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

this storm. I reckon you’re eager to turn this over to that ex-husband of yours.”

“And his trusty sidekick, Trooper Popovich, who still thinks I’m responsible for Sherry’s death. Looks like Emerick killed her to shut her up too.”

They headed toward the maintenance buildings. When they were almost to the gate, Milt reached over and tapped the envelope. “What’s this?”

She stopped and removed it from under her arm. The bad news was going to come out eventually. She might as well be the one to break it to him. “It’s Blue’s x-rays.”

Milt turned to face her. “Mexicali Blue?”

She nodded. “I’m afraid blood tests weren’t the only things Doc used a ringer for.”

Any trace of a smile had vanished from Milt’s face. “What do you mean?”

“The x-rays from your pre-purchase exam show a different bone structure than the ones I made last weekend.” She sighed. “I’m afraid Doc knew you were buying a lame horse. I’m sure it was another case of him and Emerick being in cahoots.”

Milt took the envelope from her, pinching it between his thumb and finger as if it were toxic. “It’s all here, is it?”

“I’m afraid so.” She strode the last few steps to the gate. “I’ve been completely wrong about Daniel too. Turns out he had nothing to do with any of it.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Jessie grabbed the pipe and gave it a tug. But it held firm with a clank. She tried again with the same result. The padlock she’d left hanging on the wire was now clipped through the latch and locked. Still clutching the gate, she felt the world inside her head grow quiet. Even the thunder sounded distant, as though she was hearing it through an echo chamber. Milt’s words—especially the raspy quality of his voice—stuck in her mind. “What did you say?”

“Daniel didn’t have anything to do with it.”

She released the gate. Turned slowly to face the man she thought was a friend.

Milt’s face was a study in agony. “Neither did Neil Emerick. It’ll be nice to pin it all on him, though. The man’s a bastard.”

The stillness inside Jessie’s head exploded. Pieces to the puzzle clicked into place. “The pre-purchase exam. You told me you didn’t have one done. But you did.” She pointed to the envelope now in his hands. “It was in Doc’s records. I mentioned to Sherry that there hadn’t been a vet check on Blue. She knew better. That’s when she figured it out.”

“Dang it, Jessie. If only you’d left it alone. That little gal never would’ve gotten wise on her own.”

A spatter of rain hit Jessie’s back, but she couldn’t blame her chill on it. “You killed Sherry. With my nippers, so it would look like I did it.”

He stuffed the envelope inside his jacket. “I hated to do it. But you made it easy. Everyone knew about the two of you feuding. With you behind bars, you’d have to quit your damned digging. It was the only way I could figure to make you stop. Other than...”

Jessie’s breath came slow. “Other than killing me too?”

He looked down at his boots and nodded.

She studied him and tried to stay calm. “Now what?”

“You haven’t left me much choice.”

She took a quick look around, memorizing the details of her surroundings—details she missed in her everyday dealings in this area. Details she needed if she were to stay alive.

Behind her, the locked gate eliminated the option to escape. The maintenance buildings on either side of her created a wide corridor to the backside. Her best bet was the barns. There were plenty of empty stalls to hide in, thanks to the exodus. Except Milt stood in the way. Her only option, and it wasn’t a good one, was surprise.

Jessie drew a breath, steeling her nerves, and charged straight at him with a yell that was half growl, half war cry. Startled, Milt raised his arms in front of him like a linebacker and lunged at her.

But she dodged to her left and threw her right shoulder into his.

The move staggered him. He didn’t go down, but she slipped his grasp and sprinted toward the barns.

Just as the clouds opened.

She hoped Milt’s age and the bad back he complained about would slow him down but wasn’t putting money on it. She raced past the first stable she came to and cut between barns. The downpour soaked through the hoodie. The discomfort didn’t bother her as much as the roar of the rain on the pavement and the roofs deafened her to his footsteps. She didn’t dare look back. Not yet.

Her lungs burned. She skimmed through and around stables, avoiding any predictable routes. Gasping for breath, she took shelter under the covered gap between barns and collapsed against the wall.

She swiped a wet arm across her face in a failed attempt to brush the water from her eyes. Her ball cap had soaked through before she’d made the turn at the first barn.

Lightning gave her a glimpse inside the shedrow. Nothing moved. No sinister figures lurked. With the stable dark once again, she hugged the wall, feeling her way from stall to stall. An avalanche of thunder rolled overhead. The rumble faded in the distance. Did she hear footsteps? She froze. Listened. But there was nothing.

Another flash revealed an open hay shed, hay stacked almost to the ceiling, directly in front of her.

Jessie dived into the shed, hoping the roar of the rain and thunder drowned out the clunk of her boots on the wooden floor. Her shin hit something. An open bale. She stumbled. Fell into the pile. Scrambling, she reached up and scaled the stack like one of those climbing walls. A bale pulled free, and she almost tumbled to the ground. She caught herself. Paused. Drew a deep breath. And then scurried to the top. Ignoring the chafing hay biting through her sleeves, she squeezed into the space between the top row and the roof and wriggled as far inside as she could.

The rain softened from a deafening