'Ma'am?' It was the operator's firm voice. 'Are you -?'
'Fine, I'm fine – my friend – I ran into him. I'm okay.'
'Are you certain there's not a problem with him?'
'Yes, yes, I'm sure.' I was gaining some control now that my back was to Valerie's body. 'It's okay. I'm okay. We're going to the truck now.'
Jorge tripped over himself as he continued to back away. I lunged and grabbed his arm to steady him. He clutched at mine. His earlier, confident macho attitude had vanished.
'What – was – is -?'
'Yes,' I said. 'Don't look, Jorge. Don't look!' I pushed him toward the truck.
He obeyed my command with alacrity, and dragged me with him, speaking rapidly in English punctuated with Spanish. The operator spoke to me at the same time, and I couldn't figure out what either one said. We reached the truck and I gave up trying to listen.
'Ma'am?' I said into the phone. 'Talk to my friend, please, he's kind of upset.'
I handed the phone to Jorge, dropped the truck's tailgate, and hoisted myself up. The cold metal bit through my riding pants. Muscles from my thighs to my shoulders clenched in response. A chill breeze blew through my short hair and around my neck. I turned my collar up, and pulled the jacket tighter around me. It didn't help.
Jorge hopped up next to me, still on the phone, but I wasn't listening. The situation was too surreal. If anyone had suggested to me five minutes ago that Valerie might be dead I'd have laughed. I snuck a look in the direction of her body. My shoulders eased down when I couldn't see her from where I sat.
Blackie turned from where he had stopped and went back to grazing. Thank God he seemed undisturbed. Then an awful, unwelcomed thought worked its way front and center.
Could my gentle, kind horse have done this awful thing?
No. How could I even consider such a question? Yet that's exactly what it looked like.
I watched him graze, silently begging him to be innocent. As if sensing my distress, he raised his head and, with his ears pricked at me, whinnied softly. A lump grew in my throat. Of course he hadn't killed her.
I knew why Valerie wanted my horse. Even at the tender age of seven my sixteen-and-a-half hand Hanoverian gelding finds the rigors of dressage easy. He applies himself to his job with cheerful cooperation. His disposition makes him a joy to work with, and he loves any and all human company. He would not have hurt her. In fact, anyone who makes eye contact with him is his new best friend. On the rare occasion when someone chooses to ignore him he follows their every move with those big, intelligent, brown eyes until he breaks through their indifference. The memory of his successful use of that tactic pulled me into a calmer frame of mind. He's sweet and handsome, and if he were a man I'd date him. Heck, I trust him enough to marry him.
Blackie already had his own groupies among the young teenagers who rode at Copper Creek. During training sessions we often had an audience, and my incorrigible showoff always put in extra effort for any noises of appreciation. Actual dressage shows, however, are not something I'm particularly inclined to do, and Valerie fired that spit-ball at me every chance she got.
According to her, I did not deserve a horse like Blackie. I should, in her opinion, admit my massive shortcomings and sell him to her. But Blackie was not for sale. Not to anyone. At least her constant pressure was no longer a worry.
The wail of sirens announced the arrival of the first Snohomish County Sheriff's car. Relief welled up, mixed with a good dose of anxiety. This ordeal was not over.
The approaching noise and sudden appearance of flashing lights from the white and green Crown Victoria sent Blackie, in true equine fashion, fleeing to the far end of the pasture. Jorge handed my cell phone back to me as a brown-uniformed deputy swung out of his patrol car and walked purposefully toward us, on hand resting on his utility belt near his holstered gun. I pointed in the direction of Valerie's body without speaking or getting off the truck's tailgate. The deputy nodded sharply and told us to stay put. Someone would talk to us soon. I shivered.
The ambulance lumbered into view not thirty seconds later, with its own impressive display of flashing strobes and pulsing noise. The deputy waved an arm directing them to a spot close to the barn. Before the ambulance crew finished unloading their gurney, another vehicle roared around the side of the house, brakes rasping a squeal as it stopped. Eric's car. Both doors flew open. Delores popped from the driver's side and jogged toward us. Eric, Delores's barn manager, followed at a quick walk.
