A reluctant chuckle pulls from my throat. “Never a dull moment,” I motion to our current location.
“Exactly.” Dustin uncrosses his arms and straightens to his full height. “I have no choice about being involved with her. You, at least, have the option of choosing.”
I kick snow off my boots, growing uncomfortable with the emotional conversation. "Do you think Crystal was murdered?" I ask suddenly, surprising us both.
Dustin shrugs again. “She saw something in that cemetery.”
I kick the last minuscule spot of snow from my boot. "I need to know for sure," I say to the ground. “My parents need to know for sure. They’re pretty shook up over this.”
“It will take a court order,” Dustin replies, following my train of thought. “Annette Reed already gave verbal permission to exhume her dad’s grave.” Dustin darts his eyes to the stables. “Of course, losing her daughter might change her mind.”
“Or solidify it,” I point out. “A bit of a coincidence Lucy would be trampled to death after what happened yesterday.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” The approaching black van draws our attention. “Let’s see what the coroner has to say first.”
“And one of us has to talk to Annette Reed.” My stomach sinks with the gravity of the situation. “I’ll do it,” I offer. Delivering death notices to family is the hardest part of this job. Dustin is a great detective, but I’m better with the emotional parts.
“You’re a good man, Hartley. Take the cruiser. I’ll catch a ride back with the coroner’s team.”
I push all thoughts of Gabby and of Crystal out of my mind as I drive. Annette Reed just lost her only daughter. She deserves my full attention.
Chapter 11
Gabby
The water from the faucet in the small bathroom attached to the upstairs apartment at my shop refuses to get warm enough. Scooping handfuls of cool water, I scrub blood off my face. Pink tinged water runs across the cracked porcelain and dribbles down the drain. I rub until my face hurts, but still feel stained by Lucy’s death.
The door downstairs jingles as the water turns to clear. “Be right there,” I holler to Ashley, then slide a pair of clean gloves over my damp hands.
Ashley clings to the same plastic bag she brought with her yesterday. She hovers near the front door but offers me a shaky smile as I descend the stairs.
I force a professional tone and ignore the residual quaking in my knees. "Come on in. Have a seat." I motion to the couch and chairs I've set up to meet with clients.
Ashley takes the seat closest to the door, her bottom perched on the edge of the cushion.
“Thanks for rescheduling.” She sets the plastic bag next to her on the couch as I take my place on a facing chair.
“Sorry about yesterday,” I say sincerely. “Today’s not been much better, but I didn’t want to put you off again.”
Ashley’s pinched face relaxes into concern. “Everything okay?”
Her earnest worry breaks my professional façade. "Not really." I shoot a quick glance at the door, half expecting Lacey to return digging for more details about Lucy. "Lucy Reed was killed by one of her horses this morning."
Ashley gasps in surprise. “Little Lucy Reed? How awful.” Ashley studies my face. “Did you find her?”
“I did. How did you….”
"You have blood," Ashley touches the side of her face. I scrub at my temple with my fresh glove.
“Crap on a cracker.” I swallow hard to keep my voice from breaking. “Did I get it?”
“All good,” Ashley says gently.
I fix my eyes on the brick wall behind her for a moment, getting myself together, then ask, "What can I do for you?"
Ashley slides the plastic bag onto the coffee table between us. “I have a problem. Or at least I think I do. Seems kind of stupid now, with Crystal and now Lucy dead.” It’s her turn to stare behind me, thinking. “They were friends in high school, you know.”
I don’t pretend to know who hung out with who back then. I only remember sitting alone.
“They were?”
“Lucy and I had chemistry class together. She was always such a mouse, you know. Wanted so badly to belong. You know the type.”
I nod. I was that type.
“She eventually fell into Crystal’s group. I only remember because Lucy seemed too sweet to be part of that crowd.”
I politely don't point out that Ashley hung out with Lacey and her popular cronies. As far as I ever saw, no one in Lacey's group was sweet.
“Who else did she hang out with back then?” I ask, intrigued by the lesson of what should have been my own history.
