Elena Estes - Dark Horse Part 27

"Not like that. Don is very controlled, very professional. I respect him enormously."

Landry leaned over his notes and rubbed at the tightness in his forehead. "You didn't see Jill later last night?"

"No." "You had night check last night. What time-" "No, I didn't," she said. "Don did. I offered, but he insisted. After what happened in Michael Berne's barn the other night, he said it wasn't safe for a woman to wander around out there at night." "He told me you had the job last night," Landry said. Paris Montgomery's pretty brow furrowed. "That's not right. He must have forgotten. G.o.d, if one of us had been there last night, maybe we could have prevented what happened." Or one of them had been there and caused what had happened. "What time would he have done the check-if he had remembered?" Landry asked. "Normally, one of us will check the horses around eleven." Jade had said he'd been at The Players. If he'd gone to the barn later, he would surely have seen the vandalism, might even have caught the girl in the act. It wasn't a stretch to think they might have argued, things might have gotten out of hand . . .

"Where were you last night?" he asked.

"Home. Doing my nails, doing my bills, watching TV. I don't like to go out when we've got horses showing in the morning."

"You were alone?"

"Just me and Milo, my dog. We fight over the remote control," she said with a flirtatious smile. "I hopewe didn't keep the neighbors up." Landry didn't smile back. He'd been at this job too long to be swayed by charm. It was a form of dishonesty, as far as he was concerned. That should have meant Estes was the girl for him. He'd never known anyone as blunt as Elena. "Have you noticed anyone strange hanging around your stalls?" he asked. Paris made a face. "There are plenty of strange people around the equestrian center. I can't say that I've noticed anyone in particular." "So, you're fresh out of grooms now," he said. "I hear you lost one a week ago." "Yes. Erin. Boom. Just like that. Quit and went somewhere else." "Did she give you any explanation as to why?" "She didn't talk to me about it. Never even said she was thinking about it. End of the day Sunday she told Don she was leaving, and off she went."

"No forwarding address?"

She shook her head. "I have to say, that really hurt, her just dumping us that way. I liked Erin. I thought

she would be with us a long time. She talked about how cool it was going to be when we moved into the new barn. She was looking forward to going with us to show in Europe in the spring. I just never expected her to leave."

"You last saw her when?"

"Sunday afternoon. I left the equestrian center around three. I had a migraine."

"And Erin seemed fine when you spoke with her?"

She started to give an automatic answer, then stopped herself and thought about it. "You know, I guess

she'd been distracted the last week or so. Boyfriend blues. She had broken up with some guy her ownage and had her eye on someone else. I don't know who. Someone who wasn't a child, she said. Thensome jerk keyed her car a couple of nights before. She was upset about that. My money's on Jill for that.She was horribly jealous of Erin."

She stopped herself again, looking confused. "Why are you asking about Erin?"

"She seems to be missing."

"Well, I think she went to Ocala-" "No. She didn't." The big brown eyes blinked as she took that in. "Oh, my G.o.d," she said quietly. "You don't think- Oh, my G.o.d."

Landry slid a business card across the table to her and rose to his feet. "Thank you for your time, Ms.Montgomery. Please call if you think of anything that might be helpful." "We're finished?" "For now," Landry said, going to the door. "I'll need you to call with a number for Ms. Morone's next of kin."

"Yes, of course."

"Oh-and a number for a Susannah Atwood and the rest of your clients, but first and foremost for Ms.

Atwood."

"Susannah? Why Susannah?"

"Seems Mr. Jade was performing a night check of his own last night," he said, curious to see her

reaction. He expected jealousy. He was disappointed.

Paris raised her eyebrows. "Don and Susannah?" she said, amus.e.m.e.nt turning one corner of her mouth."I learn something new every day." "I would think it'd be hard to keep a secret in such a small world." "Oh, you'd be surprised, Detective Landry," she said, standing too close to him, her hand just below his on the edge of the open door. "There are two things the horse world is full of: secrets and lies. The trick is telling which is which."

People can do the G.o.dd.a.m.nedest things.

Words of insight from Monte Hughes III. Perhaps there was a sc.r.a.p of substance beneath the self-absorbed, alcohol-soaked narcissist after all. Certainly there was something lurking beneath his well-worn surface, something that had penetrated the fog enough to trouble him.

