Whirlwind (19 page)

Turning right, Jas followed Marietta, Gerald, and Mrs. Pavia down the aisle. A state-of-the-art washroom; a clipping area; a restroom; and a supply room filled with balms, sprays, supplements, and totes full of brushes were
located on the right side of the aisle. On the left of the aisle, the horses were housed in roomy stalls. Whirlwind had been living in four-star accommodations.

Gerald stopped in front of one of the stalls. The tops of all the doors were barred so the horses couldn’t hang their heads over. “I want to introduce you to Magic Man, four-time Florida Hunter Champion.”

Jas frowned, wondering why he was stalling when all she wanted to do was see Whirlwind. Then she noticed Mrs. Pavia on her cell phone, probably trying to roust a lawyer. Marietta was on her phone, too. The investigator held up one finger as if telling Jas to hold on one minute.

Impatiently, Jas peeked through the bars. Magic Man wore a fly sheet, although she hadn’t seen one fly. He also wore a cribbing strap. And no wonder. The handsome Thoroughbred was probably in his stall day and night. No chance to let off energy rolling, grazing, and hanging out with his buddies. So he’d developed the horrible habit of cribbing, or wind sucking. She also noticed the stall walls were high and solid so even in the barn the horses couldn’t see each other. Typical of a show barn; what wasn’t typical was the piped in classical music.

“You play music for the horses?” she asked Gerald.

“Of course. That way they can’t hear each other, so they think they’re alone.”

“But horses are herd animals,” Jas said, horrified. Even Hugh hadn’t gone
that
far.

“True. But if they don’t see or hear each other, they never get attached or herd bound. Nothing worse than a young horse neighing for his friend when he’s in the show ring.”

Jas blinked in amazement. Had she been just as brainwashed when she’d lived at High Meadows?

“Where’s Whirlwind?” she suddenly asked, charging past him down the aisle.

“Wait.” Gerald’s boots thudded behind her. Even Marietta had snapped her phone shut and was hurrying after her. Jas glanced in each stall as she passed: black, bay, too tall, too short. Abruptly, she skidded to a halt and stared through the bars of the end stall. A chestnut horse faced her, its head hanging. It was covered with a fly sheet, its mane was covered with a mane tamer, and the tail was wrapped in a tail bag.

Still, Jas recognized the fine head, the soft brown eyes, the white star.

“Whirlwind.” She slammed open the latch on the stall door.
“Whirlwind!”

At the sound of Jas’s voice, Whirlwind threw up her head. Her ears flicked. Dancing forward, she greeted Jas with excited puffs and whickers.

Jas flung her arms around the mare’s neck. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered into the mane tamer. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

Jas pulled back, wanting to examine every inch of the mare. Whirlwind snuffled her wet cheek, and Jas burst into teary laughter—of joy and relief. “I can’t believe I finally found you!”

“That’s your proof?” she heard Mrs. Pavia protest. “As far as we know, Ms. Baylor, you hired some actress to stage this touching reunion.”

“Oh? Then who coached the horse?” Marietta asked. “It’s obvious that this horse and Jas know each other.”

Mrs. Pavia swept into the stall. Grabbing hold of the halter, she jerked the mare away from Jas. Furious, Jas curled her fingers into fists. There was no way this woman was keeping her from her horse. She stepped forward,
shaking with anger, but Marietta touched her shoulder. “Let me handle this.”

“I paid two hundred fifty thousand dollars for this horse from a reputable dealer,” Mrs. Pavia ranted. “There’s no way I’m letting you take her.”

“Caveat emptor,” Marietta murmured as she pulled her BlackBerry from her purse. “Gerald, do you have pad and paper? I want to make sure that Mrs. Pavia has the phone number for Hugh Robicheaux. He’s the man in Virginia who fraudulently sold Whirlwind to Scott Black, your so-called reputable dealer.”

“What am I supposed to do with that information?” Mrs. Pavia demanded.

“Give it to your lawyers.” Marietta aimed an unladylike look at the other woman. “Now please let go of Whirlwind.”

“Oh, oh,” Mrs. Pavia sputtered as she waded in her heels through the shavings, giving the investigator a wide berth. She stopped in front of the trainer. “Gerald!
Do
something.”

