Will awakened to the realization that he had two choices. He could return to the States where it was likely he and Liz would part ways until another of the stallions was located. Where he’d have to live with the chance that she would move on to another client. And he wasn’t ready for that to happen. Or they could wait here in Italy while his team did some digging to see if he and Liz needed to follow-up with additional site visits. Waiting wasn’t his strongest suit but he considered it the better of his options.
This feels oddly like a lazy kind of morning. I watch as Will and Liz sip coffee and talk about the possibilities of the day. There seems no real plan of action as far as the missing horses, maybe some combing through files and rehashing what little facts exist.
When Will’s phone rings, he shows a bit of surprise as he tells Liz, “It’s Tucker.”
She raises her brows as he says hello to the vet and lets him know that he’s on speaker as is usually the case. Liz looks as curious as I feel. Will has already let Tucker know we delivered the Catria, safe and sound. I was privy to that call which also included the information that another animal had been stolen.
“How are things going?” Tucker asks.
“We’re stalled at the moment, following leads but nothing concrete.”
“We’ve been pretty frustrated, too. Dirks had Ms. Dane’s cabin dusted for prints and turned inside out for any kind of clue. As you suspected would be the case, there was nothing. The idea of anyone getting away with horse theft, much less murder, has been eating at both me and Jana.”
“I can understand that.” While Will isn’t a horse person, he does seem to understand the bond between animals and our bipeds. He also seems to understand the trust that equines place in their owners to keep them safe. Unlike those of my own species, equines are dependent upon their humans. I have spent some hours pondering the difference in the various species and have come to the conclusion that it is the captivity aspect that makes hooved creatures so vulnerable. If their humans fail to care for them properly, do not provide fresh food and water, they will sicken and die. While felines are far superior to canines, both can fend for themselves if need be. We have no barns and fences prohibiting our abilities and self-sufficiencies.
“We know there’s nothing we can do to solve a murder but Jana’s had a thought about the horses. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of Equine Infectious Anemia or EIA. It’s a pretty nasty disease that spreads fast and easily but I’ll skim over the details of that and let Liz fill you in on any questions you might have. It’s the test and protocol around the test that I’m going to focus on for now.”
Were this anyone but Tucker, I’d say the fellow had a bee in his bonnet buzzing without purpose but this is Tucker so I sit up and pay attention. We’d not be having this chat did he not believe he had something viable.
“The thing with EIA is that if a horse owner plans to travel, a negative Coggins, or EIA test, is required. There are some distinctions state by state but you’d still better have it handy on the road or risk quarantine. The test has been around since the 1970’s with increased usage and more strict requirements ever since. Previous test forms were all imprecise as far as the description of the horse but a recent form requires a precise description for the animal being tested. Before you might see ‘palomino with stockings and a snip’. Now you’re more apt to see ‘palomino with a snip on the nose, stockings above the knee on left front and at the knee on right front, left rear, and right rear, whorl on left hip and scar on right shoulder’.”
Tucker takes a breath but all Will says is, “I’m with you so far.” He glances at me and I’m sure he wants to know that I’m listening so that I can be of utmost assistance. As, of course, I am.
“That one change, along with new technology, made a recent effort by some vets—quite a few actually—tenable. Horse theft is a problem for every owner of every breed in every state. Some time ago, several of the breeders’ associations asked the American and Canadian veterinary associations to help create a database to tag potentially stolen horses. No one had a good way to do that.”
“Until now, perhaps?” Will suggests, catching on fast, as he usually does.
“Until now,” Tucker agrees, “and even now it’s far from perfect. But more and more vets are using online programs to store forms and share with their clients. Even farm vets are giving a nod to the age of technology.”
“But surely they can’t share client information with each other. That doesn’t sound ethical.”
“It isn’t and they can’t. But what they can share is this very detailed description of a horse, the location of their practice, and if this is their first test of a horse for this owner.”
“Ahhh.” I believe Will is beginning to see the potential, little more than a moment or two behind myself so he’s improving, which pleases me. And Liz is looking excited. “So, who is pulling this information together?”
