Purebred Page 7

  “I think we should get going,” Cat said, brushing by him in a way that made him want to convince her they needn’t rush.

  But before he could do anything about it, she mounted her horse. He took her cue and followed. She moved her horse uphill, back to the trail, and whistled for the dogs, but they continued to kick up a fuss.

  Now Cat looked concerned as she focused on a spot ahead and halfway down the ravine. “What are they doing, going way down there?” She gave them another sharp whistle but they didn’t stop. “Smokey! Topaz! Come back, now!”

  The dogs ignored her. They didn’t slow until they reached the bottom of the ravine. The barking took a more frantic tone.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, it sounded as if they were calling Cat, Aidan thought, concentrating and tuning out everything but their high-pitched voices. Though he mostly had experience communicating with horses, it wasn’t all that hard to read the dogs. They were telling her to come look at what they’d found, and it wasn’t anything good.

  “Probably a dead animal,” Cat said, then whistled for the dogs again.

  For a moment, Aidan thought they would come, but they stood their ground. Topaz started whining. Smokey started digging.

  “All right, I’m going have to go see what big discovery they made.” She groaned. “I’m sure it’ll be something disgusting.”

  Cat edged her mount off the path and zigzagged down the ravine. Feeling oddly tense, Aidan followed. Something about the tone of the dogs’ voices got to him deep in his core. Remembering the night’s dream that had kept him awake until dawn, he knew this wasn’t good.

  Both dogs were digging now, making whining noises that made it sound as if they were crying. This wasn’t a fun find for them. The dogs were freaked out and, his gut clenching, Aidan was certain he knew why.

  When they got to the bottom of the ravine, Aidan felt as if he was experiencing this for the second time.

  As if last night’s rain had bloated the creek to overflow its banks and wash away the earth to expose it, a man’s booted foot stuck out of the ground.

  Then Cat yelped and jumped off her horse and ran to the dogs, who were digging furiously. Aidan dismounted and joined her, put an arm around her back to support her as they got a better look at what Smokey and Topaz uncovered—a bloated face, skin tinged a green-blue and blistered, tongue protruding, fluid oozing from the mouth and nostrils, maggots eating their way through the side of the dead man’s head where it had been opened by some heavy object.

  Cat let out a horrific cry and clung to him. His instinct to protect her made Aidan hold her close as he said a silent prayer for the dead man at their feet.

  “I knew it,” she said, her tone ripe with horror. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his arms, as if she needed to anchor herself to him. “I knew something was wrong, but no one believed me.”

  “I don’t understand. You recognize the man?”

  “This is my missing barn manager.” She choked out the words. “George Odell.”

  Chapter Eight

  “He would have been in a state of deterioration that would have made him unrecognizable if whoever killed him hadn’t buried him,” Detective Wade Pierce said when they convened in Cat’s kitchen two hours later. “Three weeks exposed to the air and—”

  “Please. What we saw was horrific enough,” Aidan said.

  Guilt crept up Cat’s spine. Not the guilt of having sex with a man she hardly knew, but having it within a hundred yards of a dead man she’d known all her life. She made fists in her lap as she thought about what they’d been doing when the dogs had made the initial discovery. Not exactly a way she would have chosen to honor George. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She couldn’t have known, of course, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

  All these weeks…she should have suspected her barn manager was dead…should have investigated herself…should have found his remains before anything happened between her and Aidan. Seeing him that way right after having exciting, heart-pounding sex…

  Cat swallowed hard.

  She’d thought having sex with another man would obliterate any memories of Jack from her mind. And now she didn’t know if she could ever have sex again.

  “Who could have done this?” she whispered.

  Pierce said, “Hopefully my men will get a lead from something in his trailer.”

  Sitting across the table from him, Cat made eye contact with the trim and fit if seasoned detective, who looked to be in his early fifties by the creases in his face.

  “I knew something was wrong when George disappeared. I made a complaint to your department,” she reminded Pierce in a forced-steady voice, “but no one would believe me.”

  “I remember. I also remember asking if you knew who had something against him and you didn’t have any reason to believe there was foul play. Any new thoughts there?”

  George’s body had already been taken to the morgue, though the evidence technicians were still investigating the burial site. She and Aidan had already told the detective in detail how they’d found the body. Just not what they’d been doing while the dogs had been investigating.

  She shook her head. “In the past three weeks, I’ve gone over and over what could have happened to make him simply vanish. I got nothing. George was a sweetheart and a hard worker and he kept to himself mostly.”

  “What about when he had to deal with other people? He was your barn manager, after all. What about his relationship with your other workers?”

  Cat didn’t want to believe one of her farm employees was capable of murder. She met Aidan’s gaze. He gave her an encouraging nod and placed a reassuring hand over hers.

  Biting back the tears she wanted to shed, Cat said, “He got along with them fine. Mostly.”

  “What do you mean by ‘mostly’?”

  “Like you said, he was my barn manager. Sometimes he had to ride a little hard on someone to make sure the work got done.”

  “Ride on who?” Pierce asked. “The kids?”

