Purebred (8 page)

* * *

H
OW 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 the
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.

He would do whatever it took to
protect himself.

Protecting himself—and the
money—that was all that mattered.

Chapter Nine

Their appointment at McHenry Racecourse to tour the facility and to get their stall assignment for Mac was coming up fast, so after the other men left, Aidan had just enough time to shower. He threw on fresh clothes and pulled his fingers through his hair, then went upstairs.

Cat was waiting for him in the kitchen. She’d been so stoic with Pierce and her ex-husband, but he now caught her in a weak moment. Her reddened eyes and nose were proof that she’d been crying. He wanted in the worst way to take her in his arms, reassure her that everything would be all right.

Not that it would.

Dead was dead, as he well knew. He still carried sorrow after the better part of a year. The grief had faded, true, and he didn’t think of Pegeen as often as he had in those first crippling months, but considering the way she’d died, he wouldn’t ever be able to forget.

And from the way Cat drew herself up and put her expression in neutral, he didn’t think she was going to share her grief with him.

“I can go to the track alone,” he said. “’Tis been a terrible day and you could use some rest.”

“I want to go.”

“No need, Cat. Simply give me directions and allow me to drive your vehicle.”

“Going to the track will give me something…something else to think about.”

“You’re certain?”

She stood tall, her chin lifted. “I need this, Aidan.”

Even as he noted her lower lip quiver, he said, “Aye. Let us go, then.” Perhaps she was correct and did need to get away from the farm, if only for a bit.

They set off for the track with Cat driving her SUV. Aidan’s good mood after Mac’s first workout had been ruined by their find in the woods. Now he was worrying about the lass because she drove in silence. It wasn’t simply the shock of finding the man dead that had gotten to her, he knew. There was more to it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not right now.”

Her voice sounded a bit choked as if she was preventing herself from crying again.

Aidan couldn’t help himself. “I don’t mean the way we found the man, but about how you felt for him.”

Cat’s hands tightened on the steering wheel so that her knuckles went white.

He was trying to think of a safer topic, when she said, “George was like part of my family. Like an uncle, I think I told you. I don’t ever remember him not being there. He taught me to tack my pony when I was little and my parents were too busy. I used to follow him around the barn when I was a kid, asking him a million qu-questions.” Her voice broke and she went silent for a moment before continuing. “He never got annoyed with me, always treated me like I was an adult. He even warned me about Jack.”

“He didn’t like your ex-husband, then?”

“George saw Jack for what he was—an opportunist and a clever liar.”

“He lied to you?”

“To get me to do what he wanted when he wanted—yes. Apparently more than I ever knew. I hated that I let him manipulate me like that. George never let on except in private, though. I didn’t want to believe it, of course. I thought we were in love, and I needed someone to support me. I don’t think Jack ever realized how George felt about him.”

“Or maybe he did,” Aidan mused. Could he have blamed the barn manager for opening Cat’s eyes to him?

“Jack is a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer. At least I hope not. If so, then George’s death
was
my fault. Bad enough that he turned out to be such a bastard.”

Aidan hoped she was correct about her ex-husband, because if she wasn’t, she could be in danger, as well. Suddenly realizing that he felt something for Cat, more than he’d previously wanted to face, Aidan sat stunned. That Cat was hurting made him want to make it all better. Not that he could. A man was dead. Murdered. Nothing was going to make her feel better about that.

Nothing was going to make him feel better that he couldn’t help her.

How had that happened? He’d never denied Cat was attractive, but her sudden testiness at that first meeting had put him off. There were the dreams, of course, but there was also Pegeen’s ghost sitting on his shoulder, reminding him of what he’d lost and why.

The unexpected hot kiss the night before had done it, had turned him around. Though he’d been the one to break it off, Aidan hadn’t been able to forget it.

Despite the dream that had warned him, having sex in the woods had still been unexpected and exciting, and now, sitting beside her in her SUV, he had to play mind games with himself so he didn’t obsess over it.

While Cat was understandably upset about her barn manager’s death, she didn’t seem to have any residual tension about what had happened between them.

Not like he did.

Thinking they could both use a break from the horror of finding the dead man, he asked, “Are you familiar with the backstretch at McHenry?”

“I’ve never raced a colt or filly of my own, but I’ve been back there with a couple of clients, usually when they were thinking of retiring a mare to breed her.”

“But ’tis decent?”

“Well…the shedrows are well taken care of,” she said, a hesitant note in her voice. “The living quarters are the usual dormitories now, but management has plans for new construction, including apartments with kitchenettes.”

“So the backstretch workers can bring their families to live with them. As it should be.”

He was glad to hear it. Tracks normally had only single rooms shared by two or more workers with public toilets on each floor. Like living in a school dormitory, only the workers had to supply their own bedding, which often was nothing more than a cot or a sleeping bag. Most workers were transient, going from track to track with the trainers, but still, that was no reason not to give them a decent place to live.

Aidan knew McHenry had upgraded its racing schedule in the past few years, as well, adding several graded races, the first of which was the stakes race coming up in less than two weeks now. He was counting on Mac to win and take the first step in his and Cashel’s plan for the colt. And Cat’s, he amended. He couldn’t forget the woman who’d made this possible.

Glancing her way, flashing on the heat they’d shared, he thought Cat Clarke would be impossible to forget under any circumstance.

“The only thing I’m worried about is getting the right jockey,” Aidan said.

“Time’s a little tight, but we can fly someone in if we have to.”

“I would rather meet the man in person before making a decision.”