“A very pissed off woman who had her horse stolen about two years ago and tracked him down with a shotgun and very little help from law enforcement. She’s a retired college professor with a background in programming. She created an easy-to-use data base and asked vets to start adding as much information as possible, especially new-to-them horses. Few of the vets used it until horse theft rose about the same time their client base began expecting more online access to their records.” Tucker chuckles. “We change but we change slowly.”
I understand his humor. Many professions are slow to transform unlike gumshoes, like myself, who must keep up with everything current in order to out think our many nemeses.
“I can see some real potential for lawsuits here,” Will comments. Hmmm, yes, he has a very valid point.
“No doubt if client information were shared but there’s no place to input that kind of info. Any concern has to go through law enforcement for an owner to be traced down.”
That is reassuring. To a certain degree at least.
“So, Jana would like to start going through this database? Sounds like a long stretch.”
Tucker sighs. “And a possible waste of time. Yeah, I know, but she’s determined to do something. For some reason, the Catria got to her. And Natalie’s…I mean Nadine’s…death. She’s having nightmares. I’m hoping it will help her work through some of that if she has something concrete to do, something she feels might make a difference.”
“You’ll need photographs of the missing horses.”
“That’s why I’m calling. Is that something you can share? We’re at ground zero without a visual.”
“We?” Liz smiles. I suspect she grasps, as do I, that Tucker wants to do this as much as Jana.
“Yeah, well, I can spare an hour or so a day helping her look.”
“I’ll email all that I have to you within the hour,” Will assures him. “What else do you need?”
“To be honest, I don’t know yet. I can’t think of anything but I didn’t think of the photographs. Jana did.”
“Any lead you can find could put us a step closer.” Despite his words, I know Will thinks it a long shot, but, like me, he’ll take what help he can get. “I wish you luck and we’ll wait to hear. If you think of anything else you can use, let me know. But Tucker?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t do more than look. Don’t reach out to anyone or leave your tracks online. These guys don’t play.” Will’s tone is as grim as murder itself. “They’ve killed once that we know and I suspect they’ve killed more. I’m digging into that now.”
My concern is will Tucker realize how easily those online traces are left? Will he be careful to cover his internet tracks? That may be a skill and a knowledge neither the vet nor Jana can claim and I’m not sure how to convey my concern to Will. I’ll have to think on the how and watch for opportunity if one should present itself.
The call ends and Will is diligent in sending the requested photographs. Afterward, he suggests to Liz that they take a walk into the nearby village whereupon I move to a sofa cushion, stretch out, and close my eyes. Rome and Florence held moments of fascination but there can’t be much in the rural township down the road to warrant any expenditure of my energy. There is only so much to be admired in historical architecture, however well crafted and carefully preserved.
The soft buzz of insects through a nearby open window is a nice accompaniment to the wind rustling the sheer curtains. There is the occasional call of a bird that jars—I’m not fond of birds—but it’s distant and not too intrusive.
I doze but almost too soon hear the footsteps on the back terrace. As I suspected, Will and Liz didn’t find much to entertain them. But my acute inner radar nudges. I still and my eyes open with an immediate alertness. They didn’t leave by the terrace, therefore, the garden gate would still be locked. Nor does the second set of steps sound feminine in the least. They are, like the first, decidedly male. There is a difference, you know. It’s in the footwear as well as the stride.
I keep still and scan the table top and surrounding areas. Good. No sign of Will’s laptop or either his duffle or Liz’s backpack in which they keep their electronics and other personal items. Liz’s duffle bag only ever holds her boots and spare clothing. My tactics would have to be much different if the items holding their personal information were lying about. There is no reason—at the moment—for active engagement or confrontation. I leap to the nearest window ledge from where I shall observe their actions, the easier to exit if I deem it expedient.