  “Vincent and Laura? Yeah, sure, once in a while, but they want to be here. In addition to their wages, they get to take out the horses on the trails when their work is done, so they went out of their way to please George.”

  “What about your men, Ayala and Hansen?”

  “Raul’s a good worker. Bernie, too, but he’s young. He didn’t like being bossed around, that’s all.”

  “Any real altercations?”

  “Physical? No, of course not. Just a few arguments about how Bernie did things. George thought Bernie cut too many corners.” Unable to sit any longer, Cat got to her feet and moved to the sink where she turned her back on the men and quickly swiped the moisture from her eyes. “I would swear George didn’t have an enemy in the world.”

  “Obviously he had one,” Aidan said.

  Cat’s stomach clutched as she remembered the shocking way they’d discovered the body, the sickening sight of the bashed-in head. If Aidan hadn’t been there for support, both moral and physical, she didn’t know how she would have gotten through this.

  Scribbling something in his notebook, Pierce then turned his gaze on the Irishman. “What about you, Mr. McKenna? Any thoughts?”

  Aidan shrugged. “I didn’t even know the man. I only arrived here in Illinois yesterday.”

  “To what purpose?”

  “To race my colt, Mac Finnian. He’s in the stable now.” Aidan checked his watch. “As a matter of fact, we’re due at the track to get everything set up for his move there in a little more than an hour. Should one of us call and reschedule for tomorrow?”

  “I don’t see that’ll be necessary.” Detective Pierce thought for a moment, then mused, “Odd that you found the victim at all, considering where he was buried.”

  “Cat was simply showing me the lay of the land. ’Twas the dogs who found him, as we told you,” Aidan said. “They wouldn’t come to her command, so she went to fetch them or we wouldn’t have found the body and the man’s whereabouts
would still be a mystery.”

  Pierce nodded and put away his notebook.

  “The question is,” Aidan went on, “where was the man killed? Surely not in the ravine. A convenient place to bury him, but what would he have been doing out there in the first place?”

  “Well, that would be the question, wouldn’t it?”

  “That didn’t even occur to me.” Cat didn’t want to consider George might have been killed somewhere on the farm. “He could have been killed anywhere. Even in town.”

  “Quite right.” Pierce got up to leave. “That’ll be all for now.”

  Staring out the kitchen window, Cat saw Laura and Vincent outside the barn, police officers rushing around them. Laura was crying and Vincent was trying to console her. He wrapped his arms around the girl as she sobbed into his chest. His expression told Cat he was ready to break down himself. She felt sorry for the kids—they were so young, they couldn’t hide their grief at losing someone to whom they’d been so close.

  “Anything we can do for you, Detective,” Aidan was saying.

  “I want to see what we come up with—if anything. Then talk to your workers—”

  “Not the kids,” Cat said. Laura was upset enough.

  “Everyone. The kids might have noticed something important. That includes the owners who have their stock stabled here, by the way. Dean Hill is one of them, right?”

  Cat nodded. “He’s here for the long haul. His horses will be here until after they foal, at least. Martin Bradley has several mares here, but that’s only until they conceive.” And if Jack really went through with his plan to give his fiancée the broodmares he’d taken from her, Martin would undoubtedly want to bring in even more. “Hershel Miller and Audrey Rockwell have a couple of mares here to be bred, as well.”

  Several new broodmares were scheduled to come to be covered in the following week. At least she hoped their owners wouldn’t change their minds—one never knew what damage gossip would do.

  Speaking of damage…Cat couldn’t believe it when the red truck pulled up outside. Oh, great. Jack. Just what she needed. Her ex-husband certainly knew how to make an entrance at the worst times. Had he already heard about George and was here to put in his two cents? She closed her eyes and collected herself—she wouldn’t let Jack make her break down in tears. She wouldn’t.

  “You never know what they might have noticed that you didn’t,” Pierce said. “Plus I’m going to do some asking around town.”

  Thinking he should have done that three weeks ago when she first reported George missing, Cat clenched her jaw. She didn’t have to like it, but she could see his side of the matter.

  “We’ll talk again,” Pierce promised. “Soon.”

  Cat escorted the detective out of the house, satisfied that she’d gotten her emotions under control. Aidan followed close behind her. She wished he would take a step back. If Pierce noticed how protective he was being, she didn’t want to have to explain herself. Not that what she did, or with whom, was any of his business.

  Nor was it Jack’s.

  Her ex-husband stomped into the middle of things. “What’s going on here?”

  Cat kept her focus on Pierce, who stopped at his vehicle. “So you’ll keep me informed, right?”

  “As much as I can.” He opened the car door. “Gonna drive over to the trailer. Got a corn that’s practically killing me.” Pierce jiggled his right foot.

  “Hey, I asked a question.” Jack appeared to be fuming at being ignored. “Detective Pierce?”

  Pierce looked from Jack to Cat, who couldn’t hide her displeasure.

  “How well did you know George Odell?” he asked her ex-husband.

  “Well, enough, I guess. I did live here for more than a year. You still didn’t answer my question.”

  Pierce continued his interrogation. “How well did you get along with Odell?”

