Wait forever.
I didn't have to wait for Michael. By the time I'd finished checking the buildings, he was ready to go. I dumped his gear in the bed of my truck and cleared a space on the front seat. He climbed in without comment, and I drove past the gates.
After I'd locked them and pulled onto Rocky Ford, Michael said, "They must be a nuisance."
"Yes, but a necessary one."
He looked at me for a moment, then changed the subject. "That woman, the one who brought my dinner. She's a trip."
I grinned. "She is that. I saw her follow you to the barn. How'd you get rid of her?" I asked because Michael had returned to the arena almost immediately.
Michael chuckled. "I told her I preferred men…"
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "And do you?"
He chuckled. "Shit, no. Don't have a coronary on me, now." He leaned back in his seat and yawned. "I've dealt with women like her before. It's a weird sort of groupie thing. As soon as you're even moderately well-known, they put the make on you. Young girls, too."
My eyebrows rose. "I had no idea."
"Oh, I don't know about that. She got to you, didn't she?"
I glanced at him, and the Chevy's back tire dropped off the edge of the road. I gripped the steering wheel hard and dragged the truck back onto the pavement.
"Why do you think that?" If he could see it, so could everyone else. So could Rachel.
"I saw your face when you first caught sight of her. You looked, well… like you do now."
I sighed. "I didn't realize it was so obvious."
"Oh, don't get me wrong. It was just a timing thing. After that initial look of pure terror, I wouldn't have suspected a thing. Let's put it this way. I knew something was up, just didn't know what." He chuckled. "I was hard pressed to keep a straight face when I saw what had you shittin' your pants."
I groaned.
"She's somethin' else, I'll say that." He shook his head and shifted on the seat. "Enough to make you come just lookin' at her."
She was that.
"I take it Rachel doesn't know?" he said.
"No."
"Hmm. How many times?"
"Once."
He shrugged. "Maybe you'll be okay."
"I don't know." I slowed as we approached a sharp curve. "Girls are funny about stuff like that."
"True. It wouldn't do any good to tell her, but… Well, I wouldn't trust that woman. She might tell Rachel herself, or do something to make it obvious. Hell, she might even make it out to be more than it was."
Like those thoughts hadn't been squirreling round my head ever since that night in the feed room. I couldn't walk in there without thinking about it, though most of the time, I'd go over the entire encounter in my head and get horny as hell. Other times I'd walk in there and feel claustrophobic.
"Why didn't you, eh… take advantage of the opportunity?" I said.
"I'm serious about someone right now, plus, you do that too much, you end with a reputation you-"
"You keep using your particular put-off, you'll have a different reputation to contend with."
"Come on, Steve. Don't you know that in this business, if you aren't a steer-ropin', tobacco-spittin', boot-stompin' cowboy, you've probably got that reputation already?"
I grinned. "Awh shit, man."
I pulled into the parking space behind the foaling barn and turned off the engine. Since all the mares had foaled, Greg's foaling man no longer worked nights. The barn was dark.
"You don't," Michael said, "live in a barn?"
"Uh-huh."
"Jesus. I gave up sleeping in the trailer for this?"
"'Fraid so."
He jerked up on the door handle with more force than necessary and hopped out. His expectations rose slightly as we climbed the steps to the loft. The view across the horse pastures, even at night, was awe-inspiring. The moon had just crested the tree line and looked huge. A swath of white glimmered on the lake.
I opened the door and turned on the lights.
Michael stepped through the doorway and paused. "Well, who'd've thought?" He dumped his duffel bag on the floor and took off his jacket. "Nice place. No privacy though. You ever gonna hang curtains?"
"One day."
"I feel like I'm in a goddamned fish bowl." He walked into the living room/bedroom. "You have something against furniture, too?"
"Hardly."
Michael snorted.
"When it comes down to spending money on something to sit on or something to eat, I'll choose eat every time. Speaking of which…" I rummaged through the cabinets and settled on Spicy Doritos and microwaveable popcorn. I plunked two cans of Coke and the bag of chips on the island counter and filled two glasses with ice.
"What's this about?" Michael said.
A stack of flyers I hadn't gotten around to giving Greg was lying on top of a pile of magazines. Michael held one in his hand.
I told him about James Peters and the thefts and about Pennsylvania, then I asked him if he'd heard of anything that sounded even remotely related.
He shook his head as he gathered up the sheets and tapped them down on the countertop until they were organized into a neat pile. "No wonder you were so pigheaded about me sleeping in the trailer?"
"Yeah, well, now you know." I looked down at the popcorn in my hand and was no longer hungry. I dumped it in the trash.
"This guy, Peters. They didn't have to kill him, did they?" Michael said. "Not unless he could identify them." He ran his fingers up and down the smooth, cold surface of his glass. The ice shifted and settled. "They've got to have some horse connections, too. Some outlet for getting rid of the horses they take, and the tack. But you didn't recognize them?"
"No, but they were wearing masks." I stood abruptly. "I'm going to take a shower."
He glanced up at me and frowned. "Can I use your weights? Sitting all day drives me nuts."
"Sure," I said. "Want some music on?"
"What kind?"
"Pick something out."
He checked what was in the CD player and said it would do. When he turned it on, the volume was cranked way up.
He fumbled with the knobs and turned it down. "You deaf?"
"What?"
He grinned and shook his head. "At this rate, you'll be deaf by the time you're fifty."
"Yeah, well, what if I die when I'm forty-nine, and I've gone through life keeping the volume down to save my hearing?"
"You're crazy."
"So I've been told."
When I got out of the shower, Michael was finishing up a set. His hair was damp, and sweat glistened on his skin. He settled the bar in the rack and sat up. "Were you expecting company?"
"No." I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was well after midnight. "Why?"
He shrugged. "I heard a noise and thought there was someone on the deck, but-"
"How long ago?" My voice sounded tight.
"Five minutes, maybe less."
I yanked on my sneakers, grabbed a flashlight, and pushed through the kitchen door with Michael on my heels. I took the stairs two at a time and switched on the barn lights. The metal bracket by the light switch was empty.
"Shit." I spun around and almost knocked into Michael.
"What's wrong?" he said.
"Fire extinguisher's gone."
I scanned the parking lot, then ran around the corner of the barn and shone the light along the fence line. No fire extinguisher. I ran part-way down the narrow lawn between the fence and barn and panned the light across the grass. The extinguisher was lying in the darker shadows along the barn's foundation. I tossed the flashlight to Michael, scooped up the extinguisher, and ran into the barn aisle.
I stopped abruptly. "Do you smell that?"
Michael nodded. His face was pale.
The horses were out for the night. All the stall doors were open, and nothing looked out of place.
I turned slowly toward the feed room door, then flattened my palm on the smooth wood. It was cool to the touch. I put my hand on the doorknob. The metal felt warm against my skin, and I wondered if it was my imagination.