Backstretch Baby (24 page)

She reached into the second bag and eagerly pulled out the rest of their purchases. Rick’s tournament winnings had been enough to buy three bridles as well as a shirt for Miguel. Of course, it was from the sales rack but the T-shirt matched the owner’s bright silks. Miguel was excited about handling Tizzy in public, and he’d feel even better if he had the perfect-colored shirt.

Best of all, she’d been able to buy a special toy for Joey—a stuffed pony that neighed when its stomach was pressed. Rick had noticed her wistfulness when she’d spotted it by the counter. He’d scooped it up, ignoring her objections, and added it to their purchases.

He was utterly generous and in no hurry to return to the track, even picking up sandwiches and stopping the bike by a sun-splashed brook for an afternoon picnic. He had a knack for whisking her off to scenic spots. Surprisingly, she’d stopped analyzing the upcoming races, or whether Miguel could really help Tizzy, or what shoddy trick Victoria might attempt next. Life was more fun with Rick around. It was definitely better rounded.

She glanced across the kitchen, still smiling her appreciation. But all she saw was Rick’s back.

He stood in front of the sink, gripping the sides of the counter and staring out the window. It was after five, and the women and children were gone. The only movement was Miguel and Tizzy as they wandered companionably around the barn, the horse selecting the sweetest grass while the groom scratched the crest of his shiny shoulder.

It was an idyllic scene. But Rick’s legs were braced. Even the muscles in his arms were taut, his posture totally different from earlier today when he’d coaxed her into a leisurely bike ride. To help them both relax, he’d said. To pick up the bridles and escape the hectic pace of the track.

But it wasn’t hectic. Not in the afternoon when the horses napped in their stalls and the only sounds were the women and children laughing by the trees.

And then realization dawned. She pressed the toy pony against her chest, trying to ease the stabbing pain. “Is that why we stayed away so long? So the children would be gone when we returned?”

“I’m just watching Tizzy,” Rick said, not turning around. “He’s following Miguel like a dog. The horse has really locked onto him.”

But he didn’t answer her question. Didn’t even try to deny it. And if he couldn’t bear to be within fifty feet of laughing kids, how could he possibly share the RV with Joey? Or a relationship with her?

She sank down at the table, her legs weak.

“I looked for Marcus this morning,” Rick added, still staring out the window. “Couldn’t find him anywhere on the backside. But a couple of the boys promised to call when he shows up.”

She gripped the pony tighter. The caps tournament had cemented Rick’s position with the backstretch workers. When she’d been galloping that morning, everyone had been slapping his hand, congratulating him on the win.

And now he had locals willing to call when Marcus surfaced. Rick was the perfect groom, the perfect bodyguard, the perfect boyfriend…except that he avoided kids like the plague.

She squeezed her eyes shut, then slowly opened them, grappling with the enormity of the problem. “Would it help to talk about it?” she asked.

“I don’t think Marcus left that tequila,” Rick said. “Last night he was at the tournament until just before midnight. And I couldn’t find any connection between him and Victoria. He seemed quite smitten with one of your ladies…what’s her name? Camila?”

She swallowed. Rick was deliberately misunderstanding her question. And while there was nothing worse than someone digging into private affairs, clearly he didn’t trust her enough to confide. Her fingers closed around the pony so tightly that it neighed.

Rick turned at the sound. “Joey’s going to like that toy.”

She nodded. But she saw his forced smile, and her hopes crashed in a pile of discarded dreams.

“He’s always wanted a pony,” she said, her voice shaky. “When he was little I was able to take him to the track. But he’s not allowed now. Victoria only lets owners’ kids visit.”

She ran a finger over the pony’s soft mane. “That’s why I wanted to help the mothers here. Because I know how hard it is. But some things are impossible to change, aren’t they?”

She lifted her head, her voice breaking. “Like how you feel about k-kids.”

He just stared and for a moment she thought he’d attempt to shrug it off. Then his face changed. He cursed and reached out, pulling her to him with arms so tight they hurt. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I want to try. I really do. I just keep seeing Ben.”

Her face was pressed against his shirt, and the thudding of his heart was louder than his voice. “Was Ben your son?”