As soon as the woman let go of the halter, Whirlwind spun toward Jas. The mare’s eyes were white-rimmed with fear. Jas slipped one arm over the horse’s withers, the other around
her neck. “I’ll never let you go, ever again,” she promised.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Pavia,” a red-faced Gerald was saying. “When Ms. Baylor came yesterday, she brought quite a bit of evidence. So I was pretty sure Early Star was the horse she was looking for.” Unable to hide a smile, he gestured toward Jas and Whirlwind. “Horses don’t lie, so it’s obvious these two belong to each other.”

“You’ll
all
be hearing from my lawyers.” Mrs. Pavia shook her finger at Gerald and then Marietta before marching up the aisle.

“Excuse my client,” Gerald said. “She does love this horse.”

Love this horse?
Jas snorted. “Has she ever groomed Whirlwind? Patted her? Fed her a carrot?”

Mr. Fordham seemed confused by the questions. Jas waved him away. “Never mind.” Without asking permission, she began unfastening the Velcro straps of the mane tamer and then the tail wrap. As she worked, smoothing Whirlwind’s coat, soothing her with soft words, she let go of her anger, her fears. She’d found Whirlwind. Let Mrs. Pavia bring an army of lawyers. Nothing was going to take her away from Jas again.

“Mrs. Pavia discovered the mare herself,
through a friend who’d used Scott Black,” Gerald said as if that explained the woman’s behavior. Leaning against the doorjamb, Marietta listened. Jas started on the fly sheet. Seeing Whirlwind all fancied up was too much.

“When she took me to see Early Star, I was wary because I’d never dealt with Mr. Black before,” he continued. “But when I saw how fabulous the mare was, I urged Mrs. Pavia to buy her on the spot.”

“Where did you see the mare?” Marietta asked.

“At a barn in Lexington. We flew to Roanoke, then drove to Lexington. Black met us at a farm—I think it was called Rolling Acres. We had the mare vanned to Florida the next day.”

“No vet check?”

“We had one done here in Florida—she vetted clean. Black gave us a week’s trial with the horse, which I requested. As Mrs. Pavia said, everything seemed to be in order.” He shrugged. “I never suspected she wasn’t the horse on the registration.”

“The real Early Star was murdered,” Jas said flatly.

Gerald started. “What?”

“Hugh, Whirlwind’s owner, pois—”

“Jas.” Marietta shot her a look of warning, then said to the trainer, “The lawyer from the insurance company is faxing documents so we can take possession of Whirlwind. A Florida judge will have to approve seizure and transport of the horse, so it may take a day or two. We want this all to be aboveboard.”

“Fine.” Gerald nervously checked his watch. “In the meantime, I have to leave. The horses are fed, watered, and safe here in the barn. The hurricane’s supposed to hit early tonight, and my condo needs to be secured. I suggest you ladies get to a hotel as soon as possible.”

“I’ve already made reservations at the Marriot Inn. They assured me it has weathered many a storm.”

“I’m not leaving Whirlwind,” Jas said.

The two stopping talking to stare at her.

“I’m sleeping here. You must have a cot for horse shows.”

“Yes, we do,” Gerald said. “Stashed in the supply room. You’re welcome to stay. The barn is hurricane proof, but I had to turn off the motion-detecting security system. It would be going off all night because of flying branches and debris.”

Marietta frowned. “Jas, I’m going with Gerald to the office to check for a fax. We’ll talk about you staying here when I get back.” She sounded like a disapproving parent.

“Fine.”
But I won’t change my mind
. Jas unbuckled the fly sheet, slid it off Whirlwind, and ran her palm over the mare’s sleek coat. Laying her cheek against her shoulder, Jas sighed with happiness. Finally, she stepped back and, hands on hips, ran her gaze from the mare’s ears to her tail. She wanted to drink in every inch.

Turning her head, Whirlwind looked at her, her eyes deep and brown. Jas bit her lip, trying not to cry again. It was hard to believe
this
was real.

“And no matter what Marietta says, I’m not leaving you,” Jas said. “Which means I better figure out where to sleep.”