". . . that would be because of the murder."

"But that was days ago."

I had to think he'd been referring to Stellar, and in that, admitting the horse had been killed. But at the same time, I couldn't get the image of Jill Morone's corpse out of my mind. The connection between Jill and Erin made me anxious. If one could be murdered, why not the other?

I hated that all of this was happening in the world that had been my refuge. But people are people. The setting doesn't change basic human emotions-jealousy, greed, l.u.s.t, rage, envy. The players in this drama could have been plucked from this particular stage and placed on any other. The story would have been the same.

I left Trey Hughes and went in search of the one person no one had questioned who I thought might have something relevant to contribute. The one person in Jade's barn who was ever-present, but practically invisible. Javier.

His inability to speak English did not render him blind or deaf or stupid, but it did give him a cloak of anonymity. Who knew what he might have witnessed among the staff and clients of Jade's operation. No one paid any attention to him except to order him around.

But Javier had vanished that morning when Landry had come down the barn aisle, and I had no luck finding him. The Hispanic workers in the neighboring barns had nothing to say to a well-dressed woman asking questions, even if I did speak their language.

I felt at loose ends. For the first time that day I admitted to myself that I wished I still had a badge and could have been sitting in an interview room, pushing the b.u.t.tons and pulling the strings of the people who had known and disliked Jill Morone, the people who had known Erin Seabright and may have held the key to her whereabouts. I knew those people and understood them in a way the detectives interviewing them never would.

At the very least I wanted to be there putting questions in Landry's ear. But I knew I would never openly be allowed that near an active investigation. And, despite my threats to Bruce Seabright, I would now be held completely outside the kidnapping investigation. I couldn't bully my way into that house with half the Palm Beach County detective division involved. I couldn't even call Molly on the phone because the calls would be traced and recorded.

I had been relegated to the role of informant, and I didn't like it-even though I had been the one dragging Landry into it in the first place.

I who had wanted no part of this case.

Grinding my teeth on my frustration, I left the show grounds and drove to a strip mall, to a cell phone store, where I purchased a prepaid, disposable phone. I would get it to Molly somehow so we could stay in contact without the Sheriff's Office listening in.

I thought about the caller who had rung Bruce Seabright twice in that long list of numbers from his home office phone, and wondered if the kidnappers had been smart enough to do what I was doing. Did they have a phone they could ditch? Had they bought it with cash, given a phony ID?

I had given the list of phone numbers to Landry, who would be able to get a line on all of them through the phone company. I doubted we would be lucky enough to have one of the numbers come back listed to Tomas Van Zandt or Don Jade or Michael Berne. Landry would know by the end of the day. I wondered if he would tell me. Now that he was in this mess up to his neck, I wondered if he would include me at all. A small hollow ball of fear had taken up residence in my stomach at the thought that he might not.

Sean waved me to the barn as I drove into the yard. The afternoon was slipping away in the west. The sky was orange with a drift of black smoke billowing along the horizon. Farmers burning off the stubble of their sugarcane fields. Irina was feeding the horses their dinner. I breathed in the scent of animals and mola.s.ses and gra.s.s hay. Better than a Valium to me. D'Artagnon stuck his head out over the door of his stall and nickered to me. I went to him and stroked his face and rested my cheek against his and told him that I missed him.

"Just in time for c.o.c.ktails, darling. Come along," Sean said, leading the way to the lounge. He was still in breeches and boots.

"Sorry I haven't been any help the last few days," I said. "Are you going to fire me and throw me out into

the street?"

"Don't be silly. You've embroiled me in international intrigue. I'll dine out on this for years to come." He went to the bar and poured himself a gla.s.s of merlot. "Want some? Blood red. That should appeal to you."

"No, thanks. I'll be giddy."

"That will be the day."

"Tonic and lime sounds nice."

He fixed the drink and I crawled onto a bar stool, tired and body sore.

"I spoke today with friends in Holland," he said. "They had already heard Van Zandt had been in my

barn." "That's some grapevine." "Apparently, Van Zandt didn't waste any time putting the word out that I might be buying and selling horses with him."

