CHAPTER 14

Tonya felt better after a nap and the pain pill. She and Royce sat at the table eating the remains of Lexi’s lasagna.

“That little gal can sure cook, can’t she?” Royce said as devoured his second helping.

“Uh-huh,” Tonya answered unenthusiastically.

She thought about Lexi’s little hot plate in the stall she called home and wondered where she had learned to cook. Henry was curled up in Tonya’s lap, looking none the worse for his ordeal. She marveled at his ability to forget and move on in his little feline world as though nothing had happened, while she was still overwhelmed with sadness and an intense desire to get away from her world and just find a place to hide.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Royce opened the door, and Mr. Jeffers came in. “Thanks for coming, Alton,” her father said.

“Evening, Royce. Tonya. Terrible thing to happen. Just terrible. For someone to break in and do that to a cat. What’s the world coming to?” He spotted Henry in Tonya’s lap and reached out to pet him. “Oh, is this the kitty?” Henry hissed and shrank from his hand, his eyes wide and his ears back. Then he jumped down and scurried into the bedroom.

“Sorry, Alton,” Royce apologized.” He’s never acted like that with strangers before. I guess he’s still traumatized.”

“No problem. He has every right to be scared. Poor thing.”

Tonya stared at Jeffers. Why had Henry acted that way toward him? Was it really just shock? Cats had pretty good memories, especially for something traumatic. Could it have been Jeffers who broke in and attacked her cat? No. What possible reason could he have? She and Royce had a good relationship with him, and he seemed genuinely concerned about the break-in.

“Now, Royce, you need to think about taking security measures.”

“Like what?”

“Well, start with a padlock on the door. Leave the lights on when there’s no one home. Have you thought about maybe some kind of alarm system?”

“That’s a little drastic, isn’t it?” Royce said doubtfully.

“I don’t think so. There’s been something fishy going on in Denmark. Some kind of sicko out there.”

Tonya wished Alana was there to enjoy the latest from Captain Metaphor.

“You don’t think this is connected to the murders, do you?” Royce asked, incredulous.

“No. Those two were drug-related. I don’t know what an attack on a cat would have to do with it.” Jeffers thought a moment. “Although now that you mention it, when people are under the influence of drugs, they do all kinds of weird things. Maybe someone broke in, looking for something to pawn to buy drugs and when they didn’t find anything, they freaked out and took it out on the cat.”

Tonya cleared her throat. “Alana told me Billy O’Casey smoked weed when he could afford it. Could he have broken in looking for drug money?”

“Hmm. That’s a thought. I know the police have questioned him about Carlos. Maybe they ought to look into him again. Anyway, the board is convening tomorrow night, and I’m going to insist we hire a couple more security guards to patrol at night. I’m having to do it myself some nights. As if I don’t have enough to do. And, damn it, they’re going to approve those extra cameras if I have to keep them there all night until they do!”

“I hope you can convince them. Good luck,” Royce said.

“This is one reason I’m hoping to be made director of racing. I’ll have so much more power then. And everyone will benefit.”

“You’re a shoo-in, Alton. You’re next in line, for sure.”

“Thanks. Well, I’ll be going now.” He turned to Tonya. “Are you recovering from your fall, young lady?”

“I guess.”

“Well, we hope to see you riding again soon. Goodnight now.”

“Night, Alton,” Royce said, ushering him to the door.

***

The next morning, Tonya lingered in bed until long after Royce had left for the barn. It was only because the cats made it impossible to put off feeding them any longer that she got up and put on a bathrobe. They followed her out into the kitchen, meowing and rubbing on her legs. As she prepared their breakfast, Clive jumped up on the counter and stared at her reproachfully as if to say, “Why are you still here?”

She sat at the table and stared indifferently out the window. The jar of carrots by the door was a reminder that she should be up and well into the day’s routine, but she didn’t care. Henry finished his breakfast and crawled into her lap for some love. She obliged by scratching his head.

The pain in her shoulder and knee was less this morning, so she had no need for more pain meds. But her mind was hazy and a general malaise had settled over her. The events of the last twenty-four hours tried to intrude on her thoughts, but she pushed them away. She simply didn’t want to think about anything disturbing or evil. She remembered hearing once that pushing unpleasant things into your subconscious was like putting them in a freezer, only to have them come out eventually as fresh and raw as ever. She put that idea out of her mind, too.

