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

and the sickening thud of metal shoes against flesh filled the stall. The coppery stench of blood curdled Jessie’s stomach. As the horse reared a third time, she made it to the closed stall door and clawed her way up the wood. The stallion drove down on Milt one more time.

Jessie reached over the door and fumbled for the latch. Straw rustled behind her. From the corner of her eye she saw the big chestnut. His head snaked out in front of him as he advanced toward her. In two more steps he’d be on her, but she couldn’t watch. She had to find the damned latch.

Her fingers did not touch the steel bolt, but she heard it scrape, metal-on-metal. The door swung open, and she tumbled into the aisle. Strong hands dragged her from the stall. The door slammed behind her. She heard and felt the impact as Clown crashed into it and let loose another blood-chilling scream.

Jessie’s rescuer knelt beside her and helped her to sit. She raised her head and stared into Daniel’s pale blue eyes.

“Milt,” she whispered. “Help me save Milt.”

“It’s too late.” Daniel’s voice was soft. “There’s nothing left to save.”

Jessie choked back a sob. “How did you...?”

“Vanessa called me. She said you phoned and were in trouble. She couldn’t track down Greg, so she called me instead.”

Jessie closed her eyes, grateful for the ditzy blonde’s remarkable memory for names and phone numbers. At the same time, Jessie wished she could close her ears to the thrashing going on inside Clown’s stall. Wished she could close her mind to the memories of the last few hours. The last few weeks. When she opened her eyes again, Daniel was watching her. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

In the distance, the wail of sirens merged with Clown’s screams.

Daniel took off his coat and bundled it around her. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

She glanced at the stall. The same stall where Doc had died. And now Milt. “You’re wrong. There’s everything to be sorry for.”

Twenty-Nine

The icepack felt delicious against Jessie’s face, quelling the fiery daggers stabbing into her cheek and eye. If only it could numb her brain.

“You’re gonna have a hell of a shiner.”

She looked at Greg with her good eye. “You think?”

Jessie sat sideways on the gurney inside the ambulance. Greg perched on the edge of the jump seat across from her, resting his elbows on his knees. They both turned their heads to look out the open back doors.

The sight was too déjà vu for Jessie. The road below Barn E was jammed with police cars, lights flashing. The coroner’s van had pulled in a few minutes earlier. From where she sat, she couldn’t see them wheel the cot into the shedrow. Couldn’t see them bring the bagged body out. She didn’t need to.

She’d already given statements to two uniformed officers as well as Trooper Larry Popovich. He’d had the nerve to hint that she was the one who drugged the horse, so she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see the big trooper show up in the ambulance doorway. He sat on the bumper step, and the vehicle rocked slightly from the additional load.

Greg shifted to face his colleague. “Larry, don’t you think you could cut her some slack?”

“Relax, Cameron.” The trooper pulled a paper bag from his pocket, snapped on a Latex glove, and removed a cell phone from the sack. “We found this in the blacksmith’s truck.”

Jessie looked at the phone and then back at Popovich. “Is that...Miguel Diaz’s?”

“Uh-huh. Apparently, Mr. Dodd found it and instead of turning it in to lost and found, used it to call Doc Lewis and then 911 after watching Lewis die. And he texted you. Those are the last three numbers in its log.” Popovich dropped the phone back into the evidence bag and peeled off the glove. “By itself, it doesn’t clear you. But I’ve talked to Vanessa Yarnevich.” He shot a glance at Greg before turning his full attention back to Jessie. “And one of the county detectives spoke with Mrs. Dodd. They both confirm your story.”

The numbness had leeched out of Jessie’s skin, leaving her face throbbing. She squished the chemicals around in the plastic sack to find the coldest spot and pressed it to her cheek. “Catherine must be devastated.”

Popovich crossed his arms. “The only thing I still don’t get is that hair clip in your desk.”

The one thing she hadn’t been able to get Milt to clear up. She didn’t need him to. “Milt planted it at my house so I’d think Sherry was behind the break in.” Jessie huffed. “Turns out Sherry’s the one who pieced it all together. He killed her before she had a chance to tell me.” Jessie looked at Popovich. “Or you.”

Daniel appeared at the rear of the ambulance. It was the first Jessie had seen of him since the ambulance arrived. His face and voice remained stoic. “Are you okay?”

She looked down at her boots. Okay was about the last word she’d use to describe how she was. She’d lost the man who’d been closer to her than her own father only to find out she hardly knew him. Now she’d lost another man she’d thought was a good friend after discovering she’d been even more wrong about him. Milt had killed Doc. And nearly succeeded in killing her. Yet, on top of all that, she ached at his death. “I’m just peachy.”

Popovich rose. The ambulance lifted with him. He reached in and slapped Greg on the knee. “I’ll catch you later.” He pointed a stubby finger at Jessie. “Stay out of trouble.” Then he disappeared around the side of the vehicle.

Daniel’s gaze shifted from Jessie to Greg and back. “Seriously. How are you?”

Jessie lowered the icepack. From the reactions she’d been getting, she gathered the shovel had left a mark. “According to the paramedics, I probably have a concussion. They’re pretty insistent I let them transport me to the hospital.”

“I think that would be