Golden Filly Collection Two (59 page)

Officer Parks chuckled obligingly. The approval that beamed from his eyes congratulated Trish on handling the situation.

She hoped with grace. She felt her mother’s hand resting on her shoulder. They’d been through a shooting together—surely they could handle a measly letter.

She could feel David fuming on her other side. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists. “I could kill him…” she heard him mutter under his breath.

She shot him a look meant to caution him, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed.

After all the questions had been asked, most of which had no really helpful answers, they all walked out to the van together. Officer Parks pulled his squad car over, insisting on escorting them all home.

“What a day.” Rhonda sighed, then yawned.

“Been enough excitement for you?” Brad opened the van door for them.

“I think so, even for me.” Rhonda climbed into the backseat. “You okay, David?”

Without answering, David spun gravel turning onto the frontage road for Janzen Beach Shopping Center. He let up on the accelerator at a look from his mother, but even though he leaned back, his shoulder propped against the window, and he drove straight-armed, not with his usual relaxed ease.

Stumbling at first, the conversation again picked up and eddied around the driver, who continued to ignore even direct questions.

“You going to give that check to Mr. Patterson on Monday or what?”

“Guess so. That was pretty neat, them voting money for Prairie.” Trish glared at the back of her brother’s head. “Don’t you think so, big bro?” She looked at Rhonda and shook her head over her brother’s obstinacy. “David, for pete’s sake, it’s not as if he shot at me or something.”

“Let him alone, Tee.” The tone of Marge’s voice brooked no argument.

Trish looked over her shoulder at Rhonda and Brad. They shrugged along with her.

Patrick sat rubbing his chin with work-worn fingers. “Give him some time, lass,” he murmured for her ears alone. “He wasn’t here for the last ones.”

Trish sighed. Patrick was right. While she’d felt fury burn through her at first, the flames had died away until only ashes remained. She couldn’t—wouldn’t stay mad like that. She’d have to let God take care of this again. He had before.

“That cute reporter, Curt Donovan, was taking notes like crazy,” Rhonda said around a huge yawn, obviously changing the subject.

“Rhonda Louise Seabolt…” Trish whipped around to shut her up but threw up her hands instead.

“Well, he is, and if I had a guy cute as that looking at me like he looks at you…”

Trish groaned. “Can’t you think of anything besides guys?”

“Sure I can, you dope, but I think David almost smiled.”

The words hissed in Trish’s ear quite effectively set Trish to sputtering. “Say good-night, Rhonda.”

“Good night, all. See you in church tomorrow, or is it today?”

When they finally drove into Runnin’ On Farm after dropping Brad off too, the area in front of the house looked like a parking lot—a full parking lot.

“What is going on?” Marge leaned back against the seat.

“Oh, no, reporters. See? That’s the Channel 3 van.” Trish pointed at a white minivan with a big orange 3 on the side. “How’d they hear about this already?”

“Curt.” David made the name sound like a curse.

“No, he wouldn’t do this to us.” But it didn’t matter how they heard. Questions and microphones, along with camcorders and eye-blinding strobe lights, met them as they stepped from the van. Before Trish had a chance to answer, Officer Parks pushed his way to the front and took Trish and Marge by the arms.

“I need to talk with these people first,” he said to the crowd. “So you can wait around or come back in the morning, which would be much more polite.”

“Right,” a sarcastic voice came from the crowd. A rumble of chuckles agreed. “Just doing our job,” said another. At every “How do you feel?” and “What will you do?” Trish just shook her head. The temptation to yell, “How do you think I feel when I get threatening letters? Like inviting the jerk out for ice cream?!”

Officer Parks pushed Marge and Trish through the crowd till they reached the steps. Trish stopped and turned while Marge unlocked the door. “Look, I’m tired. This has been a pretty big day. I’m mad clear through that—that
jerk
is starting up again, or whoever is. And I don’t know any more than that. So you might as well head home. Good night.” She obeyed the tugging on her arm and followed Marge, Officer Parks, David, and Patrick into the house.

They heard doors slamming and car engines revving almost immediately afterward.

“There go the vultures.” Parks unbuttoned his coat and drew out his little black notebook. “Trish, you handled them very well. Guess I really don’t have to run interference for you.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Marge hung up her coat. “We’d still be out there if you hadn’t. Now, how about I make some coffee?”

“Just a minute, Mrs. Evanston, if you would. I have something to tell you.”

Marge turned back and crossed her arms across her chest, as if afraid of what she was going to hear. Unconsciously, Trish did the same.

“I’m afraid it’s bad news. Kendall Highstreet was released on bail this afternoon.”

“The developer who wanted to get Portland Meadows real cheap?” David leaned forward, his teeth snapping together like a shot. “He’s crooked as they come. Doesn’t attempted murder count for more than a few weeks in jail?”

“It will when he comes to trial, but for right now, the judge agreed to bail.”

Trish felt the embers leap to life. So much for letting God handle all this.

“Now, I need all of you to go over this evening again—try to think of anything you might have missed. How could an outsider have known where you would be meeting? How about if you make that coffee and we’ll all sit down and rehash this?”

Marge nodded. “Hot chocolate anyone? I can make that too.”

This time it was Trish’s turn to nod. When she started to follow her mother, Officer Parks shook his head. “I need to talk to you first.”

While Marge served the hot drinks, they went over every detail together. But try as they might, nothing new came up. All anyone needed to do to learn about the dinner was to stand near some of the owners and eavesdrop.

“Plenty of people were talkin’ about it.” Patrick set his cup back on the coffee table. “Both by the track and at the barns. I heard ’em meself.”

They all looked up when car lights flashed through the big square-paned living room window.