Ashley stares at the wall behind me again. “Let’s see, Crystal, Lucy, Vee, Lane a few others. Bunch of stoners, you know?”
“Vee and Lane? The couple that own the Kingston Winery? They just catered my grand opening party.”
"Huh, small world, but yes, them. They weren't what I'd call over-achievers. Mostly hung out at that old shack on the river behind Crystal’s house. Lacey and I went there once.” Ashley continues, getting into the flow of her nostalgia. “It was definitely not my scene. Mostly drinking, smoking pot, fooling around, that type of thing.”
She looks at me as if that was a normal part of my high school days. “Of course,” I say lamely.
“Guess you can’t judge a person by what they were like in high school. Vee and Lane own the winery now and Lucy has that huge horse stables. They all did pretty well for themselves.” Ashley’s voice catches and she slides the bag closer to me. “And I’m here needing you to tell me if my husband is having an affair.”
The quick switch back to the present takes a moment to process. “An affair?”
“This is one of his shirts. He’s been acting off lately, you know. Like coming home later than he used to, that type of thing. I didn’t know who to turn to. I don’t want to confront him unless I have proof.”
She stares miserably at the bag holding her husband’s shirt. I don’t really need to touch it. If she’s this upset, she’s probably right. Female intuition is pretty powerful.
“You want me to touch the shirt and tell you what I see? I might not get something from it. And if I do, are you sure you want to know?”
Her head slips lower as the gravity of the situation sinks into her.
I hate to do this to her, Ashley deserves better than a cheating husband. "Before I do it, there's the small matter of my payment." My cheeks burn with embarrassment. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this part.
“Oh, of course.” Ashley pays me, then waits expectantly. "Will you be able to tell who it is?"
“I don’t know. Do you have someone in mind you think he’s with?”
She turns her head away, a sure sign she does.
I pull the bag onto my lap, then slide off my left glove. “Lord, let me see what I need to see,” I pray silently.
I clutch the fabric in my bare fingers, and it only takes a moment to get the answer.
“I’m sorry, Ashley, I really am.”
She keeps her head turned away from me, wipes at a tear sliding down her cheek
. “Is she blond?”
“I didn’t see a blond. Dark hair, I think.”
Her shoulders sink with relief. “Not a blond. Thank God.” She stands suddenly and snaps the bag away from me. “Thank you for your help, Gabby. Really, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, not sure I helped her at all.
“This meeting is confidential, right? You won’t tell anyone about it?” She stands near the chair I sit in, her agitation making me uncomfortable.
“Of course,” I stand pointedly, and she’s forced to take a step back. “You can trust me to be discreet.”
“Perfect.” She turns towards the door, the plastic bag swinging in an arc around her.
The door slams as she leaves in a huff, a different woman than when she came in.
Staring at the small, gothic style courthouse on the square across the street from my shop, I mull over what Ashley said about Lucy and Crystal and the group of friends that used to hang out at the shack on the river. Not long after Crystal and I drifted apart, her family moved from the modest houses in our neighborhood to a much larger property south of town. It’s another property I’ve admired on my lonely country drives. I’d heard from Grandma Dot that Lucas’ mother, Deidre, had designed the expansive house. As I recall, Grandma said Deidre had driven the builder crazy with last-minute changes and exacting details. "Should have just bought an old farmhouse like this," Grandma had said. "And leave that poor builder alone."
With my sullen attitude towards Crystal at the time, I'd relished every bit of gossip about Deidre's antics and secretly hoped she was driving Crystal nuts as well. If I'd known Crystal only had a few short time left to live, I'd have been more sympathetic.
A scrap of paper blows down the sidewalk across the street. Its forlorn dance unsettles me, as it skitters and swirls alone. I turn my back to the window and busy myself with paperwork and setting appointments for a few new clients. At least the opening party wasn’t a total disaster, my e-mail has more messages than normal. Once again, Grandma Dot was right.
The busy work only occupies me for so long and the quiet of the shop makes me itchy.
I suddenly slam the laptop shut. “Who are you kidding?” I ask the empty space. “You know you’re going to drive out there.”
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