Jacob
Fuck.
I screwed up. I asked Hamish whether he knew Morton Ackers, but never bothered asking him if he knew the damn trainer.
What are the odds?
Hamish and I are similar in build and even looks, or at least we used to be. Back in the day our commander frequently mistook one of us for the other. I’d gambled that, given Hamish has worked in Canada for fifteen years, and even I have a hard time recognizing myself, I could get away with impersonating him.
I hadn’t counted on coming face-to-face with someone who actually spent time with him.
I think I managed to duck and weave my way through the rehashing of an apparent shared time at a training facility near Pocatello, Idaho. I don’t think I’ve ever even been in Idaho. I probably came off as an asshole, which is preferable to being pegged as a fake.
But an even bigger problem is Rajani, and the confused looks she’s sending my way. To her credit, she hasn’t questioned me out loud, but I’m sure once we’re alone, I’ll be in the hot seat.
I trail behind as Doyle shows Raj around the stables in a somewhat proprietary way. Other than Arion’s Moon, there are three more thoroughbreds in the stables. One is Pure Delight, and the other two I’m not familiar with, but according to Doyle those are owned by Pegasus GLAN as well, and considered up-and-comers on the track.
The facilities are impressive. Clean—kept that way by several stable hands we encounter—modern, outfitted with climate control, and with a high-end, close-circuit security system that allows the monitoring of every individual stall.
It must’ve cost a sweet penny, and the agent is showing it off with the pride of an owner. It seems a bit excessive for someone only doing a job.
“Oh wow,” Raj comments on the view when we step out the rear doors.
We’re at a bit of an elevation, overlooking an inlet of Lake Cumberland. It’s a beautiful spot, but looking over at the lodge, which sits at a slightly higher level, I bet the view is even better.
“What are those buildings over there?” Raj asks, pointing in the opposite direction.
To the left of us the shore juts out slightly, and tucked back into the tree line three cabins are visible. The satellite images I reviewed showed partial roofs of several structures, mostly hidden in the trees. None of those were part of the original layout of Grandview Estate.
“Those are guest cabins,” Doyle answers readily. “I believe there are six in total.”
“Wow,” Raj reacts. “Guess the owner entertains a lot.”
“I’m not sure but I would assume so.”
I make a mental note of the cabins’ location. It might be worth sending up a drone later. Or, even better, if Janey found a covert route onto the property, she might be able to use that to get in under cover of night, and set up some minicams so we can monitor traffic in and around those cabins.
The agent leads us around the side of the stables, to show us an entire row of outside stalls.
“These are for the trail horses,” he explains, when Raj walks up to one of the half doors and pokes her head inside. “They’re out in the field right now.”
Raj turns around and leans her back against the stall door.
“I meant to ask you; will I have a chance to meet the owner? I think I just missed him last week at the auction. You did say he was there, right?”
I notice Doyle’s eyes darting to the front of the stables.
“He briefly popped in, yes,” he confirms. “Unfortunately, I think he’s out of town. I haven’t seen him this morning.”
“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tells him with a regretful smile. “Maybe I’ll have another opportunity.”
Damn. I would’ve loved a chance to face that sick bastard.
We head back to where Brian Haley is keeping an eye on the horse being exercised on a lunge line inside the corral.
“That’s enough, Derrick,” he calls out at the young guy in the ring. “Take him inside.”
Then he turns to us.
“Didn’t you have a vet coming?”
I glance at my watch, it’s after ten already.
“Yeah. Let me see what’s keeping him.”
Taking my phone from my pocket, I turn my back and walk a few feet away. When I look at my screen, I see he left me a message.
“It looks like he’s stuck behind an accident,” I announce when I rejoin the group. “He’ll get here as soon as he can.”
“That’s unfortunate, but these things can happen,” the slimy agent volunteers. “Ms. Baqri, could I offer you some refreshments at the lodge while we wait?”
Raj throws me a look and then turns a smile to Doyle.
“That would be lovely.”
The agent leads the way and I’m about to follow when Haley calls my name.
“How about you and I use the time to get Moon acquainted with that pony you brought? We can introduce them in the paddock.”
I catch sight of Rajani, who is already halfway to the lodge. I’m not sure how I feel about her going in there alone, but it doesn’t seem I have much choice.
“Sounds good,” I tell Haley. “I’ll go grab him.”
Buck doesn’t give me any trouble and backs right out of the trailer. He seems glad to be out and I walk him over to a trough of water on the side of the barn to let him have a drink.
He lifts his head when Haley walks out with the spirited Arion’s Moon on the lead. I wait until the trainer releases the filly in the corral before I walk the Paint over to the enclosure. Moon neighs softly when she notices Buck standing near the gate. Her nostrils flare and her ears are on alert, pointed forward, and her tail is held high. The only thing moving on her body is an occasional twitch of a muscle on her flank.
Buck bobs his head a few times before stretching out his neck over the railing.
“Let her come to him,” Haley suggests.
That’s what I thought I was doing, but I’m not getting into a pissing match with a guy who’s supposed to know me. I just wish the horse would get on with it. I’d like to go find out where Raj disappeared to.
Finally, the filly lowers her head and stretches her own neck, sniffing the air. When Buck snorts softly, Moon takes a step closer, and then another and another, until they’re nose to nose.
“Why don’t you let him in.”
