Ghost Horse Page 3

  We’d made a start.

  On my way out, I paused at the tank to watch the colorful fish dart from one side to the other, through greenery and around the decorations that created an underwater fantasyland. A bright blue fish hid in a hollow castle tower, while a striped one disrupted the shiny stones at the bottom of the tank, making me wonder what he was hoping to find.

  “Great fish tank,” I said. “Do you take care of it yourself?”

  “Ever since I was a kid.” Nissa sounded as if she were old and worldly now. “Dad said if I wanted pets of any kind, I would have to take care of them. I don’t let anyone else touch the fish or the tank. I do everything myself.”

  “It’s really beautiful.”

  Nissa glowed at my compliment, and I silently congratulated Damian for giving his daughter a sense of responsibility at such a young age.

  I returned to my room, narrow but with a view of the woods and a glimpse of the bluffs and river beyond. This was definitely a servant’s room—twin bed, single chest of drawers topped with two fat candles, smallish oval mirror, rag rug on wooden floors, simple fireplace without embellishment. Everything was white or some shade of blue, cool and calming, if a little tattered.

  This had been Dawn’s room. I wondered that she hadn’t complained to me. Dawn liked space and brilliant colors and luxuries. Perhaps she’d been content with the view from two directions, this being a corner room. Or perhaps it had been the male company—Damian and his younger brother, Alex—that had made her content here. Dawn had always needed men around her, had needed their attention to make her feel worthy.

  A noise overhead like a scrape of nails on board sent an uncomfortable sensation down my spine. Well, I had been warned the attic was off-limits to me, so whoever was up there was none of my business.

  I glanced at my laptop sitting on my bed and decided to check my e-mail since the house was set up for wireless. Of course, what I looked for as I did each day was an e-mail from Dawn—we’d been in contact at least once a week until she’d disappeared.

  Nothing.

  The note she’d left, saying she was eloping, had been enough to keep the authorities from starting a missing persons search. That, plus the fact that there had been no suspicion of foul play. An adult was allowed to be missing if she so pleased, and the authorities wouldn’t get involved.

  At least, that’s what the head of the agency who’d sent us both here had told me. I’d waited and waited to hear from Dawn, telling me she was happily married. I never did. But it just wasn’t like Dawn not to check in with me, her best friend. Especially if she’d gotten married! I applied for the tutor position myself via the same employment agency she’d used. Rather than deal with the situation via long-distance telephone, I’d decided to come and do so in person, from the inside. I wanted to see that elopement note myself, to see if the signature was really Dawn’s. I wondered if the note still existed.

  Somehow, I had to find out what happened to my friend. Something was wrong with that story—I knew it. I could feel it in my bones—Dawn was in trouble.

  Booming male voices jarred me out of my thoughts. Two men were having a heated discussion outside, practically below my window. I recognized one of the voices as Damian’s, but I didn’t have a clue as to who the other man was. I moved to the window to see.

  “I told you more than once, Relentless is not for sale,” Damian said.

  “C’mon, man, everyone knows you’re in trouble here after losing Centaur. You can recoup some of your losses.”

  “Not if I don’t have stallions to bring in the stud fees that keep this place running.”

  The man with Damian was of equal height and build, but his hair was lighter. He seemed to be good-looking in an ordinary way.

  “You can’t afford to be so dismissive, Graylord.”

  “Listen, Larson, tell your old man he’s not going to get hold of my farm or my stock.”

  “You should have sold us Centaur when we made you an offer. Don’t make that mistake again.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “I meant it as good advice, but take it as you will!”

  With that, the stranger spun on his heel and stalked away.

  Even from this distance, I could see the tension gripping Damian. He looked as if he wanted to punch someone or something, but in the end, he, too, stalked off.

  Watching Damian head for the barns, I had trouble taking my eyes off his imposing figure. Why would he be so angry that someone had made an offer to buy one of the stallions? Or perhaps he wasn’t angry with the man but with his own situation. Apparently he’d lost a stallion….