The two men who enter the back door aren’t just quiet, they are silent. Very professional. I could admire that in them did I not know they were up to no good. I would assume at this point they believe Will and Liz still within the abode, doubtless as the motorcycle remains in the neat circle drive at the side of the villa. Making little sound, the men throw wide cupboard doors and drawers in the kitchen area, then toss pillows to the floor in the sitting space. My window perch is behind the smallish, but still elegant, dining table in between the two. From here, I can keep an eye on the dirt and gravel road to the village so that my humans aren’t taken unaware.
Ah, the two cretins have guns. I’d hoped that did not prove to be the case. But they pull them from their holsters and move toward the stairs leading up the bedrooms. I find myself hard-pressed not to unsheathe my claws and give them a taste of what some have learned to fear from me in past encounters. I am no insignificant adversary. Even so, there are times, as the bard warned, when discretion is the better part of valor and I decide this is such a time.
Though they move in sync, they have yet to speak a word. Kudos to them in that regard. It’s no failing that they’ve found nothing where there’s nothing to find. That is simply a testament of my humans’ wisdom in not relaxing their guards in times when events move slowly. Even without their words and voices to follow, I can trace the movements above between the two bedrooms that Liz and Will inhabit. And not from their footsteps alone. They’ve grown the slightest bit frustrated and have begun to let the slide of a drawer and the thumping of a door be heard here and there.
But I can’t focus over-much on that, my keen hearing picks up a distant crunch of gravel beneath a booted foot. I wait as there have been passers-by in the last twenty-four hours. But no, a soft laugh and it is Liz’s. They must be warned. I exit the window and run to intercept my humans.
They are at the foot of the small rise that will bring them in sight of the house. I plant myself in front of them and hiss. Will sees me first and places his arm in front of Liz who glances from him to me. She stoops as if to stroke me and I spit at her. Sadly, it must be done. I’ll apologize later. Will, more accustomed to danger despite the unfortunate experiences to which Liz has been subjected just recently, looks beyond me.
“I believe we have visitors. Unwelcome ones. And perhaps with guns?” He looks at me and I close one eye in affirmation.
I can almost see the thoughts that run through his head as he studies Liz. He’d like for her to remain here but there are two impediments. If the wankers come this way, she would be alone and at great risk. And he can’t be certain that Liz wouldn’t decide to come to our rescue whether we need it or not. She’s a brave one is our Liz.
Will turns his attention back to me. “I need a distraction, something that will drive them out of the house. I’m sure you can get back in the same way you got out but I’d rather know which way to expect them to exit. And I think that will be the same way they entered. Can you get in that way?”
What a ridiculous question! There is little I cannot accomplish. I would have thought he’d know that by now. I turn to walk up the rise to the villa and leave Will to comprehend that my action is an affirmative. He’s a smart boy. He’ll figure it out. If not, Liz can doubtless help him with that. Hehe.
“Shall we?” Will asked quietly.
Liz fell into step beside him, feeling her heart start to pound. She didn’t like any of this. The memory of a gun pointed at Will’s abdomen was far too fresh. And she knew he’d put himself in harm’s way to protect her. She took a deep breath and asked, “What can I do to make what you must do easiest and safest?”
He glanced at her, that faint dimple showing in one cheek. “You don’t happen to have another tranquilizer handy, do you?”
“I wish,” she muttered. But that simple, light-hearted question lifted her spirits. She hadn’t been helpless then and she wouldn’t be now. If Will got in a bind, if he needed her, she’d improvise. However she had to.
They crested the rise in time to see Trouble poised atop the wall of the terrace. When he saw them, he dropped into the garden below and then moved close to the front door.
“The gate should still be locked,” Will murmured, “so they went over the wall. If they go that way, it will slow them down. So that’s what I need to make happen.”
“I’m headed for that window that’s open. The one where Trouble was sitting earlier this morning.” He hesitated. “These bricks lining the front walk…?”
She nodded to show she was listening.
“When you hear whatever distraction Trouble causes, I need you to start heaving them at the front door. Make them think someone is trying to break it down.”
“I can do that.”
“I’ve no doubt.” He winked. “I’m sure I’ll have damages to pay for when all’s said and done. Make every brick count.”
She gave him a quick grin, feeling less like a potential victim and more like a co-conspirator as she stepped quietly in place and picked up the first brick.
