Morgan parked in the lot by the arena and scanned the fields. Sarah and Greg were out with the horses. Perfect. She’d timed her arrival early enough in the morning not to run into Bruce. Unless he’d changed his schedule, Tuesday patients came later in the day.
She pulled a new bridle out of the trunk and made her way to the tack room. Should anyone ask, she’d say she came to check the size of the new one against the old.
Happy to find the room empty, she went to Sarah’s backpack in the corner. One day she’d passed by when Sarah had plucked out a set of keys from the front zipped pocket. Morgan glanced around and dug out the keys. She checked her watch. Sarah didn’t head to the house before noon most days, so Morgan should have plenty of time. She returned to her car and drove to the hardware store to make copies.
A short time later, she pulled back into the lot. With luck on her side, everyone was still out in the fields. She grabbed the bridle again and hurried to the stables. As she rounded the corner to the tack room, Joe came out. Her gut lurched.
He made no bones about his dislike of her. His gaze went to the bridle in her hand. As much as it killed her, she held her hostility in check. Couldn’t have him bad-mouthing her to Bruce.
She plastered on a smile. “Hi, Joe.”
He didn’t bother with pleasantries. Most times, he ignored her. He nodded, but his eyes narrowed. She strolled into the tack room and hurried to Sarah’s backpack to return the keys. Seconds later, Joe entered. Morgan pulled down Princess’s old bridle from a peg and made a show of holding it up to the new one.
Too close.
The lame-o fence fixer had almost caught her.
Too bad, old man. He’d never outwit her. She smiled. Now the real fun would start.
Leonard slid his binoculars down from his eyes to make a timed entry in his tablet. The fourth day of surveillance, he hoped to establish a clear pattern of activity from Sarah. After she’d come home crying on Saturday, she’d spent the rest of the weekend in the house. Obviously, she was too upset over missing him to do anything. His heart swelled. She loved him so much.
He sat in the middle of the tarp he’d placed on the ground. A gnat buzzed in his ear, and he swatted it. For the third time in twenty minutes, he pulled out bug repellent. He stood, closed his eyes, and pressed the trigger to spray in a fluid motion from his head to his boots. When the mist settled, he sat. Later, he would scrub his face to remove the poisonous DEET and wash his clothes in the tub he’d disinfected with bleach. He never used laundromats. They were fraught with bacteria from people’s sweaty clothes.
He hated the forest. The bugs that crawled onto his towel. The birds that screeched in the trees. Complete chaos over which he had no control. But he’d endure it. For her.
After researching horse farms, he understood their schedules, which included early feedings. Leaving the hotel by four in the morning gave him enough time and the cover of darkness to set up for his surveillance. He’d parked his rental car off the road behind a large tree near the woods.
When Sarah came out of the house at six o’clock, his breath hitched. Like yesterday, she wore boots, jeans, and a T-shirt. Clearly, she wasn’t dressed to dance. So graceful, her every move. She all but floated across the yard.
He focused his binoculars on her as she led horses into the fields, lugged buckets out of the barn, and filled them with water. His ballerina shouldn’t be performing menial tasks. Unacceptable. He’d convinced himself she’d just been helping out yesterday, but now it seemed she might work at the farm.
Calluses would form on her smooth, perfect hands. The stench of manure would cling to her hair and clothing. He wrinkled his nose. They would have to throw out everything she wore at the ranch. He’d order new outfits for her online and have them delivered to the hotel. Then, he’d wash them and store the garments in his suitcase so they never touched any other part of the room. At least he’d be returning the rental car, so the dirt and smell wouldn’t ever be in his own vehicle.
While making more notes, he shook his head. This had to end. So many people came in and out of the farm and house. He had to get her alone. For now, he’d have to wait and establish the patterns of the farm’s daily routines. No rush. He could be a patient man now that he had his love in sight. Planning was everything.
He brought up pictures of her on the screen of his iPad. Since he wasn’t home, he couldn’t keep to his routine of counting paces through his bedroom to tap her photos. His shoulders tensed. He swiped his finger across the display to bring up the next shot. After running through them four times, he took a deep breath. Better. Everything would be all right. He had his ballerina in his sights.
Soon, he’d find a way to get to her alone and take her back.