“Wait.” Zelda Peterson approached them. “How’d you get that number?”
Jessie looked up at her. “You know it?”
“It’s the one I’ve been calling since I got here. That’s the number for my groom. The one who isn’t answering my calls.”
Greg pulled out his own phone. “Maybe he’ll answer for me.”
Zelda gave him a puzzled look.
“Ever consider he might be trying to dodge his employer?” he said as he waited for the call to connect.
“Oh.”
Greg swore and put the phone away. “It went straight to voicemail. What’s his name?”
“Miguel Diaz. He’s just a kid. And not very ambitious. I can’t imagine he checked on the horses without being ordered to.”
Jessie looked around. Patches of light spilled on roof and pavement from halogen bulbs overhead, but the shedrows lay in deep shadow. She shivered at the thought of someone lurking there.
“You can go make those transportation arrangements,” Greg told Zelda. “Thanks for your help.”
As the trainer walked away, Jessie frowned at Doc’s phone, still nestled in Greg’s palm. “Who called it in?”
“Pardon me?”
“Who dialed 911? Doc wasn’t in any shape to call for help. Besides, he left his phone in the truck.”
A sad smile crept across Greg’s face. “I guess ten years as a state trooper’s wife did teach you something.”
She winced, still trying to accept ten years as Greg Cameron’s wife would never become eleven years.
“Let me make a call.” He pulled out his phone again. “And you’re forgiven for the lapse of judgment where handling evidence is concerned.”
The grumble of an engine snatched her attention back from her momentary wallow in self-pity. She recognized the track CEO’s white Ford Expedition as it rolled toward them. She left her soon-to-be ex-husband to his detective work and headed for the car.
Jessie hadn’t seen Daniel Shumway in ages, even though their farms backed up to one another. One of the reasons she’d been looking forward to these two weeks at the track was the opportunity it offered to possibly bump into him. But not this way.
Both the driver’s and passenger’s doors flew open. A tiny woman with curly flame-red hair bolted from the passenger seat, making a run for the barn. Daniel Shumway, blond, rugged, and slightly disheveled, charged after Amelia Lewis, catching her around the waist before she could reach the barn. She flailed and screamed, but he turned her toward him, and she collapsed against his chest.
Jessie jogged to them. Daniel met her gaze over Amelia’s head. He wore the helpless expression most men exhibit when faced with a sobbing female.
Jessie touched Amelia’s shoulder and tried to say her name, but words refused to come.
Amelia wheeled from Daniel, crumpling into Jessie’s arms, babbling something unintelligible against Jessie’s shoulder.
Amelia’s anguish fed Jessie’s. “I’m so sorry,” Jessie whispered against her hair, fighting back her own tears. Not now. Amelia needed her to be strong.
Jessie glared at Daniel.
He obviously caught the meaning of Jessie’s scowl. “I didn’t want to bring her here, but she said she’d drive herself if I didn’t.”
Jessie knew she would have too. Doc had always called Amelia his little spitfire. The red hair came with a temper. Amelia took no guff from anyone. Not Doc. Not their two kids. And not Jessie during the years she’d lived with them.
If Amelia Lewis set her mind to something, heaven help the person who got in her way.
Amelia sniffled and pushed away from Jessie. “I need to see him.”
“No, you don’t.” Jessie lowered her head to look Amelia square in the eyes. “I thought I did too. Now I wish I hadn’t.”
“He’s my husband.” Amelia tried to wrest free of Jessie’s hold. “I need to be with him.”
Jessie held firm. “He’s gone, Amelia. There’s nothing any of us can do for him now.”
Amelia’s face contorted. “You’ve seen him?”
“Yes.”
“It’s—it’s really him? You’re sure?”
“There’s no doubt. But you don’t want that picture of him frozen in your mind. Believe me.”
“But what happened?” Amelia wailed. “How did he—die?”
“He—” Jessie choked on the words. “He was trampled. By a horse he was treating.”
A commotion in the shedrow drew their attention. Two guys wearing jackets emblazoned with Monongahela County Coroner carted a stretcher into the barn and disappeared into the stall.
Greg, the other trooper, and several uniformed officers huddled and compared notes. Trooper Popovich broke away from the group, climbed into his SUV, and drove away.
Jessie watched his taillights disappear at the end of the shedrow while wondering how much Daniel knew about what had happened. She didn’t want to catch him up on the details with Amelia standing there.
The coroner guys wheeled the stretcher, now carrying a blue body bag, out of the stall. When they draped a black shroud over it, Amelia let out a cry that sounded like a wounded animal. Jessie held her tight. Daniel wrapped his arms around both of them, as if they might keep the widow from breaking into little pieces.
By the time Doc’s body had been loaded into the Medical Examiner’s van, Amelia’s weeping had subsided. “I need—” She hiccupped. “—to sit down.”
Jessie looked at Daniel. “Let’s get her back in your car.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Amelia said as Jessie assisted her into the passenger seat. “None of it feels real. We’re supposed to leave for Hawaii in the morning.”
Jessie held Amelia’s hand. What could she say? I know. I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do...
None of it sounded adequate.
“Doc just couldn’t stop working,” Amelia went on. “Even when he’s supposed to be on vacation. He was out on calls all night.”
“But—” Jessie stopped, puzzled. On the phone, Doc had told Jessie he didn’t want to get out of bed to drive to the track in the middle of the night. Or had she misunderstood?
Jessie ran the conversation through her head. Tried to remember each word. Each detail.
It had been a little after one a.m. when he’d called her and said he was on vacation as of midnight. Doc’s words rang in her memory. “I’m dumping this one on you so I can get some sleep before