She felt his head shake but he didn’t say anything else. Outside a crow cawed, and she heard Miguel singing a Spanish love song to Tizzy. But Rick remained silent.

Slowly though, his arms turned less taut, and she was able to look up and wrap her arms around his neck.

“Maybe it would help,” she whispered, “if you talk about it.”

“I’m not allowed to.” He pressed his face against her hair, and she could feel the raggedness of his breath. “Only to police-approved psychologists. The case is confidential. But please know I would never hurt Joey. Or any of the children here—”

She jerked back, aghast. “I would never think that. You are the most gentle, caring person ever. Anyone can see that. Why would you think you have to say that?” Her voice turned fierce. “Those idiots!”

His mouth lifted in a glimmer of a smile. “Easy, tiger,” he said. Then his head dipped, his lips seeking hers, gentle at first then turning more desperate. As if he were looking for something he couldn’t quite find.

He finally lifted his head. “You make me feel whole again,” he said. “Give me a chance. With you, with Joey. I used to be good with kids.”

He picked up the pony and squeezed its stomach, his eyes on her face. “Just give me some time, okay?”

But the pony’s happy neigh was swallowed by the roar of a vehicle. It jerked to a stop only feet from the RV. Amber roof lights flashed and dust left a spiraling cloud that blotted the window.

Rick set the toy down, brushed her mouth with a swift kiss, then opened the door. She followed, watching as Liam and Ashley spilled from the Jeep.

Their faces were too grave to be carrying anything but bad news. Even Tizzy stopped grazing, staring at the vehicle with concern.

“It’s Camila,” Ashley said, her eyes huge in her white face. She ran toward Eve, her voice choking. “She’s d-dead.”

Liam adjusted his gunbelt, his face as distraught as Ashley’s. “I should have said something last night, when I saw Camila with that creep. But the workers resent us. They never listen.”

Eve’s legs felt boneless and she grabbed the door for support. But Rick’s arm wrapped around her, his solid presence a comfort. “What happened?” he asked.

Liam shook his head as if bewildered. “This is the first murder we’ve had at the track. But it’s not really the track. She was found in the river, off the property. So I guess it’s not our jurisdiction. I mean, how could we be expected to patrol there?”

Rick’s arm tightened and Eve sensed his regard for Liam wasn’t very high.

“It’s a clay flat,” Liam went on. “And way too muddy for our vehicles. But I’ve been gathering information.” He fumbled for his notepad, a small coiled book with a picture of a scenic ocean. It didn’t look like there was anything on the pages.

“I just have to ask a few questions,” he added. “Collecting facts for the police. Piecing together her last week. So,” he looked at Eve, his voice turning officious. “When did you last see her?”

“At the tournament,” she said.

“And who was she with?”

Eve swallowed, trying to moisten her throat. “Marcus,” she said. “But you know that. You saw them too.”

“She didn’t show up for work at her barn this morning,” Liam said. “Weren’t you worried when she didn’t arrive this afternoon? She’s been hanging out here lately. Isn’t that correct?”

Eve rubbed her cold arms. She couldn’t stop wondering how Camila had died. Had she been drinking too much? Maybe stumbled in the mud and drowned?

“She regularly hangs out here,” Liam went on, his tone almost accusing. “With the other women and children. Did she say anything? Did you talk to her about her plans? Her life?”

“She didn’t talk much, not really. I—”

“I’ll take it from here,” Rick said, stepping in front of Eve. “We can talk in your Jeep, Liam.”

His voice was so crisp that Liam quit talking. He looked up from his notebook, flushed a beet red, then turned toward his vehicle. 

“You and Ashley stay here,” Rick said. He gave Eve’s arm a squeeze then followed Liam to the Jeep.

Eve looked at Ashley. They hadn’t really talked since Eve’s impulsive accusations about aiding Victoria, but now that faded into the background. They both hugged, gripping each other for support as they stumbled into the RV.

Eve added water to the coffee machine, her fingers clumsy.

“Someone found her by the river,” Ashley said. “Liam said it looked like she’d been beaten. And no one has seen Marcus since last night.”

Eve twisted and stared out the window, numb with horror. Rick and Liam were sitting in the Jeep. Liam had put away his notebook and was nodding his head at something Rick said. A moment later, they wheeled away in the Jeep.

