'Why does Seabright think otherwise?'
Landry shrugged. 'Why does he think anything? He's a fucking asshole. He thinks it's a good idea to let perverts have an eighteen-year-old girl so they can beat her with a whip.'
'What do you know about Estes in relation to this case?' Dugan asked. His face was tight with temper.
'I know there wouldn't be a case if she hadn't come into this office and told me what was going on,' Landry said.
'She's involved in this.'
'It's a free country.'
'It's not that free,' Dugan snapped. 'Get her in here.'
37
Suddenly living in rural Loxahatchee made sense. Secluded, away from the throng of horse people, it was the perfect place to conduct a clandestine affair.
Apparently, Don Jade wasn't the only one in his barn willing to play bedroom games to further his cause. If Trey Hughes was in that house for something other than a discussion of how his horse had gone in the ring that day, then Paris Montgomery had snagged Jade's most affluent patron. With malice aforethought.
Or maybe Jade knew. Perhaps she had his blessing. Perhaps she was Jade's insurance policy for keeping Trey's attention.
My gut said no. I had witnessed no overt displays of affection between Paris and Trey. Their interaction at the barn had appeared to be nothing more than client and trainer.
Paris was a smart, ambitious girl. If Paris made Trey happy, Trey could certainly make Paris happy.
As I drove back to Wellington, I wondered if Paris knew Hughes had been involved with Michael Berne's wife before her. That certainly hadn't insured Michael a place in the posh new stables-or Stella Berne either, for that matter.
I wondered how long the affair had been going on. Hughes had taken his horses to Jade about nine months previous, meaning they had gone up to Jade's barn in the Hamptons for the summer. Trey had likely spent the summer there, soaking up the social swirl. A relationship might have sparked.
Turning these things over in my mind, I drove back to Wellington and swung by Sag Harbor Court.
The Mercedes Trey Hughes had loaned to Van Zandt was parked in the driveway. In the visitor parking spots down the street, two men in shirts and ties sat in a dark Ford Taurus.
Feds.
I parked a couple of slots down from the sedan and approached the vehicle from the front. The guy in the driver's seat rolled his window down.
'FYI guys,' I said, 'I saw him this morning driving a dark blue Chevy Malibu.'
The driver stared at me with cop eyes. 'I'm sorry?'
'Tomas Van Zandt. That's who you're supposed to be sitting on, right?'
They looked at each other, then back at me.
'Ma'am? Who are you?' the driver asked.
'I used to be a friend of that prick Armedgian. Tell him I said that.'
I left them sitting there like a couple of assholes, watching a car that probably hadn't left the driveway all day.
Tomas Van Zandt was a free man.
Until later…
I put my gun on the passenger seat of my car and drove home to wait.
There was no obvious sign of an intruder in the area of Sean's farm. I knew Sean would not have given Van Zandt the gate code. But my senses were humming just the same.
I parked my car at the barn and checked on the horses, walking down the aisle with gun in hand. I stopped to pet each horse, feeling my tension lessen a fraction at each stall. Oliver wanted to eat the gun. Feliki pinned her ears at me, to remind me who the alpha mare was, then expected a treat. D'Artagnon wanted only to have his neck scratched.
I thought of Erin Seabright as I performed the task, of the way she had laughed at Stellar in the video I'd found in Van Zandt's bedroom. I wondered if she let memories like that one comfort or torment her wherever she was, whatever was happening to her.
I wanted to call Landry and find out what had happened at the drop, but I wouldn't. He wasn't my friend or my confidant. He wouldn't appreciate my need to know. I hoped Molly would have called, but knew she wouldn't be the first to hear whatever news there was. Bruce would have been sent to the drop. Regardless of what transpired, there would be a postmortem of the operation at the Sheriff's Office. And during that time, no one would think or have the courtesy to let Molly know what was going on.
Nothing to do but wait, I thought, then remembered I had Paris Montgomery's cell phone in my car. I retrieved it on the way to the house and sat down with it at the writing desk.
The phone was a Nokia 3390. The voice mail icon indicated she had messages, but I had no way to retrieve them because I didn't know her password. I did know from experience, however, this model of phone automatically stored the last ten numbers dialed.
I scrolled to the last number dialed. 'Voice mailbox' appeared in the screen. I scrolled to the next call: Jane L-Cell. The next: Don-Cell.
Headlights flashed in the drive.
It wasn't Sean. I never saw Sean's lights when he drove in because he always went directly into the garage, which was on the far side of the main house.
Irina, perhaps.
Perhaps not.
I set the phone aside, picked up the Glock, turned off the only light I had on in the house, then went to look out the window.
The security light on the end of the stable didn't quite reach the car. But as the driver got out and came toward my house, I could tell by the way he carried himself it was Landry.
My heart beat faster. He would have news. Good or bad, he would have news. I opened the door before he made it to the patio. He stopped and put his hands up, his eyes on the gun still in my hand.
'Don't kill the messenger,' he said.
'Is it bad news?'
'Yes.'
'Is she dead?'
'Not that we know.'
I leaned against the door frame and let go a sigh, feeling relieved and sick at once. 'What happened?'
He told me about the drop, the taped message rigged with a timer, the videotape of Erin being beaten.
'My God,' I mumbled, rubbing my hands over my face, feeling it on only one side. In that moment, I wished all of me could have been numb. 'Oh, my God. That poor kid.'
You broke the rules. The girl will pay the price.
Breaking the rules had been my idea. I'd spent my entire life breaking rules and never thinking twice until it was too late. I never seemed to learn that lesson. Now Erin Seabright was paying the price.
I should have done something differently. If I hadn't been such a bully with Bruce Seabright, if I hadn't insisted on bringing the SO into the picture…
If I hadn't been me. If Molly had gone to someone else.
'Don't beat yourself up, Estes,' Landry said quietly.
I laughed.'But that's one of the few things I do really well.'
'No,' he murmured.
He was standing very close to me. Our shadows overlapped on the flagstone as the front door light washed down over us. If I'd been a different woman, I might have turned to him in that moment. But I couldn't remember
