Backstretch Baby (31 page)

“This is Stinger’s first start over a mile,” Eve said. “He’s always been a sprinter, mainly because he’s headstrong and refuses to rate. But I’ve been working with him. And his dam won at a mile and an eighth.”

Dana pulled a rumpled condition book from her back pocket. “Not much speed in your race,” she said, scanning the page. “He could get an easy lead. Think I’ll bet him.”

“You might be the only one,” Eve said. “Nobody thinks he can run past a mile, even my boss.”

“Then why did you pick that distance?”

“Orders from above,” Eve said, reluctant to admit Jackson’s wife was calling the shots now. “But I’ve had four weeks to stretch him out.”

Dana nodded. “I’ve seen your gallops. You’ve made sure he has enough air. If the pace is right, he’ll win.”

Eve stroked Stinger’s neck. If he won, it would have to be considered an excellent weekend. Two wins from two starts. A hundred percent success rate. And since horses ran best when they were healthy and happy, it would be clear that Ashley and Miguel had also done their jobs. There was no way Jackson could justify firing staff with that kind of result, in spite of Victoria’s prodding.

Dana knew all the horses at the track. She galloped some, ponied many, and also escorted on race days. Her analysis was more insightful than the track handicapper’s. And she wasn’t trying to be nice. She had no idea of the importance of Stinger’s race.

Eve flipped her reins to the other side of Stinger’s neck, wishing she could feel as confident. Hopefully he was ready. But he’d missed a critical day of training, and maybe there were a few mornings she should have worked him faster. Trainers relied on a mixture of experience, instinct and horse sense. But her experience was limited.

When she was a jockey, she’d climbed on and followed the trainer’s directions. And morning gallops were also carried out in strict accordance with instructions. Of course, she gave feedback to Jackson. But this was the first time she had sole control over a horse’s conditioning.

She’d tried to ask for advice but lately her boss had been unavailable. So it was hard to tell if Stinger was properly prepared. No one would know until the draining stretch run. That’s why horse racing remained such a mystery.

However, she loved the challenge, even if it sometimes felt like balancing over a precipice. And Stinger felt ready. His ears were pricked, his walk bouncy and full of attitude. So maybe he could run beyond a mile, and bettors would be wise to pick him.

Time would tell.

She smiled at Dana, pumped now with the familiar anticipation of a competitive race. “I sure hope you cash that bet.”

“Don’t move,” Juanita said, her scissors clicking perilously close to Rick’s ear. “We need to fix you. Women prefer their men less hairy.”

Maybe some women, Rick thought, his gaze on Eve who was standing by the barn, talking to the vet. But she’d never asked him to shave, or cut his hair or wear different clothes. Had barely flinched at his history. She saw beneath people, the same way she did with the horses. And despite the setbacks, her training skills were obvious.

Word around the track was that Stinger was a one-dimensional sprinter, and Victoria expected him to run dead last. Wanted to embarrass Eve.

But Rick had watched her gallops. Stinger had some stamina. More importantly, Eve had taught him patience. She was always riding him close to other horses, both behind and alongside, teaching him that it wasn’t always necessary to be in front. And that he needed to wait for the rider’s signal.

“You are a fine-looking man,” Juanita went on, talking over the rapid click of her scissors. “But you’ve been hiding for a long time.
Si?”

He made a non-committal sound. Her hands felt good against his scalp, and it was surprisingly pleasant sitting beneath the oak tree, watching his hair fall to the ground.

Maybe he had been hiding. A rough appearance kept people away. It was an effective way to avoid both relationships and questions. Although it hadn’t been much of a barrier here. People at the track were different. Like Eve, they didn’t put much stock in appearances.

But the little girl with the hot dog had definitely been intimidated. And the last thing he wanted was to scare Joey. It would be tough enough being around the kid. No need for them both to be terrified.

“Stop wiggling.” Juanita pressed his head against her soft stomach. “I need you to look good. For the photo.”

“Right,” he said, trying to slow his suddenly hammering heart. Joey wasn’t arriving for a few more hours. There was no need for panic. And Eve had thoughtfully set him up for a private conversation with Juanita. He needed to use this time wisely.

