скачать книгу бесплатно
Taking a deep breath, she expelled the anxious thoughts and filled her mind with fences and rhythm. She gave Chelsea a quick tap with her heel. Over the course, she executed the big rein releases Mr. Winslow had suggested. They felt awkward. And little by little, doubtful thoughts clouded her focus again. Over the final two jumps, old habits took over. She tightened her stance and Chelsea knocked rails on both fences. Emilie grimaced as the wooden bars thudded to the earth.
Ready to face her criticism and dismissal, she slowed Chelsea and turned toward the covered stand. Mr. Winslow, however, appeared engrossed in conversation with the new hire. Had the trainer not even been watching?
At that moment, Emilie realized she didn’t care. Until she heard from Camillo and knew he was safe, she might as well face the fact that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate or compete.
As she approached the stands, Mr. Randall jumped to his feet. He took the reins over Chelsea’s head with one hand and with the other helped her down from the saddle. Before she could protest, her feet hit the ground and he’d tossed his jacket over the saddle, protecting it from the rain.
“Nice to see you, Peter,” Derrick called over his shoulder as he jogged Chelsea back to the barn.
Emilie stepped under the covering. “You were right. Bigger releases. Thank you for coming.” Expecting Mr. Winslow to leave, she held out her hand.
“Humph.” The trainer waved her arm away. “I’m not quite decided. I want to observe you again and see how you respond to more adjustments. How about I return on Tuesday? Have the Warmblood and the stallion ready.” He stood and placed a crumpled hat on his shock of white hair. “Good day, Miss Gill.”
Emilie stood openmouthed as the old man left the stands and tromped the short distance to his Range Rover. What was that? Was he still considering her? Her heart pounded against her chest and she struggled to conceal the smile that wanted to win over her mouth. Forgetting the rain, she moved out from the covered stand and headed toward the barn.
“And Randall is a fine choice,” Mr. Winslow shouted from the open window of his SUV.
Emilie landed her foot in a puddle.
“You’ll have a hard time finding anyone else with his experience,” he added. “I certainly hope you will keep him on.”
Emilie searched the old man’s face. Wasn’t that her decision? Cold water seeped through to her toes before she nodded in agreement.
“Until Tuesday.” He rolled up his window then sped down the gravel drive.
Emilie shivered, hugging her shoulders as she ran the last few yards to the stable.
“Mr. Randall?” His name echoed through the barn, creating unnatural reverberations that chilled her head to toe. Goose bumps prickled her skin as she removed her helmet and wrung out her wet braid. The brief joy from Mr. Winslow’s approval had already gone, replaced with the same dread that had haunted her since finding Camillo’s note.
She grabbed a thick wool blanket from the top of a tack trunk, draped it over her shoulders then crossed the spacious foyer to check the thermostat.
“Wow, you are one tiny rider.” A deep baritone sounded from behind.
Emilie muffled a squeal, dropping one end of the blanket.
“Did I startle you?” Derrick’s accent, maybe Tennessee, seemed heavier than it had over the phone. “Sorry about that.”
Emilie shook her head but remained facing the wall as she adjusted the temperature a few degrees. Heat crept up her spine as she could feel Derrick’s eyes on her back. She turned. “I’m just a little jumpy today….”
The rest of the sentence escaped her. Her eyes grew large. The man stood in the center of the main aisle holding the most skittish horse in the barn by nothing but a handful of mane.
He stroked the horse’s lean neck and smiled wide. “Poor guy was just walkin’ up and down the aisle. Seemed lost.”
Emilie’s mouth fell half-open. Not only did Derrick hold Redman with so little effort, but the man had also shed his rain gear. His large T-shirt and loose-fit jeans stretched across walls of hard muscle. She sucked in a quick breath and forced her eyes up. His wide-set steely eyes, golden skin and thick waves of dark hair sticking out recklessly in every direction weren’t any less appealing.
Emilie blinked and shifted her gaze to the gelding beside him. “That’s Redman. He’s a rescue and he’s usually a bit…flighty.” The one time she’d ventured to touch him, the scared animal had tried to bite her.
“Well, who can blame him? Look at this place. It’s like a country club in here.” He pointed to the dark stained cedar that crowned the open foyer with its cathedral ceiling and faux antler chandelier. Then he gave the chestnut a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Yep, Redman, I know how you feel.”
Emilie put the blanket down and pulled at the neck of her damp sweater. “That horse belongs in Stall K and apparently he needs a snap clip on his door. Put him away, Mr. Randall. We need to—”
“I’d really like it if you could call me something besides Mr. Randall,” he interrupted. “Makes me think my dad is here.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“So, just call me Derrick. Okay?” His smile grew wider.
“Okay. Derrick,” she said with some reluctance.
