Death by Equine Annette Dashofy (black authors fiction txt) 📖

He gave a short laugh. “I know what you mean. This quarantine business is eating me alive. I don’t think I’ve had more than eight hours sleep total since it all started. And I know you’re doing everything you can.”

His hand settled on the small of her back, and she willed her muscles to relax under his touch. She thought back to their dinner at Lorenzo’s. Even knowing about his criminal record, that he had killed in the past and might be responsible for Doc’s death, a big part of her felt drawn to him.

“You know what I think?” Daniel’s mouth was close enough to her ear that she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. “I think, when this is all over and settled, you and I should take a vacation. Where would you like to go?”

She closed her eyes against reality and let her imagination take flight. Thanks to her vagabond parents, she’d seen more than her share of the country, but few of the places tourists would frequent. A pristine beach perhaps, with the color of the sky reflected in the water, the sun warm on her bare shoulders. And Daniel at her side.

A horse snorted nearby bringing her back to Riverview Park. She opened her eyes to see the kid with the acne watching them from the stall, clearly afraid of interrupting a private moment. She held up one finger to him.

“That sounds great, but I have to keep moving or we’ll never get done.”

Daniel stepped back, slipping his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “I’ll get out of your way. But think about it, okay?”

She met his gaze. God, she wished she didn’t know anything about Daniel Brice or that damned bottle of acepromazine. “I already am.” She didn’t add that thinking was as far as it could go.

He turned away. “Keep me posted,” he called over his shoulder.

A vacation with Daniel after this was all settled. Jessie sighed, knowing all too well that by the time this was settled, she’d be the last person Daniel would want to spend time with.

BY MIDAFTERNOON, JESSIE and Dr. McCarrell had to leave to make their Lasix rounds. Jessie caught up to Meryl, Dr. Baker, and Sherry after the races and found them still at work. It was well past midnight before they completed the task of drawing blood from every horse stabled at Riverview.

Dr. Baker wasted no time getting back on the road, turning down an offer to grab something to eat. Meryl drove out behind her, and Sherry grunted goodnight before shoving her hands in her pockets and ambling off in the direction of the rec hall.

At the clinic, Jessie discovered several large boxes sitting next to the locked door. She hauled them inside and spent a large portion of the remainder of the night unpacking and setting up her new laptops. The last box contained the futon, some assembly required. After dragging the old sofa out of the office, she slit open the box with her pocketknife, dumped the contents on the exam area floor, and lugged the seat portion of the dismantled futon into the office. She collapsed onto it fully clothed and fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke, groggy and disoriented, to the ringing of her cell phone. Molly had made a nest between her legs and the tabby had draped himself over her belly. She disengaged from her bedmates and grabbed the phone from the desk.

“Jessie, it’s me. Catherine.” The voice at the other end was irritatingly perky. “Have you had a chance to look at Blue’s x-rays?”

Rubbing her eyes with her free hand, Jessie struggled to focus. X-rays? What day was this? She squinted at the clock above the futon seat. Nine fifteen? Crap. She was running a mere two hours late and she felt like she had a mouthful of surgical sponges. “Sorry, Catherine. I put in a late night.” Sometime during her short slumber, she’d managed to kick off her boots. She reached out to snag the first one, then the other. “Why don’t I call you back in an hour or so?”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there to see you around noon. Okay?”

The phone went dead before Jessie could reply. She ran her tongue over fuzzy teeth. “Noon,” she said to Molly. “Great.”

Rounds were light that morning, probably because Jessie was running late and anyone with emergencies would have already given up and called Dr. McCarrell.

By the time Catherine’s white sedan rolled to a stop outside the clinic doors precisely at twelve, Jessie had grabbed a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and changed into a fresh t-shirt and jeans. She’d figured out how to upload the radiographs onto the new computer but hadn’t had a chance to look at them.

Catherine sashayed into the office in white strappy sandals and a pale blue skirt and jacket. She thumped a purse big enough to hold a small pony onto the desk. “Well? What did you find out?”

“I haven’t had a chance to view these yet.” Jessie slid into her chair and pulled the file up on the laptop. She scrutinized each picture. She hadn’t liked the previews, and the full-sized versions didn’t look any better. She motioned for Catherine to come around to her side of the desk and placed one finger on the screen. “You see this?”

Catherine nodded, but from her pursed lips and creased brow, Jessie knew she didn’t.

“The fracture is on the articular surface, high on the coffin bone. The prognosis isn’t what we’d like, I’m afraid.”

Catherine deflated. “I don’t understand. I broke my ankle when I was a kid, and it healed up just fine.”

“The coffin bone doesn’t correspond to the ankle. It’s more like breaking your big toe if you were a ballerina. Besides, it’s porous, and when it mends, a fibrous union is produced instead of a bony one. That’s why the prognosis is so poor on these types of injuries.