  “I don’t form relationships with the hired help.”

  “Because they don’t have money or influence,” Cat added.

  Before Jack could jump on her, Pierce asked, “Does that mean you didn’t get along?”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something I should know?” Jack demanded.

  “George Odell is dead.”

  Jack shrugged. “Too bad, but he was old, lived a good life.”

  Shocked at his attitude, Cat stared, openmouthed.

  Then Aidan said, “He was murdered.”

  Cat glanced at him. His gaze was glued to her ex-husband.

  Jack didn’t react for a moment, then exploded. “Wait a minute—you don’t think I had anything to do with it?” He turned a furious expression on Cat. “What have you been telling these men? Are you trying to get even with me because I left you for another woman?”

  “Your name never even came up, Jack,” Cat assured him. But maybe it should have. “George disappeared before I was called back from Ireland to meet you in divorce court.”

  “So what?”

  “So you took as much as you could from me. How do I know you weren’t snooping around the farm, seeing what you could put your hands on? Maybe George caught you and you—”

  “Bitch!” Jack yelled, stepping toward Cat threateningly.

  Aidan got between them. “That’ll be enough now. Cat doesn’t need you giving her more trouble.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “A friend of the lass. I would not threaten her if I were you.”

  “All right, all right, let’s just calm down here,” Pierce said, then turned to Jack. “What about it? Were you here at Clarke Acres while your ex-wife was in Ireland?”

  “She was still my wife then.”

  “Not so as anyone would know it,” Cat said.

  “Were you here?” Pierce repeated.

  “Yeah, once. I had a right to be here, since we were still married. I didn’t want her trying to put one over on me in court, so I was checking things out for myself. I figured if she was out of the country on a buying trip, she had more assets than I realized. But I didn’t kill George. Never even saw him.”

  Only once? Knowing how easily lies tripped off his lips, Cat would be surprised if that was the truth.

  “Who did you see?” Pierce asked.

  “Bernie. He can vouch for me. I was only here for half an hour.”

  Having expected him to say Martin Bradley, Cat started.

  “I’ll check with him about it,” the detective said, getting into his vehicle. “In the meantime, take McKenna’s advice and back off.”

  He headed the car for the other side of the barn where the trailers were located.

  “I would suggest you leave now,” Aidan told Jack.

  “This isn’t your property!”

  Aidan turned to Cat. “Do you want him here?”

  “No. Leave, Jack. Now.”

  Aidan got right up in Jack’s face. “You heard the lass.”

  Cat watched breathlessly to see what her ex-husband would do. The men engaged in a staring match that seemed to go on forever. To her satisfaction, Jack looked away first.

  “Our business isn’t settled,” he warned her, as he made for his shiny new red truck.

  Cat didn’t bother answering him lest he warm up to the argument and torture her further.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, as the truck’s wheels spun gravel. Earlier she’d been comparing him to Jack because of the money issue, but at the moment it seemed they were nothing alike. Aidan had taken a stand to protect her. “I don’t think I could have gone another round with him today.”

  “At your service,” Aidan said. “Anytime.”

  Cat swallowed hard. Only here two days, and Aidan had become a complication that she wasn’t sure she wanted.

  * * *

  HOW THE HELL had they found George Odell’s body? They’d taken it out deep into the woods, had buried it in a steep ravine way off the trail near the creek.

  Damn dogs.

  At least they hadn’t found t
he suitcase.

  He’d been careful to pack just enough clothes to make everyone believe George had gone somewhere on a whim and would be back shortly. No one would have ever guessed he was dead and buried.

  Good thing they hadn’t buried the suitcase with him.

  Good thing he’d thought to wipe it down, get rid of his fingerprints.

  Good thing he’d had the sense to fling it into the creek.

  Undoubtedly the suitcase had been washed away and was miles from here by now, maybe had landed in one of the little lakes that dotted this part of the state. The police would never find it.

  But they’d be looking.

  He felt his nerves fray. They’d be looking not only for the suitcase, but for any kind of clue to George’s murder.

  His stomach churned and bile filled his esophagus. He pulled some antacids from his pocket and chewed them.

  How had this happened? He hadn’t meant for anyone to die.

  Swallowing hard, he told himself again that he wasn’t really a murderer. He hadn’t planned it. He’d simply done what he had to do to protect himself, was all. Not that the police would understand.

  They’d be talking to people, too.

  Only one other person knew how George had died. Only two people other than he would know why the barn manager had died.

  Now he had them to worry about. Would they keep their mouths shut? What if they shared what they knew with someone else?

  Another shot of bile made it into his mouth. He took out more antacid. As long as no one had been asking questions, he’d figured he’d be safe.

  They’d now be asking questions of everyone who knew George.

  Could he trust his two partners in crime to keep their mouths shut?

  If they didn’t, they’d be implicated, too, he thought. They could be arrested and serve time, so why wouldn’t they keep silent?

  What if one of them wanted to make a deal in lieu of a sentence? a little voice asked.

  He was the one with blood on his hands.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide them, told himself to stop obsessing before he went out of his mind.