unasked for advice that was ignored. The remaining FIB officers stood under the ancient oak that shadowed the parking lot. As I watched, a crime scene van pulled in with an exaggerated slowness. Captain Edden had called it after I found a body.
I snuck a glance at Trent, deciding the businessman looked a bit bothered if anything, as he stood in the informal room with his hands behind his back. Personally, I'd be visibly upset if someone was about to find an unexplained body on my property. I was sure this was where the unmarked grave had been shining.
Cold, I stepped off the covered walkway and into the sun. Hands gripping my elbows, I came to a halt in the sawdust parking lot, surreptitiously watching Trent from around a wisp of hair that had escaped my braid. He had put on a lightweight cream-colored hat against the sun and changed his shoes to boots in deference to our trip out to his stables. Somehow the mix looked right on him. It wasn't fair he should look so calm and relaxed. But then he jerked at the sound of a car door slamming. He was wound as tight as I was; he just hid it better.
Glenn said a few last, loud words and the group broke up. Tails waving, the dogs began a methodical search: two in the nearby pastures, one through the building itself, I couldn't help but notice that the handler assigned to the stables was using his skills, too, instead of relying on the dog's nose alone, looking up into rafters and opening latched panels.
Captain Edden touched his son's shoulder and headed toward me, short arms swinging. 'Rachel,' he said even before he was close, and I looked up, surprised he had used my first name. 'We've been over this building already.'
'If it isn't this building, then it's near here. Your men may not have been using my charms properly.'
Edden squinted from the low sun. 'Keep your panties on. Murder cases are won and lost in the collection of evidence, Morgan. You ought to know that.'
'I'm a runner, not a detective,' I said sourly. 'Most of the people I tagged were charged before I brought them in.'
He grunted at that. I thought that Captain Edden's adherence to 'the rules' might lead to Trent vanishing in a puff of smoke to never be seen again. Seeing me fidget, he pointed at me and then at the ground, to tell me to stay where I was before he moseyed down to Quen and Trent. The squat human's hands were in his pockets but not far from his weapon. Quen hadn't a weapon, but looking at him shifting lightly on his feet, I didn't think he needed one.
I felt better when Edden subtly moved the two men apart, snagging a passing officer and telling him to ask Quen to detail their security procedures while he talked to Trent about the upcoming FIB fund-raiser dinner. Nice.
I turned away, watching the sun shine on the dog's yellow coat. The heat soaked into me, and the smell of the stables was warm with memory. I had enjoyed my three summers at camp. The scent of sweaty horse and hay mixing with the hint of aged manure was like a balm.
My riding lessons had been to help increase my balance, improve my muscle tone, and up my red blood cell count, but I think its largest benefit had been the confidence I gained from being in control of a big beautiful animal that would do anything I asked of it. To an eleven-year-old, that feeling of power was addictive.
A smile curved over me and I closed my eyes, feeling the autumn sun soak deeper. My friend and I had snuck out of our camp house one morning to sleep in the stables with the horses. The soft sounds of their breathing had been indescribably comforting. Our cabin mother had been furious, but it was the best I had slept the entire time.
My eyes opened. It had probably been the only night I'd slept uninterrupted. Jasmin, too, had slept well at the stables. And the pale girl had desperately needed sleep.
The sound of radio chatter pulled my gaze from the field, leaving me feeling more melancholy than I would've expected. She had possessed an inoperable brain tumor. I didn't think even Trent's father's illegal activities could have fixed that.
My attention went to Trent. His green eyes were intent on me even as he talked to Edden, and I tugged my hat straight and tucked a wisp of hair behind an ear. Refusing to let him rattle me, I stared back. His gaze flicked behind me, and I turned as Sara Jane's red car pulled up with a scattering of sawdust beside the FIB vehicles.
The small woman bolted from her car, looking like a different person in her jeans and casual blouse. Slamming the door, she stalked forward. 'You!' she accused, coming to a flustered halt before me, and I took a surprised step back. 'This is your doing, isn't it!' she shouted up at me.
My face went blank. 'Uh.'
She put herself in my face, and I took another step back. 'I asked for your help in finding my boyfriend,' she said shrilly, eyes flashing. 'Not accuse my employer of murder! You are an
'Um,' I stammered, glancing at Edden for help. He and Trent were on their way over, and I backed up another step, holding my bag tight against me. I hadn't thought of this.
'Sara Jane,' Trent soothed even before he was close. 'It's all right.'
She spun to him, her blond hair catching the highlights of the sun. 'Mr. Kalamack,' she said, her face shifting abruptly to fear and worry. Eyes pinched, she wrung her hands. 'I'm sorry. I came as soon as I heard. I didn't ask her to come here. I—I…' Her eyes welled, and making a small noise, she dropped her head into her hands and started crying.
My lips parted in surprise. Was she worried about her job, her boyfriend, or Trent?
Trent gave me a dark look, as if it were my fault she was upset. It melted into genuine sympathy as he put a hand upon the small woman's shaking shoulders. 'Sara Jane,' he soothed, ducking his head to try and meet her eyes. 'Don't even think that I blame you for this. Ms. Morgan's accusations have nothing to do with you going to the FIB about Dan.' His wonderful voice rose and fell like puddles of silk.
'B-But she thinks you murdered those people,' she stammered, sniffing as she pulled her hands from her face and smeared her mascara into a brown blur under her eye.
Edden shifted uneasily from foot to foot. The radio chatter from the FIB vehicles rose over the crickets. I refused to feel sorry that I had made Sara Jane cry. Her boss was dirt, and the sooner she realized that, the better off she would be. Trent hadn't killed those people with his hands, but he had arranged it, making him as guilty as if he had carved them up himself. My thoughts went to the picture of the woman on the gunnery, and I steeled myself.
Trent pulled Sara Jane's gaze up with a gentle encouragement. I wondered at his compassion. I wondered how it would feel to have his beautiful voice soothing me, telling me that everything was all right. Then I wondered if there was a chance in hell of Sara Jane getting away from him with her life intact.
'Don't jump to conclusions,' Trent said, handing her a linen handkerchief embroidered with his initials. 'No one has been accused of anything. And there's no need for you to stay here. Why don't you go back home? This ugly business will be done as soon as we find the stray dog that Ms. Morgan's charm has fixed on.'
Sara Jane shot me a poisonous look. 'Yes sir,' she said, her voice harsh.
Edden cleared his throat. 'I'd ask Ms. Gradenko and yourself to stay here until we know more, sir.'
Trent's professional smile faltered. 'Are we being detained?'
'No sir,' he said respectfully. 'Merely a request.'
'Captain!' a dog handler shouted from the second floor landing. My heart pounded at the excitement in the man's voice. 'Socks didn't point, but we have a locked door.'
Adrenaline zinged through me. I looked at Trent. His face showed nothing.
Quen and a small man started forward, accompanied by an FIB officer. The short man was obviously a past jockey now turned manager. His face was leathered and wrinkled, and he had a wad of keys with him. They jingled as he pulled one off and handed it to Quen. Body tense with that unnerving liquid menace, Quen handed it in turn to