  I shook my head. The farm’s troubles and finances were not my concern. Nissa was.

  My mind wandered to what Nissa had told me about her mother’s disappearance.

  I came to Graylord Pastures to solve one mystery, and now it seemed I had two. Priscilla Graylord. Dawn had said nothing about the woman being dead.

  Now curious to find out more about Nissa’s mother, I wandered down the back stairs into the kitchen where Merle Pope was humming to herself as she cooked. Merle was a short, round woman with a pleasant way about her. She was the only one who’d smiled at me since I arrived.

  I sniffed the air. “Something smells wonderful.”

  “Dinner. Pork roast with roasted potatoes and asparagus. Haven’t started the asparagus yet. It only needs to cook for five minutes. Most people overcook it, you know, so that you can’t hold out a stalk but what it droops. It’s best lightly cooked so there’s a bit of crunch left to the stalk. Then it has a slight nutty flavor.”

  “I’m sure it will be delicious. Oh, I’m making assumptions here.” For all I knew, I could be relegated to the kitchen and a different menu altogether.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be eating with the family,” Merle said. “The table needs a woman, what with the harridan gone.”

  “You’re not talking about the last teacher?”

  “Dawn? No, she was all right once you got to know her. I was referring to Mr. Damian’s ex-wife.”

  “She’s not dead, then?”

  “Whatever gave you that idea? Ah, Miss Nissa. Poor child.” Merle clucked to herself.

  “It is a shame that her mother never sees her.”

  “It’s a blessing, if you want my opinion.”

  “Your opinion is not called for in family matters,” said Mrs. Avery, having entered the kitchen unannounced. “You should be concentrating on dinner.” Then she looked at me. “And you, miss, should keep your nose where it belongs.”

  Merle simply rolled her eyes at me.

  Dinnertime couldn’t come fast enough. The dining room was formal, the furnishings probably original to the house. I admired the intricately carved legs of the table and buffet. The wood was beautiful, but once again I thought the room had gone too long without proper attention. The formal draperies were frayed and needed replacing, the walls needed a fresh coat of paint, and the fireplace mantel could use a bit of restoration.

  Alone in the room, I stared out the windows. The fog was rising, and a rumble in the distance told me rain was coming.

  A few minutes later I found myself seated across from Nissa. Damian took the head of the table, while the place across from him remained conspicuously unoccupied.

  “We won’t be waiting for Alex,” Damian told Mrs. Avery. “If he can’t get himself to the table on time, he can eat whatever is leftover.”

  “Yes, Mr. Damian.”

  “Never fear, your brother is here,” came a voice from the next room.

  I turned to see a younger, more conventionally handsome version of the older Graylord brother enter the dining room and approach the table. His hair was lighter, medium golden brown, and his eyes were a less intense shade of blue. He went past his waiting chair and straight to Nissa. He kissed her on the cheek.

  “How’s my favorite niece?”

  “You mean your only niece.”

  Though she protested, Nissa was enth
ralled by her uncle, if the color in her cheeks was any indication.

  Alex swept around the table toward me. “And you must be the new tutor, Chloe Morgan.” He took my hand and kissed it. “Enchanted.”

  “Lord, Alex, do sit down and behave yourself.”

  Alex ignored his brother and held my gaze. “Am I behaving quite terribly?”

  “I find you quite charming, Mr.—”

  “Alex. Without the mister, thank you. We’re very informal here.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Well, I’m informal.”

  “Alex!”

  Alex gave Damian an amused look. “All right, devil-boy, I’m sitting.”

  Devil-boy? Damian? I glanced at him from under my lashes, but Damian was snapping his cloth napkin open and calling over Mrs. Avery to serve. She carried plates of food from the buffet and set them on the chargers before each one of us.

  “You wouldn’t think it to look at him now,” Alex told me in a loud whisper, “but my brother was once quite a hooligan. That’s what Mother used to call him.”