"I'm sure he didn't. You're a plum catch, my peach. Great taste and lots of money. I'm sure he wanted that news to get to your longtime agent as soon as possible."

"Yes. Thank Christ I had called Toine ahead of time and warned him I was sacrificing myself for a n.o.ble

cause. He would have been on the first plane over from Amsterdam to rescue me from Van Zandt's evil clutches."

"And what did your other friends have to say about the evil Z.?"

"That he's a pariah. He's been banished from the best farms in Holland. They simply won't do business with him."

"But plenty of other people will."

He shrugged. "Dealers always manage to find clients, and people with horses to sell need clients to sell

them to. If no one did business with shady characters like Van Zandt, not much business would getdone." "I'll tell him you said so over dinner tonight." He made a face. "You're having dinner with him? You'll want to buy a case of liquid Lysol." "To drink?" "To bathe in afterward. Seriously, Elle," he said, frowning at me, "be careful with that creep. Irina told me what he did to her friend. And now there's been a murder at the show grounds. Is he involved inthat? That's where you were all day, isn't it?" "I don't know if he was involved. Other people may have had reason to want the girl dead." "Jesus, Elle."

"I know what I'm doing. And the cops are involved now."

"Is that who was here this morning?" he asked, a sly look coming into his eyes. "Mr. Very Good Looking in the silver car?"

"Detective," I corrected. "Is he good-looking? I hadn't noticed."

"Honey, you need an optometrist if you haven't noticed that."

"His personality leaves something to be desired."

"So does yours," he said, trying not to grin. "Could be a perfect fit."

"Could be you need your head examined," I complained. "This mess I'm involved in-thanks to you, by the way-involves a lot of ugly stuff. Romance is not on the agenda even if I was interested-which I'm not."

He hummed a note to himself, thinking something I was certain I didn't want to know. I was uncomfortable with the idea of anyone thinking of me as a s.e.xual being, because I had ceased to think of myself in that way two years before.

Deeper than the scars on my body, my sense of self had been stripped down to nothing that day in rural Loxahatchee when Hector Ramirez had been killed and I had gone under the wheels of Billy Golam's truck.

Despite the fact that surgeons had spent the last two years repairing the physical damage to my body- mending broken bones, patching skin burned away by the road, rebuilding the shattered side of my face -I didn't know that I would ever feel whole again. Essential parts of me were missing-parts of my soul, of my psychological self. Maybe the layers would fill in eventually. Maybe that process had begun. But I had a very long way to go, and most days I doubted I had the strength or the will for the journey. I did know I didn't want anyone close enough to watch the process. Certainly not James Landry.

"Never say never, darling." Sean finished his wine and went off to ready himself for a night on the town in Palm Beach. I went to the guest house and checked my e-mail.

Special Agent Armedgian, my contact with the FBI field office in West Palm, had come through with the Interpol info.

According to Armedgian, Van Zandt had no arrest record, but Interpol had a file on him, which said something. He had dabbled in a lot of business pies, always skirting the line of what was legal and what was not, but never quite crossing over it-or not getting caught, at any rate.

There was no mention of him coming under scrutiny for anything of a s.e.xual nature. I was disappointed, but not surprised. If there were other victims of his dubious charms, they were probably like Irina's friend: young, inexperienced, alone in a foreign country, afraid to tell anyone.

Needing to clear my head before the evening's mind games, I changed into a swimsuit and went to the pool to let the warm, silky water soothe my body and clean the layers of grit from my brain.

The sun was gone, but the pool shimmered midnight blue, lit from within its walls. I thought of nothing at all as I swam lazy laps with slow-motion underwater turns at the end of each. The tension washed away, and for a short time I was simply a sleek, aquatic animal, bone and muscle and instinct. It felt good to be something that fundamental and uncontrived.

When I'd had enough, I rolled over onto my back and floated, looking up at the pinpoint stars in theblack velvet sky. Then Landry came into view, standing at the water's edge. I dove under and came back up, shaking the water from my head. "Detective. You got the drop on me," I said, treading water. "I'm sure that doesn't happen very often." He was still in his work clothes, though he had jerked the tie loose and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "My fault for giving you the gate code," I said. "Hard day turning the thumbscrews?" "Long."