Will moved to the window and crouched below it. When she heard a yowl, then a clatter, then a curse from inside, she drew back and let the first brick fly as Will disappeared through the window.
Her second brick hit almost square on the indention left by the first and she was proud of her aim and pleased with the heavy thud against the solid door. It did, indeed, sound as if someone were trying to break it down.
The din from inside topped the racket she was making. It sounded as if someone were trying to escape the house but the staccato of gunfire sent her heart plummeting to her stomach. She threw the third brick and sent a prayer with it, that it had been Will’s gun that fired, keeping the intruders on the run, and not them shooting at him or Trouble.
When Trouble howled again, she smiled. He sounded angered and not the least hurt. She bent to pick up another missile but Will called through the window. “We’ve routed the enemy. I’m opening the front door.”
He was as good as his word and when he stood grinning at her, she shook her head. “You’re well entertained, aren’t you?”
He cocked his head to one side and looked from the brick in her hand to her face. His grin broadened. “Aren’t you?”
She lowered the brick back into place and dusted her hands. She studied the two solid dents to the front door and nodded decisively before she relented and gave him a grin in return because, yes, as a matter of fact, she was entertained. And well entertained, at that.
“I’m glad you’re well paid for your work,” she said as she walked past him into the villa. “The door looks original. The bill won’t be light.” But if it helped save his life and Trouble’s it was worth every penny. And it was his money, after all.
The groceries they’d bought in the village were delivered before dark as promised, the eggs and milk packed in ice in a wooden crate and the fresh vegetables in burlap bags and left with the assurance that the containers could be returned at their convenience. There were oranges among the vegetables as requested and Liz made them each an Aperol Spritz while Will chopped vegetables for omelets.
She sipped at her drink and watched Will work, admiring that he knew his way around a kitchen. Far better than she did for sure. “How did they follow us here?”
“They didn’t exactly.”
Will looked chagrined and she lifted her brows. “Then what exactly got them here?”
After easing the first omelet onto a heated plate, he slipped a hand into his pocket and held out a tiny metal device to her. “Rookie mistake.”
She held out her hand and he laid it in her palm so that she could examine it closer. “A bug?” She’d never seen one before, not outside of a photograph.
He poured the next omelet into the pan and layered the chopped vegetables on top. “More accurately a wireless GPS tracker. It was on the motorcycle.”
“It’s small.” Smaller than a matchbox.
“But big enough to do what was needed,” he said, his tone rueful. “It got them here. I almost suspect if we’d done no more than visit the Ventasso stud farm and then taken a flight home, we would’ve been left alone. Coming back here made someone suspicious.”
“The thieves?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Politics here are as touchy as those in the States, maybe more so. Cervelli is a high-ranking statesman with as many enemies as any senator or congressman in the U.S.”
She frowned. “Do you think it’s unrelated to the horses?”
“It’s at least a possibility. It would be different if we’d been hit the first night here but the gap makes me wonder.” He shrugged. “It’s fifty-fifty either way and either way they learned nothing.”
“When do you think they planted it?”
“If it’s to do with Cervelli instead of the stallions, most likely when the bike was parked outside the government building. Otherwise, who knows? It’s a simple matter to slap it on and walk away. Easy to bend down, pretend to tie your shoe, pick up something you’ve dropped…”
“Sounds like something you’ve done a time or two.”
With a smile at her tone, he agreed, “A time or two.”
He lifted the two finished plates. “If you’ll grab my glass, dinner is served.”
She carried their glasses to the table where linens and tableware were already in place. When he sat, she lifted her glass. “To success?”
He touched his glass to hers. “Success and safety.” And just that quickly, she was reminded that what they were doing wasn’t without risks.
Later, they shifted to the sofa with what was left of their drinks. Will had his laptop open and Trouble had curled up beside Liz, the better to enjoy the soft strokes she gave him.
Liz had just closed her eyes when Will said quietly, “Time to go home.”