  “Enough reminiscing,” Damian growled, his eyes practically shooting sparks at his brother, “or your food will get cold.”

  Alex laughed and Nissa put her napkin to her mouth to cover her smirk. I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t react at all. I found it hard to believe Damian was ever a fun-loving boy.

  As we ate, Damian didn’t say much, almost as if he was lost in his own head. Every once in a while he gave me a piercing look. I felt his eyes on me as clearly as a touch.

  “I heard you had a visit from Jack Larson this afternoon,” Alex said suddenly.

  Damian grunted. “Made me another offer for Relentless.”

  “Big surprise. I assume you told him no?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t at least consider the offer?”

  Damian’s expression darkened. “That would be the start of the end.” But then he seemed to catch himself and gave his daughter a quick look. “Everything is going to work out all right. No need to worry.”

  Alex, too, gave Nissa a quick look. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s talk about something more pleasant….”

  Alex turned the conversation on a dime. I found his presence welcome. For the rest of the meal, he kept the mood at the table light and Nissa giggling.

  I warmed to him and imagined Dawn being drawn to his personality, as well.

  For weeks before she’d disappeared, Dawn had teased me via her daily e-mails about a possible romance in the making. This might have worked in with the elopement story if she hadn’t claimed both Graylord brothers were courting her. She’d never mentioned any other man. The whole time she wrote me, I suspected Dawn’s vivid imagination had been at work again. From the time we were teenagers, I realized Dawn was so desperate for love that she thought any man who was kind to her had deeper feelings.

  Both of the Graylord men were attractive and compelling—Damian with power, Alex with charm.

  Damian with Dawn? I couldn’t see it. I’d only met him this morning and already I figured Dawn with her outgoing ways probably exasperated him. But Alex was much cooler and fun loving. He’d probably liked Dawn.

  A sudden thought had me gulping a great swallow of water so that I could get my food down. What if Dawn had a thing with Alex and Damian had disapproved? How far would Damian go to see that his brother didn’t hook up with the wrong sort of woman—one who came from no money or social standing?

  Would he make her disappear?

  Like his wife?

  “I NEED TO WORK OFF some energy after that wonderful meal,” I said to Nissa as we pushed away from the table after consuming big slices of homemade berry pie. “A walk is in order. Would you like to join me?”

  She smiled. “Sure—”

  “Not tonight,” Damian said.

  “Dad!”

  “It’s going to rain—”

  “I won’t melt.”

  “—and you know I don’t want you off the grounds after dark.”

  Damian flashed me a look I interpreted as a warning. As if I would know his rules without his telling me.

  “We’ll walk tomorrow, then. In full daylight. Assuming the sun is out.” I couldn’t help my sarcasm, but if Damian noticed, he didn’t respond.

  “Dad, you’ve got to stop treating me like a baby!”

  “You’ll always be my baby.”

  “Eeeouw!”

  Nissa raced up the stairs, her father following at a more leisurely pace as I headed for the front door.

  “Walking at night alone isn’t wise.”

  I turned to find Damian stopped halfway up the stairs. “Are you saying being outside in this area isn’t safe?”

  “You don’t know the territory. If you’re set on it, take one of the flashlights by the door.” He pointed to a rack that also held umbrellas. “Accidents happen in the dark. And in the rain.”

  I ignored the shiver that slid through me. “Normally I run. If I don’t get some fresh air and exercise, I’ll have trouble getting to sleep.”

  “There are other things you can do to sleep.”

  Before I could ask him to clarify, he was gone. Alex was still there, leaning against the dining room doorjamb. He grinned at me and his expression was appreciative.

  “You’re not quite the lamb you seem.”

  “We all have our strengths.”

  “Mmm, quiet strength…perhaps the most effective suit of all,” Alex said, narrowing his gaze on me. “I would take that walk with you, but unfortunately I have prior plans.”

  Feeling a bit itchy under his intense gaze, I said, “I’ll be fine.”

  “As long as you don’t get caught in the storm. Until tomorrow, then….”

