Dark Horse

21

There is nothing so humbling to a self-proclaimed cynic than to be so deeply affected by something as to be knocked breathless by it.

I literally felt the blood drain from my head when Landry told me about the body. He left me standing in the hall and went to tell Bruce Seabright.

Was it Erin? How had she died? Had she died because I'd failed her? What a selfish thought. If Erin was dead, the blame went first to the perpetrator, second to Bruce Seabright. In terms of culpability, I ranked way down the list. I thought perhaps it wasn't Erin, and in the next microsecond thought it couldn't be anyone else.

"What's happened?"

Molly suddenly appeared at my side. My tongue, which was usually quicker than my brain, was stuck in my mouth.

"Is it about Erin?" she asked, frightened. "Did somebody find her?"

"We don't know." It was the truth, but it tasted like a lie, and it must have sounded like one too. Molly took a step back from me.

"Tell me. I deserve to know. I'm not some-some stupid child everyone has to talk around and hide things from," she said angrily.

"No, you're not, Molly," I said. "But I don't want to scare you without knowing all the facts."

"You already have."

"I'm sorry." I took a breath to buy a moment so I could think through my delivery of the news. "Detective Landry just had a call from his captain. A body has been found at the equestrian center."

Her eyes went huge. "Is it Erin? Is she dead? It's because of the police. On the tape they said no police!"

"We don't know who it is, Molly," I said, taking hold of her by the shoulders. "But I can tell you, no one has killed Erin because Landry is here. The kidnappers have no way of knowing who he is or that he's from the Sheriff's Office."

"How do you know?" she demanded. "Maybe they're watching the house. Maybe the house is bugged!"

"That's not what's happened. The house is not bugged. That only happens in the movies. In real life, criminals are lazy and stupid. And whoever this dead body is, she's been dead longer than Landry has been in this house," I said. "I'm going to the show grounds now. I'll let you know as soon as I find out what's what."

"I'm coming with you," she said stubbornly.

"Absolutely not."

"But she's my sister!"

"And I'm doing my job. I can't have you there, Molly, for a whole list of reasons. And I don't want you there for a whole list of reasons."

"But I hate just sitting here," she argued. "Erin's in trouble. I want to help."

"If you want to help, keep your eyes open for any kind of a delivery. If the kidnappers send another video, we need to know about it the second it lands. That's your assignment. All right?"

I understood her frustration. She was the one person who had taken action to find Erin, and now she was being made to feel helpless.

"All right," she said on a sigh. I started to turn away. "Elena?"

"What?"

She looked up at me with wide eyes. "I'm really scared."

I touched her head as if I were giving some kind of benediction, wishing I had that kind of power, and knowing too well that I didn't. "I know. Hang in there. We're doing everything we can."

Landry came out of the office. Bruce Seabright did not emerge. I wondered if he was giving Krystal the news over the intercom.

"I'll call as soon as I know anything," I said to Molly, and went out the door, Landry right behind me.

"Do you know where barn forty is?" he asked.

"Yes. It's at the rear of the property. Follow me. I'll take you in the back way. It'll be much faster. Do you have any details?"

He shook his head. "Not that made any sense to me. The lieutenant said somebody dug her up. I don't know what that means-if it's a fresh body or a skeleton or what."

"We'll find out soon enough," I said, going around the front of my car. That sounded like a lie too. Every minute I didn't know felt like an hour. Because of Molly. I didn't want to have to tell her her sister was dead.

I took a route from Binks Forest through Aero Club-a housing development for people with their own planes-on to Palm Beach Point, to the dirt road that led to the back gate of the equestrian center. The gate where Erin Seabright had been snatched nearly a week before. Barn forty was in The Meadows, just beyond that gate.

As it was every weekend during the season, the area was bustling with riders and grooms and dogs and kids; cars and trucks and golf carts and motor bikes. The biggest crowd, however, was gathered around a rusty yellow front-end loader and a dump truck parked near one of the three-sided muck pits out in front of the tents. I could see a number of blue shirts. Security. A white and green county cruiser had parked in the mud at the edge of the road.

I pulled into a parking spot opposite the excitement, grabbed a hat out of my backseat, and got out of the car. Landry stopped in the road and opened his window. I leaned down and said, "You don't know me."

He rolled his eyes. "My fondest wish."

He drove ahead and pulled up alongside the radio car.

My heart was thumping as I neared the scene. I asked a girl with a ponytail sticking out the back of a baseball cap if she knew what had happened.

She looked excited. "They found a dead body."

"God. Does anybody know who it is?"

"Someone said a groom. I don't know."

I moved past her and threaded my way around the crowd. The security guards were telling people to go back to what they had been doing. The driver of the dump truck was sitting on his running board, blank-faced, hands hanging down between his knees. The driver of the front-end loader was standing beside his machine, gesturing as he spoke with a security guard, the deputy, and Landry.

I had reached the front of the mob. Beyond the loader, the muck pit was half dug out. Sticking out of the pile was a human arm. Female, purple fingernails, a cuff of bracelets sparkling in the blazing sun. A horse blanket had been thrown over whatever other body parts had been exposed.

"Miss?" Landry said, coming over to me. "The guard said you might be able to help us. If you could…"

"Oh- I don't know. I'm sure I couldn't," I said for the benefit of the spectators who were looking at me and wondering who the hell I was.

Landry took me by the arm and led me, protesting, toward the muck pit. When we were out of earshot of the crowd, he said, "The guy was cleaning out this pit and dug her up. Buried in shit. There's respect for the dead. He says this pit hasn't been cleaned out since Thursday, but it was emptied to the ground then."

"If it's Erin, I want ten minutes alone with Bruce Seabright and a large serrated knife."

"I'll hold him down, you cut his heart out."

"Deal."

Making a face at the smell of manure and urine, he leaned over the body and lifted the edge of the horse blanket.

I steeled myself for the worst. The body was white and stiff. Smudged mascara, blue eye shadow, and berry-red lipstick gave the face the impression of a macabre work of art. There was a thumb-sized bruise on the cheek. Her mouth was partially open, crumbled chunks of old manure spilling out.

I let go of my held breath, relieved and sickened at once. "It's Jill Morone."

"You know her?"

"Yes. And guess who she worked for."

Landry frowned. "Don Jade. She told me yesterday she was sleeping with him."

"Yesterday? What were you doing out here?" I asked, forgetting the audience, forgetting the role I was supposed to be playing.

He looked perturbed and wouldn't meet my eyes. "Following up on your assault."

"Gee. And I thought you didn't care."

"I care that you caused me paperwork," he complained. "Get out of here, Estes. Go play dilettante. Make yourself useful."

I put on a tragic face for the onlookers and hurried away to my car, where I called Molly Seabright to tell her her sister wasn't dead… as far as I knew. Then I set off to Don Jade's barn in search of a killer.