A dimple formed on his left cheek. He turned Redman toward the north stalls and strutted away. “Be right back,” he called over his shoulder. Great.
He and the horse moved off as silently as they’d come. Emilie reminded herself to breath again. Could she really work with this guy? Did he ever stop smiling? Ugh. It wouldn’t be anything like working with Camillo. But she did need help. The fact that Redman was roaming the aisles was proof of that. And Mr. Winslow liked him.
When Derrick returned, Emilie looked quickly away toward the back of the stable. “It’s time to turn the horses out,” she said. “But I’ll show you the old barn first. If you take the job, it’s where your office and tack space will be. There’s a restroom, telephone and refrigerator there for your private use.”
She led the way to the far end of the facility. Derrick followed close behind. She wondered if he could sense her nervousness and the strange unease that hung in the air of the stable. She scratched her neck then clasped her hands behind her back to keep them still. Or was it he that made her nervous? She glanced over her shoulder. What if he didn’t even want the job? She stopped and faced him.
“Mr. Ran—Derrick…I don’t really know you, but Mr. Winslow and, of course, my sister seem to think you’d be good here and I trust their judgment. I’m sure you’re aware it’s not usually this quiet at Cedar Oaks. There are forty-three boarders, over fifty horses, farrier visits, riding students, vet calls and lots of shows. You’d be in charge of it all…until Camillo comes back. In that case, you’d work under him through the jumper season, but he would resume teaching lessons and scheduling. Regardless, the hours are long and you’d have to work every weekend.”
Derrick’s grin faded slightly. “I need this job.”
“And you agree to the pay we discussed?” He nodded.
“Good then.” She shook his hand. It felt strong and warm against hers. “Are you ready to move in?”
“No. I can stay for the rest of the day but I have an appointment with the dean to sign my leave papers in the morning. I can be back tomorrow by late afternoon.”
Emilie clenched her teeth. First he’s late and now he needs a day off? Why was she agreeing to this? Mr. Winslow, she reminded herself. Mr. Winslow and the Olympics.
“That’s fine.” She tried to keep the irritation from her voice. “Anyway, I forgot to ask the housekeeper to run through the apartment where you’ll be staying. My father wants you near the main house. I hope that’s okay? Camillo lived here in the old barn, but he left everything behind and it’s a mess.”
Derrick grinned again and an unfamiliar warmth spread through Emilie as she finally managed to look into his gray eyes.
“I’d be happy to sleep with Redman if you asked me to,” he said. “I’ve never been in a heated barn before. Don’t tell me it’s air-conditioned, too?”
Of course it’s air-conditioned. Silly man. “You want to sleep with Redman? I can arrange that.” She smirked.
His smile stretched so wide the dimple reappeared on his left cheek. “Ah. You do have a sense of humor.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. She turned and strode quickly to the old barn, pushing her way through the heavy doors that divided the two structures.
“I guess the stable hand must have closed these.” Although she couldn’t imagine why. “We usually leave them open.”
Emilie stopped after taking two steps into the old barn.
“Is something wrong?” Derrick asked.
“I don’t know…Just—those doors should be open, and this door,” she pointed to Camillo’s tack room door, “it should be closed and locked. In fact, it was locked yesterday. I don’t know why…”
Had Camillo come back?
She rushed into the dark room, fumbling for the switch. A putrid odor stung her nostrils and robbed her of oxygen. As light flooded the space, she gasped and stumbled back.
No. Not Camillo.
But there was his body. Stiff and strangely twisted. Clearly dead. Broken boards from old jump standards lay around him. And blood.
Emilie screamed but heard nothing as she went limp down to the floor.
TWO
Derrick scooped Emilie into his arms. She’d become completely unresponsive as he carried her back to the front stable. Shock had set in. He, meanwhile, fought waves of nausea, which he feared would only worsen after witnessing such a sight.
A dead body in a stable…
It raised all sorts of questions, like why? And how? What had happened to the poor man? Who was he?
Derrick had been too worried about Emilie to really study the situation but the man was most definitely dead. The smell was enough to be certain of that. As soon as he got Emilie settled, he’d have to call the police.
He swallowed hard, forcing the agitated gastric juices back down his throat, fighting his own shock. He hadn’t expected to deal with anything like this at the new stable. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
What am I doing here, Lord?
Derrick didn’t know what to pray exactly, but seeing death had thrown him from his usual state of comfort. And that only his Savior could restore.
Inside the front office, Derrick laid Emilie on a small couch adjacent to her desk. She made no acknowledgment of him, even when he brushed back some strands of fine blond hair caught on her cheek. Her eyes, which had earlier struck him with their vibrancy, now appeared dull and drained. But she breathed normally and seemed steady enough, so he turned away and dialed nine-one-one from her desk phone.