She opened them again at his tone and straightened to look when he turned the laptop toward her. On one side of the screen was a gorgeous horse of ebony black without a single marking on his legs. On his left nostril there was one thin, white curve that looked like an upside-down moon so small it could easily be missed. The other half of the screen displayed a form with the name of a veterinary clinic, a box checked beside a statement that read ‘first time test of this horse for this owner’ and a description that read ‘solid black, one marking, upside down thumbnail moon, left nostril.’
“Any idea where this vet is located?”
“Not yet, when my team gets done, we will. Tucker sent these to me compliments of Jana’s online search. I’ve sent it on to my agency.”
Liz leaned in to study the photograph. “He’s breathtaking. Which is he?”
“The Ventasso.”
She thought of Signore Basilio and Signora Miriam. Their heartbreak at his loss and their hopes that he would be returned to them. Like Nadine’s death, their grief made this personal to her. She wondered if it were the same for Will or if it were no more than a job to him, one he enjoyed, no doubt, but still primarily a way to make a living.
Fifteen minutes later he was on the phone making flight arrangements with Stack and she had her answer.
“Yeah, we can get back to Switzerland if that’s our best route out. We’ve got a line on the Ventasso and I need to find him before either of his owners die of a broken heart. Then, I’m going to nail the bastard behind the thefts so he can’t do this to anyone else.”
Will watched the cat stalk back and forth across the sun-warmed tarmac in front of the small hangar. The plane was late and Will hadn’t had a word from Stack or Anya on the reason for the delay. That was concerning but not yet cause for alarm.
The weather was nice here but there were more than a thousand miles of varying weather between Switzerland and the States. There could, he reminded himself, be some amount of inconvenience if Stack’s team proved a no show. Once in Switzerland, Will had made arrangements for the motorcycle to be returned to the rental station and they’d taken a train to a ski resort town outside of Geneva, then a taxi to the landing strip. It was off season so they’d attracted a small amount of attention but nothing that alarmed him. The problem would be if Anya didn’t arrive and they had to take a room in town. He didn’t want them to be exposed for any length of time here.
Even Liz’s attention seemed heightened as she studied the horizon though she didn’t pace. Will couldn’t even picture her pacing. The woman had too much self-control. Or too much something. She’d worn her hair loose today and the breeze played in it so that the ripples caught the sunlight, reflecting back glints of gold.
Will crossed his arms and leaned against the metal siding and the move or his stare pulled Liz’s attention to him. She looked from him to the cat and opened her mouth to speak when the engine drone of a small jet turned both their heads toward the sky. Even Trouble sat at the toe of Will’s boots and looked up.
Liz smiled at him, then at Will. “Italy was beautiful. I’m glad I came but I’ll confess I’m not looking forward to the flight. I hope we don’t have to make too many more of these trips.”
A worry Will hadn’t acknowledged—that Liz would elect not to continue the search in light of the danger that had proved all too real—eased at her words. “If we do, I’ll make sure you see Venice.”
“I’d rather see the Amalfi Coast.”
Her tone had been light but Will decided to take her at her word. “I can make that happen as well.”
He thought of all the places he’d seen that he’d like to show her. Greece, he thought. And Spain. But the plane began its descent and the moment to tell her of them passed. And, he knew it was just as well. For now.
Anya smiled at them from the top of the steps as they ascended carrying their bags. Liz was surprised to realize the young woman felt like an old friend, one she was happy to see safe. They greeted each other warmly and she thought, perhaps, Anya felt the same. She supposed Shakespeare wasn’t wrong in that misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. Under normal circumstances, she and Anya would never have met, never have had anything in common. Being on the same side at the wrong end of rifle fire gave them a unique common denominator.
“Heard you had a bit more excitement,” Anya said as she gave Liz a hug.
“A little.” Liz thought about the motorcycle colliding with the vee of a building in Rome, plunging a hypodermic needle intended for a horse into a man’s back, and her smile faded.
“Yeah,” Anya said with sympathy. “Will told Stack some of it was nasty business.”
“Nasty but necessary.” As Liz said the words, she knew she meant them more than she would have thought. Will had done what he had to do. And so had she.