“That’s probably Officer Jones now.” Parks closed his notebook. “I requested protection for you, Trish. I—after the last scene, well, I don’t think we can be too careful. She’ll be here through the night, most likely turn into your shadow.” He turned to look at Marge. “Would it be okay if she slept here on your sofa?”

“I—I guess so.” Marge stood to answer the doorbell.

Trish glanced at David sitting in her father’s recliner. The light from the lamp glinted on dark curls that had repeatedly been tangled by David’s fingers. The set of his jaw said it all. “She can have my bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

“But, David…” Trish didn’t get any further. The look he sent her could have sizzled a steak.

Chapter
03

S
he’s a cop?
Trish blinked a second time.

Long blond hair, blue eyes fringed with impossibly long lashes, a cheerleader’s smile, Officer Jones would fit in any high school in America. “Hi, my name’s Amy, like short for Amanda.” She looked like a Barbie doll next to Officer Parks.

Trish looked over at her brother. He had the sad appearance of a knocked-down bowling pin. The force of impact had slammed his chin to his chest.

“I’m Trish and this…” She swallowed a chuckle. “This is my big brother, David.” She waited for him to respond, blink, answer something. “David?” Trish glanced at her mother in time to catch an infinitesimal shrug.

“I’m Marge Evanston and this is our trainer, Patrick O’Hern.”

Trish watched David out of the corner of her eye. He sure got over mad quick. Now instead of the open-hanging-mouth look, he wore the famous Evanston smile, guaranteed to win votes. Or break hearts, as Rhonda had so often told him.

Amy smiled back at him, or rather up at him when he rose to his feet. “I hear you’re going to Tucson this year. I have a brother who got his degree at the University of Arizona last year. How do you like it there?”

“F-fine.” David swallowed, his Adam’s apple dipping below the collar of his shirt.

Trish hugged her arms across her chest. If only Rhonda were here to see this.

“Think I’ll be going now…let you all get acquainted.” Parks brought Trish back to the real issue at hand. Amy wasn’t just a friend dropping by. She was a police officer, here to guard Trish from some jerk who hated her.

Trish felt the shudders start at her feet and work their way up. Why? Who?
Why?
She stood and crossed the room, her legs feeling stiff, as if she’d locked her knees to keep upright.

“Now, if you think of anything else, you call me.” Parks looked from Trish to her mother. “And, Trish, go on about your daily life as normally as possible. Let Amy do the worrying for you. That’s what we pay her for.”

“Right. You’ll let me know if you learn anything new, won’t you?”

“Much as I can. Good night now.”

“I’ll be goin’ too. See you in the morning.” Patrick followed the tall police officer out the door.

Marge closed the door behind them and leaned her forehead against the wooden frame for only a moment before turning and beginning to gather the coffee things together.

“Where’s David?” Trish asked, setting the mugs on the tray.

“He said something about getting his sleeping bag. I have my things with me. I don’t want to put any of you out.” Amy might look like a teenager and sound like one when she wanted to, but the tone now was all adult. “I’m not here as a guest.”

Marge nodded, a polite smile barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “Let him fuss a bit. It’ll take his mind off all this.”

The two shared a woman-to-woman look that Trish recognized only because she and Rhonda used the same frequency. What fun the two of them could have over David being star struck by Amy! If only she weren’t here for such a serious reason.

Trish sighed. She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. Oh, great…a cold sore popping out. She could feel the tender spot. By tomorrow it would probably cover half her lip. She headed for the bathroom to put salve on it.

The face in the mirror looked as if it had seen a ghost. She smeared on the cream and waited for the bite of it to penetrate her skin. In the meantime she smoothed skin cleanser over her eyes and face. The water running to get warm drowned out any sounds from the living room. In here it was easy to pretend this was an ordinary night. Racing during the day. Out for dinner. Company afterward. They’d done this plenty of times. She splashed her face with hot water, then cold.

But they hadn’t had a police officer sleeping down the hall before. Would normal, whatever that was, ever return?

Trish followed the sounds of activity down the hall to David’s room. The shock stopped her in the doorway. David was changing the sheets on his bed. Trish stifled the grin that threatened to crack her face and strolled over to the bed to help tuck in the blanket ends.

“Don’t say a word.” David flipped the navy bedspread in place and tossed her a pillow along with its case. “Just put that on while I dump the rest of this in the laundry.”

“Yes, sir.” Trish did as asked and folded the spread over the wrinkle-free pillow.
So David isn’t immune to a pretty face after all.
She shook her head at her thoughts. He’d talked about a girl at WSU last fall, but that seemed three lifetimes ago. And who knew if he was seeing anyone in Tucson?

He returned with a set of matching towels and laid them across the foot of his bed. “Thanks, twerp.” He dug his sleeping bag off the shelf of his closet and turned to leave. “You coming or what?”

The tip of her tongue found the blossoming cold sore again, but this time instead of feeling as if some unknown something was picking on her, she giggled when she followed him down the hall. David could get flustered too; the red on the back of his neck told her so.

“Don’t even say a word.” She caught his muttered command just before they entered the living room.

Keeping quiet was hard. Thoughts of all the times he’d hassled her about Red fed the desire to get even. But she managed. The conversation between the four of them seemed easy, as if Amy had been a guest before, or a friend they hadn’t seen for a long time.

“Trish, if you hear or sense anything out of the ordinary, you tell me—immediately, okay?” Amy told her when they finally turned off the lights and headed down the hallway.

“I will.” Trish stopped at David’s door and pointed to the softly lit room. “You’ll sleep here. My room is right across the hall. I need to be at the track to work horses at five, so it’ll be a short night.”

“Just wake me when you get up. What’s your schedule for the rest of the day?”

“To church, back to the track, home again, and homework.” Trish paused a moment. “Oh yeah, and sometime in there we take David back to the airport.”