As she gazed at the parking lot outside the window, she was surprised to see Royce and Adam Abarca heading for the trailer. She didn’t bother getting up and really didn’t care if Adam saw her in her bathrobe, her hair a mess, and sleep in her eyes. But as soon as Royce opened the door, she knew something was wrong. His expression sent a shock wave through her, and she was instantly on guard.

“What is it?” she said, looking back and forth between him and Adam.

Royce sat next to her and held her hand, an inexpressible sadness in his eyes. Adam stayed at the door. “It’s Alana,” Royce said softly. “She’s dead. Somebody killed her.”

“No! Oh, Dad, no!” Tonya cried.

She stared wildly at him then at Adam, begging with her eyes for it not to be true. Then the shock and numbness burst. Royce held her tightly to his chest while she sobbed and clutched his arm. This couldn’t be happening. It was like experiencing the nightmare of falling in the race, a feeling of utter helplessness and horror. But there was no waking from this one, and Tonya knew life would never be the same.

“Why? Why?” she sobbed, looking at Adam.

His basset-hound eyes were sadder than ever as he just shook his head. “We don’t know yet. She was found early this morning near her car. Someone may have attacked her last night as she was leaving.”

“How?” Tonya sobbed.

“Strangled. Just like the others.”

Alana! Sweet, funny, kind Alana. Dead. Something suddenly snapped deep inside Tonya and she was overwhelmed with rage. She stood up, face to face with the young policeman, and began shouting. All the malaise of the previous week seemed to morph into an uncontrollable outrage, a desperate need for answers, and a desire for revenge. And it all poured out on Adam.

“You’re not going to try to tell me this is drug-related, are you?” she accused angrily through her tears.

Royce wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the chair again. “Take it easy, sweetheart. They will find whoever’s doing this.”

She remained in his arms and sobbed until no more tears would come.

Adam cleared his throat. “The lieutenant wants to question everyone right away. All the backstretch workers are to meet him in the track kitchen in one hour. He especially wants to talk to you, Tonya, because you knew her best.”

Tonya stood up, wiped the sleeve of her robe across her face, and straightened her shoulders. “We’ll be there,” she said and went to get dressed.

In her room, she pulled on her jeans, boots, and T-shirt, brushing her hair with fast, hard, angry strokes. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail, tying it tightly with a rubber band. Then she went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her tear-stained face as she leaned over the sink. When she raised her head and regarded her image in the mirror, there was a steely glint in her eyes. All the sorrow and fear of the morning seemed to harden into a fierce determination. Whoever this monster was who was prowling the backstretch--her backstretch, her home--he had made it personal. Her father’s groom, her cat, and now her best friend. With the police or without them, she was going to find him and stop him. “Whatever it takes,” she declared to her reflection. “Whatever it takes.”

The tiny track kitchen was overflowing when Royce and Tonya walked in an hour later. Used by the backstretch workers for coffee breaks and lunches, it contained only the bare necessities, appropriate for a small track barely scraping by financially. Seated at the ugly Formica tables and metal chairs were grooms, trainers, riders, and stewards. The air was heavy with summer humidity and uncertainty.

Tonya and Royce joined Luis and several others standing along the walls. Royce nodded to Russ Danville and Graham Lynde who were talking quietly, their heads together. Tonya stood by her father, studying the faces and expressions of each person there. Someone in this room, she thought, is a killer. Someone here killed Alana. It was inconceivable. She spotted Chris sitting with some other jockeys, his face red and blotchy. Her heart ached for him.

Lieutenant Kubisky and Sergeant Abarca were seated together at the front of the room. Adam’s eyes followed the Callahans as they took a place near the wall.

Kubisky stood up and cleared his throat. “Attention please. Now you all know why we’re here. A girl...” He consulted his tattered notebook. “...uh, Alana Symonds...was found dead in the parking lot this morning. Now until we get a coroner’s report, we won’t know exactly when she died, but we think it was sometime last night. She was apparently getting into her car when she was attacked. The door was still open. Her purse was found next to her with money and credit cards still in it, so we are ruling out robbery as the motive. What we want from each of you is to know where you were last night, how well you knew this girl, and whether any of you saw anything last night, anything out of the ordinary. We are going to question each of you individually, so you may be here for a while.”

A collective groan went up from the group.

Several hours out of a morning on the backstretch could wreck everyone’s schedule. Horses’ training and feeding schedules would be interrupted, and that could possibly mean lost racing income down the road.