As they waited, he pulled a chair beside the couch and took her tiny hand in his. A single tear slid down her pale, colorless cheek. Her eyes focused on something beyond him. He followed the direction of their gaze to a photo on the wall behind him. Encased in a silver frame, the picture showed Emilie atop a large gray horse. An attractive Latino stood beside them, holding the reins and an enormous trophy. Derrick removed the picture from the wall and handed it to Emilie. She folded her arms around it, hugging it to her chest.
The former groom? That was whose body they’d found? The weight of a thousand stones pressed down on him. His lungs fixed tight, no air in and no air out. What had happened here?
“He must have come back for something,” she whispered. “And those jump standards fell on him….”
“I should have gone in first.” Derrick moistened his dry lips and forced some air into his chest. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that.”
She turned to him slowly, her eyes unfocused. “You know, we worked together for four years. All he left was a one-line note. Had to go. Don’t look for me. That’s all it said. That’s it. Like he never wanted to see me again.” She began to sob.
Derrick slumped with desperation. “I’m sorry, Emilie. Maybe he was sick or had a problem and didn’t want you to worry.”
“But I could have helped,” she said with force. Anger now replacing the sorrow. “Whatever he needed…I could have helped. Why didn’t he want my help?”
Derrick remained silent by her side until the police arrived. Then he showed them to the body and answered what questions he could. But it wasn’t long before they had no need of him. A female police officer stayed in the office with Emilie, who lay silent on the couch. Derrick felt useless and retreated to the north wing of the stable to get out of the way. How could he help? He didn’t even know the turnout routine.
After a moment, he donned a pair of gloves, found a manure fork and a wheelbarrow and put himself to work.
“I’m Detective Steele.” A voice boomed through Emilie’s office door, jarring her from a coma-like trance. “You must be Miss Gill. I need to speak with you, please.”
Emilie sat up, looked over at the man in the doorway and waved him inside. Short and thick, he walked with a limp and one fist propped on his hip.
He came in and took a seat in the chair that Derrick had used earlier. Then he dismissed the female officer that had been in the room. “The medical examiner has arrived. He’ll remove the body soon.”
Emilie shivered and checked the clock on the wall. Late afternoon. She’d lain there for hours. “I gave one of the officers Camillo’s family’s address and phone number in Mexico. Have you called them? I would, but I don’t speak Spanish very well.”
“I’ll call when I get back to the station. I’m sorry, Miss Gill. Mr. Randall explained that you were close to Mr. Garcia. That he worked for you for several years.”
She swallowed hard, staring down at the red Turkish rug that covered her hardwood office floor. “They depend on him for support. His family. Tell them I’ll forward his pay. I don’t want them to worry.”
“I’ll be glad to do that.” Steele eyed her as he took out a pad and some paper. “Can we go over a few things?” She nodded.
“I understand Mr. Garcia recently left your employ. Is that correct?”
Emilie stood and with robotic motions, took the note Camillo had left her from her desk. She handed it to the detective. “I guess he left Friday night. I’d seen him at dinner. He said nothing about leaving. But in the morning, when he didn’t show up to groom and exercise the horses, I went to the back barn, into his office and found this note. Next to it were all his keys.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep the note.” He took it from her trembling hands. He folded it away in his jacket pocket. “Did you and Mr. Garcia always eat meals together?”
She shrugged. “A few times a week. He wasn’t just an employee. We were friends, too.”
“As I said, I’m terribly sorry.” He made some notes in his little book. “So, the room where you found Mr. Garcia was normally locked?”
She nodded. “It should have been. I’m certain it was closed yesterday. I assumed it was locked.”
“Do you always lock all of the rooms in the stable?”
“All the tack rooms, yes. And the feed room,” she said. “I’m sure you know there is a high rate of saddle theft in the area and I’ve heard of people stealing the pharmaceuticals, as well, which are in the feed room.”
“Who else has a key to the room where you found Mr. Garcia?”
“No one. Just Camillo and me.”
“Was the stable busy this weekend?”
“No. No one’s here this weekend. The staff is off for Thanksgiving and almost all the boarders went out of town.”
He wrote more notes in his book. “You saw Mr. Garcia Friday night. He said nothing about leaving. Then Saturday morning he didn’t show up for work so you walk back to his office and find this note and his keys. Do you have these keys?”
Emilie stood again and retrieved the keys from the top desk drawer.
“That’s a lot of keys,” he said. “Was his office locked when you found these and the note?”
Emilie frowned. “No. But he didn’t always lock his office. There wasn’t anything valuable in it. He did keep the door closed.”
“Was the door closed when you found the note?”
Emilie closed her eyes. The events of the weekend blurred together. “I don’t…I don’t remember.”
“But you’re sure the tack room was closed and locked? How is that?”
His accusatory tone irked her. “I said I don’t know if it was locked. I assumed it was. It was closed. I remember that.”