  We both stepped outside. He went to the Jaguar sitting in the drive, and I grabbed a flashlight before heading into the damp evening without a raincoat or umbrella. I liked the rain and getting wet didn’t scare me. Besides, I’d driven all day and needed to stretch my legs. I headed away from the pastures and gazebo and toward the stand of trees between the house and river bluffs. The night was warm and soft with mist. I was drawn to water—kind of natural since I lived so close to Lake Michigan. I ran along the lake or rode on the bike path nearly every day, weather permitting.

  I sensed the river ahead and I was drawn to it.

  Thunder rumbled closer now and lightning sent shards of white through the sky, but I was oblivious to the threat of the imminent storm. The walk to the bluffs was short. Once I was in the open, away from the trees, the wind buffeted me, and the rush of the river’s current was like a song in my blood. I stood there, quiet, my eyes closed for a moment, and expanded my mind. A type of meditation had seen me through a lot of bad times, and I used it now to keep me on an even keel.

  I think of Dawn…my friend…my foster sister… I see her beautiful face…smiling…eyes sparkling…that mischievous look she gets when she’s going to do something she knows she shouldn’t.

  “Dawn,” I call to her, “where are you? Why have you abandoned me? Has something happened to you?”

  The smile on her face melts…her eyes widen and the look in them is unsettling, as if she’s afraid…or perhaps horrified.

  “What happened to you?” I ask, feeling choked by the emotions that suddenly surge through me as I face what I fear the most. “Tell me. Give me some sign.”

  But her image begins to waver…my pulse pounds as I try to keep Dawn’s face sharp in my mind… I am defeated when she melts into the ether….

  I opened my eyes. I was crying and the evening mist was turning to drizzle and slicking my face. The change in temperature was forcing clouds of fog from the river up over the bluffs to drift along the earth and then rise in anemic plumes. For a moment I felt lost in a nightmare land where I was alone and vulnerable.

  As I headed back toward the house, a soft sound echoed across the bluffs—the blowing sound a horse made through its nose when running
. But surely no horse was out there, not at night. Not alone. Damian Graylord wouldn’t risk his prize stock.

  Still, I heard the even thud of shod feet on earth and more horselike breathing. I moved toward the sounds, which seemed to be coming through some trees, and moved the flashlight beam around. Nothing. I whistled low. If a horse had gotten loose from its pasture, I meant to take it back. I whistled again as the rain started hitting the treetops harder. It was relatively dry in the fog-fingered woods. I got a glimpse of pale hide through the trees and whistled again.

  Suddenly I saw it—a gray horse wheeled around through the mists and, looking like something out of a dream, headed for me too fast. It didn’t slow, and I was directly in its path. I jumped out of the way and bounced against a tree trunk and lost my flashlight just before the horse nearly ran me over.

  Heart thundering, I gathered myself together, but when I looked down the path, the horse was gone and all I saw in the electrical zap of lightning was the stillness of an eerie, translucent landscape.

  It was as if the horse had faded into the mists.

  Chapter Three

  A crack of thunder loud enough to shake the trees made me quake inside. The following series of lightning strikes sent shafts of light like narrow swords through the woods around me, and I realized my foolishness. Lightning was drawn to tall objects, trees in particular. Most forest fires were started by an electrical storm.

  I couldn’t find the dropped flashlight, so I started for the house but danced in a circle to see if I could catch another glimpse of the horse among the trees. I didn’t.

  I left the woods and started across an open space, the ground beneath my feet quickly turning into muck from the downpour. I rushed as if I was afraid of getting wet, when in reality, it was my fear of what happened to Dawn that was chasing me. I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to believe I would find her whole and well and happily married—holed up somewhere, oblivious of anything but love—and that I would have reason to scold her for giving me the scare of my life.

  Only I didn’t believe it.

  So I ran with my head down, trying not to think, trying not to let my mind follow the darker path. I forced myself faster, narrowing my focus on the ground in front of me where I would step next.