"Just some paperwork."
He strolled around the office, his gaze drifting over the clutter that blanketed every flat surface.
I stuffed the last stack of envelopes into a cardboard box and set it on the floor by the door. Dorsett's patrol car was parked under the glare of the sodium vapors. A nice touch as far as security went. Maybe I'd get Dave to make some official-looking signs about guards or attack dogs.
Officer Dorsett said, "Doing a little sleuthing?"
I turned around and saw he'd been reading the stack of flyers. "Nosy, aren't you?"
"Comes with the job."
I picked up the flyers and wedged them in alongside the envelopes.
"I'm serious," he said. "Have you told Detective Ralston you're doing this?"
I straightened. "Why should I?
"He's talked to everyone who has Foxdale on their post," Dorsett said. "Apparently he's frustrated with the case he's working, and frankly, I think he's worried about you and-"
"What do you mean, he's worried about me?"
"Come on, be your age. Whoever's been doing this," he gestured to my letter, "is probably going to keep on doing it until they're caught."
"Shit."
"Damn straight. You should tell Ralston about it." He glanced at his watch. "How much longer you going to be here?"
"I'm done." I pulled on my denim jacket. "I just have to check the barns."
"I'll go with you."
I lugged the box of letters outside, dumped it on the sidewalk, and locked the doors.
When we walked into barn B, Dorsett said, "Damn, I've never seen so many horses before. And they're not your ordinary plow horse, either."
I chuckled, "No, they most certainly are not."
"How much are they worth?"
"It all depends." I jiggled the tack room lock. "Anywhere from a thousand to forty thousand. Often more."
"Shit."
"Damn straight."
His eyebrows rose. "You don't miss much do you?"
"Yeah, right."
After checking both barns, we walked down to the implement building. I flicked on the lights and rattled the doorknob to Dave's storage room, then I walked around to the back of the building. We still hadn't gotten around to fencing in the lane. It was wide open to anyone who might drive in off the back road. Officer Dorsett unhooked his flashlight and switched it on. There was nothing to see.
He followed me out like the last time and waited while I closed and locked the gates, except this time he didn't follow me halfway home.
Chapter 14
Despite Officer Dorsett's warning, I mailed the flyers Tuesday afternoon and didn't give them another thought. At quitting time, I poured myself a cup of coffee and went into the office. I fished a couple of aspirins out of the first aid kit and swallowed them. Through the Plexiglas, I watched the six o'clock warming up. Vicki Lewis was riding Jet, Foxdale's most recent addition to its string of school horses, and the mare was giving her a fit, shying in the corners and breaking into a canter at the slightest provocation. Mrs. Hill was huddled in her coat, talking to Karen. I blew across the coffee cup and wondered what I was going to eat for dinner.
Corey Claremont, one of Foxdale's boarders, walked into the office, said hello, then dropped an envelope on Mrs. Hill's desk. She turned to leave and paused. "Oh, Steve. You made me think of something. You know that notice you put up on the bulletin board? The one about the trailer."
I nodded.
"Well, there's a trailer like that off one of the trails." She told me how to find it. "Unless you know it's there, you can hardly see it, but I hacked out that way a lot this winter, so I know the area pretty good. Thought you might want to know."
I thanked her, and after she left, I dug Mrs. Hill's county map out of the supply cabinet and sat down at her desk. Corey was an experienced eventer, and when she went on a trail ride, she covered a lot of territory.
Though her directions were a bit complicated, after a few false starts, I pinpointed the section of park land she'd indicated. Two roads were close to the location, but without seeing it for myself, I wouldn't know which was the right one. I leaned back in the chair. Detective Ralston and I had covered that part of the county already, so why hadn't the trailer been on the MVA list?
I called Ralston's number and was told he was unavailable until Thursday. I went home and emptied a can of Campbell's Hearty Beef Stew into a pot. After it had heated through, I took it and a bag of pretzels out on the deck. I sat with my back to the wood siding and watched the colors fade from the day. Above my head, a full moon shone in a cloudless sky.
I'd never been much good at waiting. I dumped the dishes in the sink, slipped a flashlight into my jacket pocket, and headed back to Foxdale.
I caught Karen between lessons and told her I was taking Jet on a trail ride.
"She's never gone on the trail alone," Karen said, "and you're taking her out at night?"
"It's light enough with the moon."
"She doesn't even know the trails."
"She'll be fine," I said. "Besides, she needs the work."
"Only because half the students can't handle her," Karen snapped. She lowered the jump cup on the standard and repositioned the rail. "Which trail are you taking?"
"The one to the north."
"North?"
"To the left, Karen."
She put her hands on her hips.
"I'll follow the river for a while, then bring her back."
"You get her hurt, it's on your head." She looked across the arena when one of the ponies faked a shy in the corner and yelled, "Don't pull back on the reins! Inside leg! Use your inside leg and push him forward."
I left Karen to her class, tacked up Jet, and swung into the saddle. We headed down the corridor that runs between the rows of paddocks. When we reached the woods, I reined her to the left, and after a moment's hesitation, she followed the trail as it zig-zagged downhill toward the river. She strode out well, eager yet relaxed, and it was obvious she was enjoying herself.
Moonlight filtered through the woods, and after a while, my eyes adjusted to the light. Tall, thick-trunked oaks towered above us, their dark tangle of branches dramatic against the moon-washed sky. Where the trail dropped into a deep ravine, I leaned back in the saddle and let her choose where to put her feet. The cool air was curiously still in the shelter of the woods, her footfalls silent, the creaking leather and our breathing the only sounds.
When we came to the first stream crossing, I slipped the reins through my fingers. Jet half-slid, half-jumped down the slope, then scrambled up the opposite bank. She lowered her head and cantered down the trail with exuberance, all the while subtly trying to bounce me out of the saddle. Grinning at her enthusiasm, I brought her back to a walk.
The mare was still keyed up when we reached the place where the trail empties into a wide meadow down by the river. Jet wheeled around, and I almost came off. She bolted into the woods, and by the time I managed to get myself vertical and her stopped, she was standing in a grove of pine trees. Her body was rigid with tension. I could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and my own was doing a fair job at imitation.
A heavy pine branch arched across her neck, inches above her mane. If she took a step or two forward, I would be knocked off. There was no way around it, and I knew she wouldn't back up in that mess. I gathered the reins in my left hand, slipped my stirrups, and slid to the ground.
Even with the care I'd taken, she threw her head up. When she felt the branch brush against her mane, she ran backward. I ran along with her. Just as I reached the conclusion that I would have to drop the reins or be dragged across the ground, she came to her senses and stopped.