right.
Ten minutes later I drove into the backstretch and slowed down to say good morning to Thelma, the security woman who stepped out of the guard house at the stable gate.
“Nikki, you’re here early,” she said.
“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to check on a new horse, maybe organize Ravinsky’s tack room.”
“You go, girl.” She grinned at me, teeth white against her brown face. “And when you’re done you can go on over to my house and organize there.”
Waving, I drove into the dark, anxiety hurrying me to Ravinsky’s barn. Devoid of the bustling activity that would gear up in an hour, the grounds were silent and deserted as I left the Toyota on the dirt apron. To the west, dim clouds riding the horizon shifted to gun-metal gray. In the barn, I flipped the light switch outside Hellish’s stall. She was fine. What had spooked me so?
The warm, soothing scent of horses filled the building, and down the long shedrow glossy heads contentedly tugged bites of hay from rope nets that hung outside each stall. The speckled Bantam rooster who ruled the stable flew down from his roost in the rafters and scratched in the dirt for grain. Two hens, still perched above, craned their necks, beady eyes watching to see if he got lucky.
Hellish had about emptied her hay net, so I walked to the end of the barn and around to the opposite side, heading for the room where Jim stored hay. This side of the building faced Bill Burke’s barn. The darkness hid details, but Burke always kept a neat shedrow, his red buckets and feed tubs clean, his aisle way raked clean and smooth.
Since meeting the widow LeGrange and Clay in the Jockey Club, I’d noticed a number of race entries Burke had made for her. I still hadn’t seen her sparkly diamonds around, but she had four or five horses over there and a couple of ’em were pretty good. Did Janet still cling to Clay’s flattering ways? Did he deliver more than just compliments?
An odd popping noise sounded from Burke’s barn, and my body stilled, the only things moving, my heart and the hairs on the back of my neck. My eyes and ears strained, and I thought I heard the sound of a sliding barn door, though the one opposite me remained motionless. I heard several anxious whinnies and a commotion of hooves. Sounded like horses over there were whirling about in their stalls.
My frozen stance broke. I ran across the pavement between the barns, tripping over a coiled hose, before falling against the sliding door with a loud crash. I rubbed a smarting elbow, then hauled the door open and stood listening, but only heard the sounds of nervous animals. The horses halfway down the shedrow appeared the most disturbed. The harsh crack as an animal kicked the wall almost stopped my heart. I darted down the aisle, pausing outside a stall where a horse stood bug-eyed. Two doors down an animal spun, then snorted. But the space between them was quiet.
A dark premonition washed over me. My fingers stiff, and awkward, searched the wood wall between doors for a metal connector box. I hit a switch and light flickered on, while my hands fumbled with the stall latch. I swung the door open and stepped inside. A bay horse lay lifeless in the middle of the stall, lit by a single, naked ceiling bulb.
Sinking to my knees, my fingers reached for his head. An eye devoid of expression stared at the ceiling. I pressed my hand against his neck where the head joined. The skin was almost cold. Oh God, not again .
My eyes focused on another object behind the horse. A man sat on the floor, leaning against the back wall. My breath sucked in.
“Are you okay?” I stood, shaky legs carrying me forward. Recognition prickled me. “Dennis?”
He couldn’t answer. A small hole darkened Dennis’s forehead, a trickle of blood dripped down his face and leaked onto his blue denim shirt. On the wood boards above his head, a thick smear of red, as if he’d slid down the wall and left a trail behind. His eyes were wide but
Ten minutes later I drove into the backstretch and slowed down to say good morning to Thelma, the security woman who stepped out of the guard house at the stable gate.
“Nikki, you’re here early,” she said.
“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to check on a new horse, maybe organize Ravinsky’s tack room.”
“You go, girl.” She grinned at me, teeth white against her brown face. “And when you’re done you can go on over to my house and organize there.”
Waving, I drove into the dark, anxiety hurrying me to Ravinsky’s barn. Devoid of the bustling activity that would gear up in an hour, the grounds were silent and deserted as I left the Toyota on the dirt apron. To the west, dim clouds riding the horizon shifted to gun-metal gray. In the barn, I flipped the light switch outside Hellish’s stall. She was fine. What had spooked me so?
The warm, soothing scent of horses filled the building, and down the long shedrow glossy heads contentedly tugged bites of hay from rope nets that hung outside each stall. The speckled Bantam rooster who ruled the stable flew down from his roost in the rafters and scratched in the dirt for grain. Two hens, still perched above, craned their necks, beady eyes watching to see if he got lucky.
Hellish had about emptied her hay net, so I walked to the end of the barn and around to the opposite side, heading for the room where Jim stored hay. This side of the building faced Bill Burke’s barn. The darkness hid details, but Burke always kept a neat shedrow, his red buckets and feed tubs clean, his aisle way raked clean and smooth.
Since meeting the widow LeGrange and Clay in the Jockey Club, I’d noticed a number of race entries Burke had made for her. I still hadn’t seen her sparkly diamonds around, but she had four or five horses over there and a couple of ’em were pretty good. Did Janet still cling to Clay’s flattering ways? Did he deliver more than just compliments?
An odd popping noise sounded from Burke’s barn, and my body stilled, the only things moving, my heart and the hairs on the back of my neck. My eyes and ears strained, and I thought I heard the sound of a sliding barn door, though the one opposite me remained motionless. I heard several anxious whinnies and a commotion of hooves. Sounded like horses over there were whirling about in their stalls.
My frozen stance broke. I ran across the pavement between the barns, tripping over a coiled hose, before falling against the sliding door with a loud crash. I rubbed a smarting elbow, then hauled the door open and stood listening, but only heard the sounds of nervous animals. The horses halfway down the shedrow appeared the most disturbed. The harsh crack as an animal kicked the wall almost stopped my heart. I darted down the aisle, pausing outside a stall where a horse stood bug-eyed. Two doors down an animal spun, then snorted. But the space between them was quiet.
A dark premonition washed over me. My fingers stiff, and awkward, searched the wood wall between doors for a metal connector box. I hit a switch and light flickered on, while my hands fumbled with the stall latch. I swung the door open and stepped inside. A bay horse lay lifeless in the middle of the stall, lit by a single, naked ceiling bulb.
Sinking to my knees, my fingers reached for his head. An eye devoid of expression stared at the ceiling. I pressed my hand against his neck where the head joined. The skin was almost cold. Oh God, not again .
My eyes focused on another object behind the horse. A man sat on the floor, leaning against the back wall. My breath sucked in.
“Are you okay?” I stood, shaky legs carrying me forward. Recognition prickled me. “Dennis?”
He couldn’t answer. A small hole darkened Dennis’s forehead, a trickle of blood dripped down his face and leaked onto his blue denim shirt. On the wood boards above his head, a thick smear of red, as if he’d slid down the wall and left a trail behind. His eyes were wide but
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