He pulled in a slow breath, then another.
Focus.

“I saw a hair poster on Woody’s bulletin board,” he said, after a moment. “What’s the name of your business?”

“Camila’s Corner,” Juanita said. She slapped some shaving cream on his jaw, then pulled a gleaming straight edge from her bucket. “We changed the name last night.”

She went on to explain how the women had unanimously voted for the new name, even though it meant they had to change all the posters. He tilted his head further back, patiently waiting for a chance to move this conversation along.

Eve had surprised him with the news about Camila’s pregnancy. Apparently the girl had wanted to keep it concealed. She’d done an effective job too, especially since the police and security guards had never mentioned it.

“Camila’s Corner is a nice name,” he said, once Juanita paused to take a breath. “I’m sure her family will be appreciative...”

“She doesn’t have family, just a fifteen-year-old sister.” Juanita dragged the straight edge over the side of his jaw, then bent and rinsed it in the second bucket. “Camila was helping her stay in school. Sending money when she could.”

“Generous of her,” Rick murmured. He crossed than uncrossed his legs, slightly uncomfortable. There’d be no more pay checks coming from Camila. And Eve was correct. It would be a long wait before the money found in her room was released. If the police determined it was from illegal proceeds, Camila’s little sister would never see it.

“But that can still happen.” Juanita’s smile broadened. “Did Eve tell you what I found? All the money?”

He blinked, surprised Juanita was trusting him with the information. Of course, only Eve’s barn and the security guards knew he was an investigator. “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “She mentioned something.”

“Over five thousand dollars,” Juanita said. “So the girl will be able to finish her education after all.” She waved an excited hand, filling the air with flecks of white soap. “That was Camila’s last gift. A big one too. On Monday, Eve and I go to the bank.”

Rick closed his eyes. Didn’t want to look up at Juanita’s relieved face. Eve had looked the same way. Heck, if Scott’s business weren’t involved, he’d probably whisk the money off to Guatemala too. But there could be other factors at play here.

“I heard Camila was pregnant,” he said, filling his voice with nothing but idle curiosity. “Must be hard, giving up a baby.”

Juanita’s voice turned regretful. “A lot of girls do that. Until Eve arrived, there wasn’t much hope. But Eve is so brave, so strong. She believes in us. And that makes us strong as well. Camila was just starting to understand that she had choices.”

Rick opened his eyes and checked on Eve. She’d finished dealing with the vet and was now talking to the farrier. If she were paid by the hour, she’d be a millionaire. A trainer’s job was never ending, the horses a constant source of worry. Yet she’d still found time to carve out an oasis for the mothers and children, sharing her knowledge and generous spirit. Now the women here were a more cohesive group.

Camila, though, had chosen to remain on the fringe. Some workers labeled her shy, others reserved. But she didn’t seem to have any close friends, certainly none willing to talk to the authorities.

“There must be someone who was close to Camila,” he said. “Someone who could help them figure out what really happened.”

Juanita’s hand stilled. “The police and security guards think Marcus killed her.”

“Maybe,” Rick said. “Maybe not. But they need to talk to him… wherever he is. And to her old boyfriend who returned to Mexico.”

Juanita hissed with disgust. “That boyfriend knows nothing. He runs away. Doesn’t even say good-bye. Too many men are scared of one little child.”

Rick almost flinched. He didn’t like this line of talk. Besides, he shouldn’t be pursuing it anyway. Scott had ordered that he concentrate on Eve’s barn. There was certainly no link between Victoria and Camila.

On the other hand, a young woman had been brutally murdered. And while the police were doing everything possible, the Hispanic community was too closed, too distrustful of authority. He was better positioned to dig out the truth.

He flattened his palms against his jeans and blew out a resigned sigh. The track community had become important to him and so, despite Scott’s directions, he knew he couldn’t let this go. The last time he’d followed orders that conflicted with his instincts, consequences had been tragic. And there was a randomness about Camila’s death that left him uneasy.

Juanita wrapped her hand around his jaw. “Hold still,” she said, before continuing with her complaints about Camila’s boyfriend and how cowards always run.