Aidan trusted his gut instinct—and that of whatever horse he was training—more than simple statistics. He liked to put jockey and horse together and to get a read off the match before hiring anyone. His method had served him well. More than once in his career, he’d sensed an uneasiness in the colt or filly when introducing them to a potential jockey and had gone on to interview another candidate. The result—success.

They reached the racecourse situated right off the interstate. Cat drove past the grandstand to the back side of the track where the horses were stabled, trained and maintained. A guardhouse monitored the fenced backstretch. They had to show identification to get in. The area housed a practice track and dozens of buildings—Aidan noted shedrows, dormitories, blacksmith, cafeteria, a coin-operated Laundromat, and even a medical clinic to treat illnesses as well as the injuries that were common to those working with horses. Aidan would have to familiarize himself with a whole host of support staff, since backstretch workers included exercise riders, grooms, farriers and muckers, among others.

They parked outside the office and headed straight in. The manager made sure their paperwork was in order. When Cat pulled out her cell phone to make a call, her hand shook a little. Aidan worried about her as she took care of his trainer’s license. Somehow, she kept herself pulled together.

Then they were introduced to a young exercise rider who wanted to work with him. Short and slender but muscular, Nadim could be a jockey. Perhaps that was his goal, Aidan thought. Many jockeys started in the business as exercise riders. Nadim was probably only eighteen or nineteen.

“I’ll give you the whole tour,” the lad said. “Take you around the grounds and introduce you to some of the people. You already have your stall assignment, so we’ll start there.”

They headed from the office straight for it, Nadim keeping up the chatter as they walked.

“We have fifteen barns, more than a thousand horses stabled here. Workouts on the main track are the standard 6:00 a.m. until 10:00 a.m. After that, you have to move onto the practice track.”

“What about guests or bringing my own workers in?” Cat asked.

Aidan realized she really didn’t know about the workings of the backstretch.

“Workers have to be licensed first,” Nadim said. “No guests unless they’re cleared and you get a badge ahead of time.”

And on he went.

Sneaking looks at Cat, he noted she alternated between strong and emotional, though she did her best to hide the latter. They soon arrived at the shedrow that would house Mac.

Aidan was pleased to see that it was closest to the grandstand, an area away from the hustle and bustle of the track’s backside and therefore as quiet as it was possible to get. Two rows of two dozen stalls faced each other, a twelve-foot-wide covered walkway in between. Though a worker watered a basket of flowers hanging from a hook at the end of the building, oddly, the stalls on one side were empty of horses. Inside the stall assigned to them, another worker was taking apart a ceiling light.

“The stall will be available tomorrow,” Nadim said. “We’re just doing some maintenance checks. There was a problem with the electrical in this shedrow. We want to check all the fixtures and circuits before reopening the stalls to horses.”

“Good,” Cat said, her voice a bit flat. “I’m glad someone is on top of that.”

The biggest fear in any barn being fire, Aidan knew.

Cat seemed distracted, as if she couldn’t quite concentrate. Despite the trauma of finding her late barn manager, she was holding up better than Aidan had expected. He wanted to get this over as quickly as possible and get her home where she could grieve in private.

“I assume this is satisfactory, Mr. McKenna?”

Aidan started. “Aye, it’ll do quite nicely. Now as to hiring you as an exercise rider…well, that would be up to Mac.”

“You let the colt decide?”

“As to who gets up on his back? Aye. His call. I shall let you know after he has a chance to meet you tomorrow.”

“Uh, okay.” Nadim was trying not to look confounded. “How, um, do you know if he likes someone or not?”

“Because I can read his mind, of course.”

A cell phone rang and Nadim excused himself, stepping away from the structure. “I’ll be just a moment.”

Aidan realized Cat was searching through her shoulder bag, her expression one of frustration.

“Only a while longer,” he assured her. “Then we can be out of here.”

“Not until I find my own cell phone.” Her eyes pooled once more, as if she were ready to weep over the possible loss. “I checked for messages while you were taking care of your license. It’s not in my purse.”

“Maybe ’tis in the office, where you were using it.”

Blinking and taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m going to have to go back and check.”

“I shall accompany you.”

“No, really. I need a little time alone anyway.”

Apparently she did. Aidan was certain if he tried to put his arms around her right now, she would pull away from him. “All right. Where shall we meet?”

“Do whatever you need to do. I’ll find you. If I have my cell, I can just call.”

Nadim rejoined them. “The cafeteria?” he suggested, deferring to Aidan.

“Grand.”

Cat said, “I’ll meet you there, then.” Avoiding his eyes, she rushed away.

Aidan couldn’t take his gaze off her. She suddenly looked ready to crumble and he thought about going after her. Perhaps her being alone wasn’t such a good idea, after all. She needed someone to lean on, and he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more at the moment than to be her support.

And then Nadim brought him back to the reason he was there. “The cafeteria is in the middle of the backstretch.”

Cat had already disappeared, so he decided to give her some time alone as she’d asked. He followed Nadim, only half-hearing the exercise rider giving him information on where to find what. He couldn’t channel his worry for Cat.

Not until a weird sensation crept through him. He looked around to see a slightly built young man wearing sunglasses and a billed cap staring after him. Another exercise rider? There was something familiar about the lad, Aidan thought. As if he should know him. But he didn’t know anyone here in America. Could this be someone he’d met at a track in Ireland or in England? Were other foreign horses stabled here?

“Are you acquainted with that man?” he asked Nadim, indicating the exercise rider should look back.

Nadim glanced over his shoulder. “Who?”

Aidan looked again.

The man was gone.