Kubisky ignored the murmuring. “Now, we’d like everyone to remain here while we do the interviews in there,” he said, pointing to the little room off to the side. “We’ll call you one at a time. Nobody leaves without permission. The coffee urn is full, so help yourself. Mr. Jeffers says coffee is on the house today.” Kubisky nodded to Tonya. “You’re up first, Miss Callahan,” he said and gestured toward the side room. “After you.”

Royce leaned over to her and whispered, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s okay, Dad. I’ll be fine.”

In the interview room, Tonya sat at a tiny table with the two policemen, dwarfed by Kubisky’s bulk and Adam’s height.

The detective started by saying he was sorry for the loss of Tonya’s friend. She thanked him.

“Now, Tonya, we want to know everything you can tell us about Alana. Her parents are here, but as you can imagine, they’re not much help at the moment. Besides, we need to know what she was like here at work, who she hung out with, who she had any beefs with, that sort of thing. Got it?”

Tonya related all the information she could think of about Alana, how she had dropped out of high school and got a job working on the backstretch, first as hot walker, then exercise girl, then apprentice jockey, and this year, licensed jockey. The backstretch was her home, the people there her family. Not that she had ever hinted of being abused at home, more like she was ignored by the rest of the family since they knew nothing about horses and didn’t understand her. She was an excellent hand with horses and had a good reputation with trainers, at least the ones who used girl jockeys. She won her share of races on horses that were traditional losers. Trainers were starting to give her more opportunities to ride for them, but, as with all girl jockeys, it was an uphill battle.

“What about boyfriends?” Adam asked.

“She and Chris Sommers were together, I know.”

Kubisky made a note. “Was it serious?”

“I think so. Then there was Billy O’Casey. She dated him for a while but he got too possessive, and she stayed away from him. I don’t think he liked it.” Tonya couldn’t decide whether to tell him Alana’s suspicion that Billy intentionally caused the gate accident. She let it go.

“Now about this prowler. Could someone have been stalking her? Someone who knew she was at your place?”

“I guess so.”

“Did she think she knew who it was?”

“I don’t know.” Again the thought of the possessive, bad-tempered Billy crossed her mind. Where was he last night?

Adam handed the lieutenant a sheet of paper.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Kubisky asked. “We found it by her--at the scene.”

He slid the paper in front of her. It was the entries for today’s sixth race. Scanning down the sheet, she saw that the last entry was circled.

Post position 10: Lightweight Girl, 4 y/o mare by Weighted Down, out of Girl O’ My Dreams. Owner: Lone Star Stables. Jockey: Mike Torres, weight 121 lbs. Trainer: Allen Moreau. Morning Line odds: 8-1.

Tonya was shocked. Another one? And this was the second circled entry to be ridden by Mike. That had to mean something.

She handed it back. “No, it doesn’t mean anything to me. No more than the other two,” she said a little spitefully, remembering Kubisky brushing her off when she brought the first one to the station. “Could it be important?” she added with just a hint of sarcasm.

“That’s what we’d like to know,” he replied. He took the sheet from her and folded it. “But we’ll be here this afternoon for this race. That’s all. Send your father in, will you?”

Tonya stood up. Her eyes met Adam’s. He gave her a small smile and opened the door for her. But before she left, she opened the room’s single window. “Stuffy in here.”

After motioning to her father that he was next, she left the building, tiptoed around to the window she had just opened, and sank quietly down on the dirt where she could hear all the interviews.

She was especially interested in hearing what Billy O’Casey had to say. She had no idea how the two cops would feel about her eavesdropping and she didn’t care. She had no faith in this prejudiced, lethargic cop who was just hanging on until retirement. If possible, she would enlist Adam’s help but, with it or without it, she was going to find the maniac who killed her best friend.

Royce was being interviewed. He knew Alana as Tonya’s friend and one of his exercise riders. No, he didn’t use her as a jockey. No, it was nothing personal against her. He just doesn’t use girl jockeys. Yes, he knew from his daughter that Alana had been harassed by the gate attendant and he’d overheard them arguing at the starting gate the day of the accident. No, he didn’t hear what they were saying.

“Is it normal for there to be arguments at the gate?”

“Not normal, but not unusual either. The gate is a stressful place. For both horses and riders. There was a dust-up just last week in the gate, involving the girls, but Billy wasn’t there that day.”

“What was that about?”

“Oh, it was just one of the jocks being impatient with Alana and Tonya.”

“Who was that?”

“Mike Torres. But I’m sure it was nothing.” Royce seemed to realize he had put Mike in a bad light. “Mike is a good guy. He saved our cat’s life yesterday. Someone broke into our trailer and put a wire around the cat’s neck.”