“Sit down.” Ashley tugged Eve over to the table. “I’ll make the coffee. They’ll find Marcus soon.”

Eve dropped her head into her hands. A murder, not an accident. That was even worse. She didn’t want to think about Camila’s last moments. What the girl had endured. And she couldn’t stop picturing that bleak, brackish river and its creepy inhabitants.

She’d checked the river when she first arrived, wondering if it was safe for a horse to cross. But mud had sucked at her boots, the squelching sound startling a crab. It scrabbled sideways, leaving a trail in the red clay before disappearing down a hole. It wasn’t really a river, just a dying creek filled with crabs and catfish and leeches.

She shivered, trying to block the images of hungry bottom feeders. “How long was she there?” she whispered. “Have they removed her body?”

“Don’t know.” Ashley banged open a cupboard and gathered two mugs. “The police taped it off. Even Liam isn’t allowed back. But they’ll catch Marcus soon. Everyone’s looking.”

Eve dropped her head in her hands. Camila had just started to open up. She’d nodded and smiled and seemed excited about the hair business. And last night, she’d been the one to apply Eve’s lipstick, carefully selecting a pink shade of lip liner and making a shy joke about Rick and macho men.

She was still reserved but her eyes had been bright, devoid of that haunted look. And Eve couldn’t even remember if she’d properly thanked her. What their last words had been.

“She was just starting to look happy,” Eve said, her hands slumping to the table.

“I imagine she missed her boyfriend.” Ashley set down mugs and filled them with coffee. “Last night I heard her and Marcus talking about him.”

“What did they say?”

Ashley took a thoughtful sip. “They were speaking in Spanish, so I only understood a few words. But it sounded like she wanted to find him. And that Marcus didn’t think it was a good idea. I gathered he was jealous.”

Eve sighed and picked up her coffee, cradling the cup in her hands, needing its warmth more than the caffeine. This was a horrible tragedy but there was nothing she could have done. It wasn’t related to her barn, or Victoria.

Her phone pinged, announcing an incoming text. She set down her mug and scanned the screen. Her relief vanished as quickly as it had come.

Rick’s warning was brief but chilling:
Stay together until I get back. Don’t let anyone walk alone.

Eve swept the last piece of straw from the tack room then replaced the broom beside the pitchforks. Leather gleamed, everything in the barn was spotless—even more than normal. But she had to keep busy, had to stop herself from calling Victoria. The police would handle this. Besides, she told herself, there was no way her boss’s wife was involved with a murder. No way.

She glanced through the doorway. The sun was lowering, staining the horizon with red. Last night, at this time, Camila had still been alive. Everyone had been smiling and preparing to walk over to the caps tournament. The trophy sat on a chair in the tack room. It all seemed so silly now. And what if they hadn’t gone? What if they’d stayed and made more hair posters?

She turned away, her throat impossibly thick.

It was puzzling why Rick wanted them to stay together, but she appreciated the company. Miguel was polishing Tizzy’s neck with a soft cloth, not seeming to mind the enforced curfew. Assigning Miguel solely to Tizzy created more work, especially since Rick was off with Liam. But Ashley hadn’t once complained. And Eve was relieved to keep busy. The routine barn chores didn’t stop her ‘what ifs’ but they helped.

“Anyone hungry?” she asked. Rick didn’t want any of them walking alone, but her staff needed food. Miguel suffered from a hangover, and good nutrition was especially important for Ashley and her unborn baby.

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge,” she added. “Or I can make sandwiches or an omelet. Maybe even order something.”

This wasn’t the time to worry about limited cash. And what wasn’t spent on essentials, she’d donate toward Camila’s funeral costs.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Ashley said, glancing up from where she was scrubbing buckets. “I’m going to the guardhouse later. They always have extra food.”

Eve’s chest banded with guilt. Only a week ago, she’d truly believed working with horses was the absolute best job in the world. But running a stable while at odds with the boss’s wife was increasingly tricky, creating hardship, not just for her but her staff. It hurt that Ashley relied on the guards to eat. And that Miguel had been plied with liquor. And now Rick warned they shouldn’t walk alone.