'I called right after I hung up from the 9-1-1 operator,' Jorge said, heading off my question.
I could have hugged him. And I thought he'd spent all those 'anytime minutes' on my phone with the operator. I sat up a little straighter.
'You look like hell, missy,' Delores said.
I drew a breath, but was unable to speak. Cripes. I was going to cry.
Delores looked away, casting a critical eye on Jorge. 'You don't look much better. I see you found Blackie.'
'Yeah, among other things,' Jorge said.
Delores shook her head and strode off toward the barn and the deputy, with an extremely worried-looking Eric on her heels.
'I see she found Mr. Tall-dark-and-got-no-time-for-my-buds,' Jorge said, watching Eric's back.
'Jorge!' His snippy tone surprised my voice into use. Everyone liked Eric. I thought they were friends, despite Eric being his boss and a good ten years older.
Two more Snohomish County Sheriff's cars arrived, diverting my attention. Vehicles now clogged the once spacious area around the barn. How was I going to get the truck and trailer turned around? Delores could manage it. Or Eric. Jorge could probably do a better job of it than I could. I wanted to take Blackie and leave. Now. Did we have to wait to be dismissed? I glanced at Jorge. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees and swinging his feet while he watched the official activity. Damn. Even he knew we were going to have to wait. And we were probably going to have to give statements to someone. Double damn. I huddled deeper into my jacket, shivering again, and desperate for a distraction. Jorge's earlier comment about Eric was preferable to thinking about Valerie's body.
'What's with the attitude?' I asked, teeth chattering. 'I thought you and Eric were friends.'
'We are. Sorry. I should be glad he's got himself a lady, right? Guess I'm just jealous. Your sister's too old for me anyway, but she's mighty fine.'
My eyes widened and I snorted. Wishful thinking, kid. Yeah, Juliet was a 'major babe,' and at twenty-three, too old for Jorge, who'd just turned nineteen. I wondered who… 'Who's Eric dating?'
Jorge turned his attention from the police cars and leaned slightly away from me as his eyebrows shot up. 'Juliet. You mean you didn't know?'
'Juliet? My sister, Juliet?' Not possible. It was like trying to picture Mr. Darcy with Lucy Ricardo. Cripes. I was looking for a distraction, not another problem. What was going on here? I always knew who my little sister was dating. She regaled me with each new hunky guy's sterling qualities. She'd said nothing about Eric.
'Yeah. You know any others? It amazes me a hot woman like her would be interested in a boy scout like Eric. Didn't the last guy she was going with climb the outside of the Space Needle? Man, extreme to the max.'
I stared at Jorge, speechless for half a moment. 'The idiot got arrested before he went twenty feet.'
'Well, still…' Jorge shrugged and swung a leg.
Never mind Juliet and her heretofore poor choices in men. Even though Eric was a 'boy scout' there wasn't a woman on the planet who didn't know what my sister saw in him. But Eric – what was he thinking?
I turned my unseeing gaze to the police cars. Juliet was not making me happy right now. She'd just added secret-keeping to her recent spate of unreliability. I'd called her to come pick me up after last night's disastrous date with my now-likely-ex-boyfriend, but she never showed.
I'd sat in a popular tavern in downtown Seattle for an hour, which was where I'd run into Greg. He'd never paid much attention to me in the past, and really wasn't that obnoxious until right before I'd left. I hadn't expected the kiss. But now I couldn't help feeling sorry for him. When he heard about Valerie he was going to feel exponentially worse about last night's indiscretion.
This was insane. Every train of thought was leading me back to Valerie.
'I need to get statements from both of you.' An officer with aviator sunglasses and shaved head startled me out of my brooding. He stood with his feet well apart, and chest thrown out, holding a large notebook against one hip and his fist on the other. He looked from me to Jorge lips compressed into a frown. 'Which one of you found the body?'
'I did.' The body, not Valerie or Miss Parsons. Two words reduced her to the status of road kill. Just how many