“Yes. We know about that. You made a report to Sergeant Abarca,” he said, shuffling papers again. Kubisky dismissed him and asked him to send Luis in. Tonya waited, hoping the cop would treat Luis with respect.

After the usual questions to Luis about his whereabouts, Kubisky said, “Now, Mendes, what was this girl’s connection with the groom?” He consulted his notes. “This, uh...Alfie Gomez.”

“They both worked for Señor Royce.”

“Did Gomez ever talk to you about the girl?”

“No.”

“You two were supposed to be pretty good amigos. What did you talk about?”

“We talked about the work. The horses.”

Tonya wondered why Luis was being so evasive. She knew he and Alfie had been close.

Kubisky paused for a moment, and Tonya wondered what he was doing. “Refusing to cooperate with the police is a serious matter in this country. Do you know that?”

“I am familiar with my country’s laws,” Luis said.

Kubisky snorted. “Silencio, eh? All right, you can go. Abarca, find Chris Sommers and bring him in.”

Tonya’s heart ached for Chris having to be questioned by this hard, pitiless cop when he was torn up over Alana. In a few moments, she heard Chris come in.

“Sit down, Sommers. I understand you and the girl who was killed were close. How close?”

“I loved her,” Chris said softly.

Tonya was surprised to hear that. They hadn’t been dating that long.

“Where were you last night?”

“At home. In my apartment.”

“What time did you get home?”

“I finished with my races about six o’clock. Hung around the barns for a while. Stopped for a burger on my way. Got home around seven-thirty.”

“Then what?”

“Watched a little TV and went to bed.”

“You didn’t see Alana last night? Not much social life for a young guy.” Kubisky sounded skeptical.

“I get up at four a.m. So does she. We see each other mainly here.” Tonya heard him hesitate. “I mean we did.”

Tonya felt a lump in her throat. She wasn’t the only one who was hurting. Poor Chris.

Kubisky was rustling papers again. “Now about this accident she had at the starting gate. What did she tell you about it?”

“She said she suspected Billy O’Casey intentionally caused her filly to rear. She said he seemed to be doing everything the opposite of what he should be doing.”

“How so?”

“When a horse is backing up, you don’t pull on the bridle. You try to push him forward from behind. O’Casey knows that. She told him to let the horse’s head go, but he kept trying to drag her forward. That’s when it happened.”

“Why did she think O’Casey would do that?” Kubisky asked.

“Because she dumped him when we got together. He didn’t like it.”

“And you think that was enough for him to try to kill her? Come on.”

“I didn’t say that. Certainly enough to cause a problem in the gate. All I know is that he has a bad temper, and he’s a player.”

“He bets on the horses?”

“Well, that too, but I mean with women.” Chris’s voice hardened. “Thinks he’s quite the lover boy. Alana was a little afraid of him, I think.”

“Did she say anything about the prowler that was outside the Callahans’ trailer that night?”

“She told me what happened. That’s all.”

“Did she think it was O’Casey?”

“She suspected him, yes. But she didn’t know who it was. She said there were going to be some cameras put up in the parking lot. Mr. Jeffers visited the Callahans yesterday afternoon. Maybe he was giving them some news about that.”

“You mean last evening.”

“No. Yesterday around noon. I was getting in my car to go get some lunch. That’s when I saw him.”

“Are you sure it was Jeffers?”

Chris hesitated. “No. I’m not sure. It looked like him. I guess it could have been someone else.”

“How well did you know Callahan’s groom, Alfie?”

“Only to say hello to. Seemed a nice guy. Very quiet.”

“What about the drug dealer, Carlos?”

“I never saw him. At least if I did, I didn’t know who he was. Can I go now, Lieutenant? I’d like to see Alana’s parents before they leave.”

Tonya glanced toward the parking lot where the police cars and ambulance were parked. Near the yellow tape stood a couple who seemed out of place at the track. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders and she held a wad of tissues up to her face. Tonya wanted to go to them and tell them what a wonderful person their daughter was, but she needed to hear these interviews if she was going to help catch her killer. That was the best way to honor Alana’s memory. Besides, Chris needed some time alone with them.

Tonya heard the door of the kitchen close and watched Chris walk toward the terrible scene. Her heart ached for him and for the couple who would never hug their daughter again.

She thought about her own father and how he worried about her getting hurt. It must be unbearable to lose a child. She promised herself she would hug her dad every day from now on.

She shifted her position on the hard ground and settled in to listen to the rest of the interviews. She only wished she had brought a pen and notebook.