CHAPTER 9

Orlando poured grain into two feed tubs and set them in the fillies’ stalls. As the taller of the two fillies, Imparable, dug into her breakfast, I removed her water bucket, rinsed it out and refilled it to the brim. I stared into the swirling water and blinked suddenly. For a moment, I’d swear the glimmering eye of the sea horse appeared beneath the surface.

“Nikki, you spill water!” Orlando said, giving me an odd look.

“Sorry.” Before I could shut the hose off, water splashed over the rim, down the front of my jeans and eddied in the dirt at my feet. I took a breath. Stop thinking about the dead girl. At least Currito hadn’t stayed around for my water bucket performance.

I looked at Orlando. “What does La Bruja mean?” I asked.

“La Bruja. It mean the witch.”

“Oh.” I glanced over at Diablo, who glowered at me from his stall. How nice. A witch and a devil, just what every barn needs.

Impatient for breakfast, Diablo pawed at his straw bedding, stirring dust into the air.

“I’ll get to you in a minute.”

I stared at the rubber pan still lying in the straw at his feet. How would I remove it? When a brilliant plan failed to materialize, I focused on our equipment problem. Our tack wouldn’t arrive until the two Maryland horses shipped in the next day, but we had to ride these horses today.

“Do you think you could borrow a couple of saddles and bridles?” I asked Orlando.

“Is just for today?”

I nodded.

“Sí, my friend will help.” Orlando grinned, then trotted down the dirt aisle and across the pavement separating us from the barn next door. He disappeared inside the building.

Sighing, I glanced up and down our shedrow. The two fillies had their heads out, taking in the view while they ate. The mingled scents of grain, hay, and manure hung in the morning air. On the far side of our barn, someone played salsa music and sang along off key. I reached up and combed through Imparable’s forelock with my fingers.

“I can hardly wait to get you two ladies out for training,” I told her. “But first, I gotta deal with your buddy Diablo. You think the all-purpose rake will work?”

When Imparable responded with a silent, inquisitive stare, I grabbed the rake from an overhead hook and knelt in the dirt outside Diablo’s stall. I stole an uneasy glance up at the colt.

I’d assumed he was a dark bay, but a bay’s black lower legs always give way to some shade of brown in the body. Not this colt. Black as night, and not a white spot on him, either. Unusual in a Thoroughbred.

Diablo lowered his head, studying me as if curious to see what I’d do next.

“I’m winging it,” I said.

Sliding the rake into the stall, I hooked the pan’s lip. As soon as the feed pan moved, Diablo grabbed the side with his teeth and pulled back.

“Let go!”

Diablo shook his head, bared those big yellow teeth, and bit deeper into the rubber.

Hopeless. Maybe bait would work. I yanked the rake out and went into the feed room. A bunch of carrots lay on a metal table. Grabbing them, I hurried to Diablo’s stall. Staying as far back as possible, I stretched my arm forward and offered him one. The black nostrils widened and narrowed as he sniffed. His lips, reminding me of rubbery fingers, worked the carrot into his mouth. When it disappeared, he flicked his ears toward me, and he gave me an expectant look.

“You want more? Here,” I said, tossing three carrots into the far corner.

He snorted as they sailed past, but turned to follow them, moving into the corner.

Squatting, I grabbed the rake, hooked the tub, and whipped it out. Faster than a horse that size had any right to move, Diablo whirled and rammed the gate with his chest. The impact shook the barn walls, and a pitchfork fell to the ground from its hook. Somehow the stall gate held, and the pitchfork missed me, but I landed on my butt with the tub on my stomach.

Jesus! That was close.

I heard the jingle of metal and looked up. Orlando, lugging two saddles, bridles, and a couple of different sized girths, stopped and frowned.

“Why you sit? You hurt?”

I gritted my teeth. “No.”

“Wha’ happen?” he asked his glance shifting to Diablo, the beginnings of a smile lifting his moustache.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

As I stood up and dusted my seat off, Orlando’s smile grew.

“Shouldn’t you be adjusting some of that tack to fit Diablo?” I asked. Before he could answer, I marched into the feed room, grabbed my phone and called the woman named Klaire.

A soft, breathy voice answered.

“I know who you are,” she said. “Let me give you a different number to use.”

“But I’m—”

“This line is not secure! Use this number.”

She read off a string of numbers, asked me to repeat them back. As soon as I did, the line went dead. This was ridiculous. But I punched in the new number.

“Nikki,” she said, answering the first ring. “It is important we meet. I spoke to Mello. He wants me to offer you my services.”

Her services? I exhaled slowly and stretched out my one-word reply. “Okay.”

I waited, hoping she’d fill in the silence, but she didn’t.

“These services Mello thinks I need,” I said. “What would those be, exactly?”

“Even on this line, it is not safe. You must come see me.”

“This is crazy!” I said. “I want to know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me.” Her voice slowed, then changed to an eerie whisper. “Did you touch the sea horse?”

I almost dropped my phone. “How do you know about that?”

“Will you come?”

“Yes,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Where are you?”

I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and my hand shook as I wrote down directions.