Picking up the fly sheet and wraps, she walked down to the supply room. She found a cot, a pillow, flashlights, and blankets along with every type of grooming device. What she didn’t find was evidence that the horses were treated as anything except commodities. There were no carrots tucked away in buckets or
goofy names like Buster and Pal tacked on the stall doors. There were no paisley helmet covers or drawings of horses with stick legs and huge heads. Actually, there were no signs of kids at all. No signs of horse-crazy riders who adored their mounts no matter how furry or swaybacked.

Grabbing up a grooming tote, Jas hurried back to Whirlwind’s stall. “I’ve
got
to get you out of this place,” she said when she unlatched the door. She set down the tote and pulled out a soft brush. Not that the mare was dirty. Far from it—she was too clean. It was Jas who needed grooming “therapy.” She’d found Whirlwind. The mare was fine. They were taking her back to Virginia. Still, butterflies fluttered in Jas’s stomach. She couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that
Hugh was out there
.

“Good news!” Marietta appeared in the doorway. “Scott Black has agreed to testify against Hugh in return for immunity.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Jas stopped brushing. “Before I jump up and down with joy?”

“It means we’ve got Hugh. Not only will Scott Black testify that Hugh contacted him about selling a Thoroughbred named Early
Star, but he can also link Hugh to Tommy Looney, who delivered the mare to Black’s farm in Lexington.” Marietta’s face broke into a smile of triumph. “Most importantly, Jas, it means that Hugh Robicheaux will be behind bars for a looong time.”

“YES!” JAS AND MARIETTA CHEERED AND SLAPPED
palms as if their underdog team had finally won. Jas ruffled Whirlwind’s mane, scratching her favorite spot behind her ears. “Did you hear that?” she told the mare. “Hugh the horse killer is finally getting what he deserves.” The mare wiggled her lips. “Look, she’s as happy as we are.”

“She’ll be happier when we get her out of this prison.” Marietta grimaced at the bars on the door. “I’ve been here three times now. Never once have I seen a horse out of its stall.”

“You noticed, too. Creepy, huh?” Jas continued brushing. “If Hugh goes to jail, will we be able to take Whirlwind to Second Chance Farm? I want her to experience life as a real horse.”

“Not right away. Our court system moves
as slow as molasses.” Marietta pulled her cell phone from her purse. “Let’s make sure the lawyers have an airtight case against Hugh first. Then he’ll have no reason to come after Whirlwind. I’m going to take some photos with my phone and e-mail them to the lawyer’s office. Can you lead her into the aisle where there’s more light?”

For the next ten minutes, Jas helped Marietta photograph Whirlwind. The investigator snapped pictures of the mare’s head and white stripe, her stockings, and the scar under her forelock. “These will be dated so Hugh can’t claim someone took them last spring.”

“Instead he can claim we painted a horse to look like Whirlwind.”

Marietta arched one brow. “He can claim all he wants. I had Gerald fax his statement before he left. Hugh’s arrogant, but there’s no way he can accuse
all
of us of being crooks.”

Just then, rat-a-tat-tats sounded on the roof of the barn. “Rain,” Jas said. “You better hurry and get to the hotel, Marietta.”

“Hotel? Like I’m going to let you stay here alone? Not gonna happen, honey. There’s a comfortable sofa in the office. However, I will need to borrow some of those blankets you found.”

“You don’t have to stay here,” Jas protested. “I’m perfectly capable …”

Marietta raised her hand. “I know you are, sweetheart. You’ve had to handle a lot this summer. For a kid of almost fourteen, you’ve done incredibly well. But quit arguing and accept the fact that I’m staying here, too.” She smiled. “Hey, I don’t want to leave Whirlwind, either. This lady wasn’t easy to find.”

“Thank you, Marietta. For finding her.”

“My pleasure.” Marietta snapped her phone shut. “Photos done and sent.” Overhead, the tapping changed to drumming. Outside, the wind rattled the barn’s high double doors at each end of the aisle. Inside, the temperature dropped. “Now let’s drag out those blankets and shut off those fans. It’s going to be a chilly night.”

Clicking on a flashlight, Jas checked her wrist-watch. Eleven o’clock. She rolled over on the cot that she’d placed in front of Whirlwind’s open door. Except for one blanket beneath her, there wasn’t much padding, and she couldn’t get comfortable. Not that she could’ve slept with all the racket.