I unclip the lead from Buck’s halter as Haley lifts the latch of the gate. When he carefully moves it back enough, I let Buck into the enclosure. At first the filly seems agitated, but when the Paint calmly begins to walk the inside perimeter, she eventually falls into step with him.
“They’re fine,” he states.
Then he grabs an armful of hay from a wheelbarrow on the side of the corral and tosses it inside. In no time both horses are side by side, munching away.
“I think Moon will do better with the vet if we leave him in here.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Come,” he says, lightly slapping my shoulder. “Let’s join them inside for a cup of coffee. You don’t want to leave any woman alone with Doyle too long. He’s a weird guy.”
I turn on my heel and start marching toward the lodge, Haley keeps up.
“So, you’ve had enough of Canada? I thought you went and married a Canadian?”
“We’re no longer together. She had a hard time dealing with this.”
I indicate my face and silently apologize profusely to Hamish’s wife.
The woman is as close to a saint as you can get. There’s no way she would leave her husband, who’s been wheelchair-bound since the fire. Something he didn’t want to advertise. Of course that worked out for me.
The only burns Hamish has are on his butt and legs. A fire had broken out in the hayloft, and he was getting the horses out of the stable when a burning beam came down and landed on his lumbar spine, pinning him to the ground. A couple of guys got the beam off him and dragged him out of the barn, but the damage to his spine was already done.
“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s harsh.”
“You’re telling me.”
He opens the door for me and leads me through the massive foyer, past the open door of a kitchen, to a living room at the rear of the lodge with views of Cumberland Lake. I was right, the view is even better from here.
Oliver Doyle is standing outside on the large patio, a phone to his ear.
Rajani is nowhere to be seen.
Onyx
I feel I need a shower.
I sat through twenty minutes of Oliver Doyle self-important babble. It’s clear he’s looking to score a new client, making sure I understand he will represent clients both in the sale and purchase of horses.
The entire time I had difficulty keeping my attention on him, my mind kept on drifting to Hamish, and the fact he never mentioned knowing Brian Haley. He’d actually looked rattled when Haley mentioned his name. I’m not quite sure what is going on, but it’ll have to wait until we leave and I can ask him what that was about.
I had to get my focus back where it belonged, and tried getting more information on Ackers. The only thing I managed to get out of the agent was Ackers apparently does not have a family and lives here alone.
When his phone rang, I jumped at the opportunity. He apologized and told me he had to take it, and I quickly asked directions to the bathroom. Already distracted by the call, he waved in the general direction of the hallway as he stepped out on the back patio.
Seeing as he only gave me a general direction, I feel I have an excuse to check behind a few closed doors. I’ve seen at least three of those on the right side of the foyer. One is a set of French doors to what looks to be a library, but the other two are regular doors.
Behind the central staircase there’s a hallway going in each direction. The living room and kitchen are at the rear, a formal dining room right across the hall, all on the left side of the house. I have no idea what rooms are to the right.
My guess would be the powder room is behind one of the doors in the foyer, so I save that for last. Instead, I move down the long hallway to the other side of the house.
My first stop is a pair of French doors to my left. They open up into some type of conservatory with glass walls and roof, letting in bright sunlight. I can’t see the entire width of the room so, after checking both sides of the hallway, I carefully open a door and poke my head inside. Despite the modern steel and leather furniture, the room has a tropical feel, with large-leafed plants softening the overall look. Nothing that tells me more about the lodge’s owner.
I ease the door shut and move on to the next one, revealing dark wood paneling on the walls and a large pool table under a pair of drop lights in the center of the room. I close that door too.
This brings me to the double doors at the end of the hall. My guess would be this is a study. I’d love to have a peek inside, but the problem is, if someone sees me, I can hardly claim to be looking for a powder room behind a set of double doors. Regretfully, I have to give them a pass.
Two more doors left, one appears to be a supply closet, and I’m just opening the second door when I hear a voice in the foyer, followed by footsteps and the closing of a door. Panicked, I duck into the pitch-black room and pull the door almost shut. Only a narrow crack remains and I can just see the French doors through the opening, but nothing beyond that.
The scent of laundry detergent indicates I’m likely hiding in the laundry room, and I hope to God no one is looking to run a load. To my relief, I can hear the footsteps heading the opposite way, and wait for a minute before slipping back into the hallway.
My heart is racing and I’m hyperalert as I make my way to the foyer. At this point I actually do need the bathroom.
The first door I encounter opens up to a stairway to a basement. A faint red glow can be seen at the bottom and I quickly close it again.
Only one door left, and I quickly duck into the powder room.
I take my time using the facilities to give my heart a chance to get back in a normal rhythm. I check my face in the ornate mirror and a flush of color still stains my cheeks, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
I’m about to step out of the bathroom when I hear a set of footsteps walking down the hallway. I wait a moment until they fade, and step into the foyer. I’m about to round the back of the stairway when I hear voices from the far end of the hallway on the right.
When I recognize Wheeler’s—or Morton Ackers’s—voice, I stop in my tracks and listen.
“…the hell do you mean?”
“I don’t think he’s who he says he is.”
That’s the trainer speaking, and I know instantly who he’s talking about.
“Why is that?”
I clearly hear the click of a door closing and I peek around the corner to confirm no one is in the hallway anymore. Then I dart around the staircase and rush down the hallway to the living room.
The first person I see walking in is Hamish.
Or whoever he is.