He waited for her to take a breath, then forced a teasing smile, as if her words weren’t eating at his self-esteem.

“Men run away?” he said. “All men? Or just from this track?”

“That is what they do here.” Juanita scowled. “Now don’t move.” She laid the flat edge against the top of his lip, and it was clear she really meant ‘don’t talk.’

He waited until the blade was safely returned to the bucket and she was rinsing his jaw. “Do you know other women whose boyfriends left?”

Juanita nodded. “When things get tough, they run and hide. Afraid of the system. Sometimes people hide even when they’re innocent… But that’s only because they’re scared.”

Rick studied her face, those dark eyes that seemed so knowing. “A natural thing, to hide.” He waited a beat, letting her feel his sincerity. “But the information they have can be important,” he added. “Camila didn’t own a phone so police can’t trace her calls. But if someone found a name or number, perhaps when they were cleaning her room? Or if someone knew where Marcus was hiding, he could help answer these questions. Just in case the investigation is heading in the wrong direction…”

He watched Juanita’s face. She’d come directly from her job in the kitchen, the hub of conversation, and the smell of bacon and coffee mingled pleasantly with the shaving cream.

“I could give you my private number,” he went on. “Maybe Marcus could call. Let me know what really happened by that river. Just me. No police.”

Juanita glanced over her shoulder. A horse nickered from the barn but otherwise the only sound was her ragged breathing. Then she sighed, her big bosom heaving.

“Eve trusts you,” she said slowly. “And I trust Eve.”

He kept his hands motionless on his lap, careful not to push.

“So I will pass on your message,” she said. “But first you need to believe Marcus didn’t do this terrible thing. Nobody knows who would beat a woman like that.”

She wiped the straight edge, carefully wrapped it in a towel and placed it in her bucket. Then she turned back to him, her eyes blazing with a sudden ferocity. “But we want to know. We are family here. So we hope there is some punishment. Before the police are called. Only then might Marcus be found. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said, “I do.”

Eve checked Stinger’s stall for the fourth time. His hay and water had been removed in preparation for the approaching race. A few hoof prints marked the new rubber on the wall, but otherwise he appeared to have stopped kicking. He flattened his ears now, looking sleek, shiny and ill-tempered.

Rick’s familiar chuckle came from behind her. That man could move like a ghost.

“He doesn’t have as much fun kicking a padded wall,” Rick said. “Think he liked the noise. It made him feel tough.”

“Let’s hope he’s tough enough to go the distance.” She picked up a rake, saw the aisle was immaculate and set it back down. “Guess I’m a little nervous.”

She glanced back at Rick, paused, then did a double take. He’d been with Juanita for less than an hour but the change was dramatic. His hair was businessman short now, and his face was clean shaven, further emphasizing his killer cheekbones and chiseled jaw. He was numbingly, strikingly handsome, and it was impossible not to gawk.

He gave a wry smile and rubbed a hand over his face. “I know you don’t like conventional. And it feels weird. But I can grow it back. For now though, this is better.”

She reached up, touching his smooth jaw where the skin was lighter than the rest of his face. Clearly it hadn’t been exposed for a while. Just as clearly, he was too damn gorgeous.

“This is just so disappointing,” she said slowly.

“Because I look like a cop?” Concern flickered in those grayish-blue eyes.

“No. Because you’re much better looking than any of my horses. It will reflect badly on the stable.” She struggled to keep a straight face. “It makes everything else look second rate. I expect Victoria will fire us all.”

He stood very still as if aware she was teasing, but not quite sure why. She rose on her toes and planted a smiling kiss on his cheek, amazed he didn’t realize how gorgeous he was. Better still, that he didn’t seem to care.

His shoulders softened. “I’m glad you can laugh about that woman now,” he said, wrapping her in his arms.

He smelled of leather and shaving cream, and she didn’t want to move, even though it wasn’t very professional for a trainer to be cuddling in the barn aisle.

“Did Juanita take a picture?” she asked, unable to resist reaching up and touching his jaw again.

“Several,” he said. “She also confided a few things.”