Chapter 26
Emma grabbed a currycomb and thick brush and let herself into Harley’s stall.
“Hey, boy.” She stroked the big horse’s neck as he sniffed at her pockets, looking for a treat.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring you anything. Next time.
” She ran a hand along his back, noticing his visible and bumpy spine.
Harley had already been an old horse when Emma was younger and first rode him, so now he was very old.
She massaged circles on his neck with the currycomb and then ran the thick brush over the area to remove the loosened hair and dust. He was already shedding his winter coat, even though it’d been less than thirty degrees today.
On her way to the barn, Emma had seen her breath hang in the air, and outside it smelled of snow, that crisp, cold, clean scent.
There was no snow to be seen, but Emma knew it would come soon.
Finished with his neck, she moved on to his shoulder.
Harley stood perfectly still, his eyes half closed in pleasure from the grooming.
Emma relaxed, enjoying the mindless repetition of the motions.
Spending time with the horse always brought a calm to her heart and head.
Harley was a good listener too. She could tell him anything.
He knew all about the kids who’d bullied her at school, how much she missed her mom, and how she hoped her dad would never return.
Is he dead?
Half of her hoped he was; the other half was racked with guilt because of that hope.
Tommy had promised to ask around about her father but so far had no updates for her. He hadn’t seemed overly concerned once he’d calmed down after hearing he’d been gone for four months, so Emma simply went on as she had been. Waiting and hoping and feeling guilty.
Telling someone else that he was missing had made her feel a bit better. A very tiny bit.
At the front of the barn, the door creaked and then was shoved to the side with a long, low scraping sound. She couldn’t see who’d entered because of the high walls in Harley’s stall, but she expected to hear Tommy’s voice.
“You’re reckless,” Tommy said loudly from the back of the barn. “Completely out of control!”
Emma froze, listening hard.
“Fuck you, old man. You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a new world.”
Emma bent over and inched into a front corner of Harley’s stall, where no one could see her unless they stuck their head over the stall’s half door. She didn’t want Tommy to know she was overhearing an angry conversation.
“Sloppy,” hissed Tommy. “You’re going to blow it up before you even get started.”
“It’s already started, thanks to me. All you do is talk. We needed action.”
“Your action is raising questions with law enforcement. They’re going to look long and hard at everyone.”
“So what? Cops can’t prove nothing.”
“I think you’ve gotten too personal,” said Tommy. “You’ve made it all about you and what you want.”
“Nothing wrong with that. It’ll all come together soon.”
Their footsteps came closer, and Emma huddled into a tight ball, trying to disappear into the shadows. Harley shuffled forward and thrust his head over his stall door.
Good boy.
“How you doin’, Harley?” Tommy asked.
The footsteps stopped, and Emma sensed that Tommy was scratching the horse’s head.
Don’t look in the stall.
“Fucking horses, man,” said the other voice. “All they do is eat and shit.”
“You don’t do anything different,” snapped Tommy.
The footsteps started again, moving past the stall. “You need to slow the fuck down,” said Tommy. “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking with the judge’s car.”
“I killed two birds with one stone.” The other man laughed. “Catch that? Didn’t plan to say it that way. Just came out.” He snorted. “The judge deserved the fear of God put in him.”
“And Chisholm?”
“He was a liability. Talked too much. Same with the other one.”
“Shee-it.” Tommy drew out the word. “No one knew you were gonna do that.”
“Someone had to do something.”
“This isn’t for you to carry out some personal vendetta,” said Tommy, his voice growing fainter as they neared the other end of the barn.
“I know what I’m doing,” said the other man. “There’s been some cleanup along the way.”
A door slammed, and Emma knew they’d gone out the back door on the west end.
Somehow Tommy hadn’t noticed her bike leaned up against the wall as they came in.
She stayed in her ball for several more minutes, still listening.
Harley turned her way and lipped her hair, blowing air—and other gunk—out of his nostrils.
“Ugh.” Emma gently pushed his nose away and got to her feet. Then returned to working on his winter coat.
What judge? Who was a liability?
She ran through the conversation in her head, wondering who had been talking with Tommy. She suspected Tommy didn’t know she had already returned from collecting cans. She’d ridden her bike and gone straight to the barn when she got back.
“You’re the best boy, Harley,” she murmured to the horse, hoping he hadn’t been insulted by the man’s comment about horses. “I’d rather hang out with you any day than some jerk like that.”
Her face flushed slightly as she remembered the jerks she’d had to avoid at school.
She didn’t miss school—or the people—one bit.
Emma glanced at her feet. She was wearing a pair of leather boots with heavy soles from the clothing the detective had dropped off.
They were a little big for her feet, but they were warmer and much nicer than her old rubber boots.
She also wore a new thick wool sweater, which was a shade of pink that made her feel as if she glowed.
She’d looked in the mirror and noticed it made her cheeks pink.
In a good way. Then she’d put her old orange coat over it, and the color in her cheeks had vanished.
She’d stood in front of the mirror for a few moments longer, opening and closing her coat, watching the color of her cheeks change each time.
Silly. They’re just clothes.
The far-off sound of an engine and tires on gravel told her the visitor had left. A moment later the noises repeated, and she realized Tommy had left too. After giving Harley one last hug and a swipe of the brush down his blaze, she stepped out of the stall and put the brushes on a small shelf.
The men’s conversation continued to repeat in her head. Tommy’s tone had been harsh. Nothing she hadn’t heard before. He tended to freely espouse all his opinions, and several times she’d heard him argue with her father. But her father usually kowtowed to Tommy. The man today had not.
Killed two birds with one stone.
She wondered what he’d done to get law enforcement attention. And who was Chisholm? And “the other one”? She left the barn, still trying to understand the conversation, and was halfway back to the house when a memory made her nearly trip.
I know that voice.
The other man had broken into her house.
“‘What I already told you. We need her,’” she whispered, remembering this voice from that night, when she’d been convinced that the two men were there to harm her.
Tommy knows him.
She covered her face with her hands. “No. Not possible. That can’t be right.” Emma sucked in a deep breath, convinced she was wrong about the voices, that her brain had made a mistake. How could she compare a man’s whispers to the voice she’d just heard?
I’m wrong.
She shook her head and continued to the house.
What if I’m right?
A little voice in her brain ordered her to pay attention, to follow her gut. “But this doesn’t mean Tommy knows he was at my house,” she muttered. “Why would the other man tell him? Besides, it didn’t sound as if the men were on the best of terms.”
Emma went inside and washed her hands at the kitchen sink, watching Harley’s brown dust and grime vanish down the drain.
I’m safe here.
She wished she had seen the other man or heard his name. Perhaps she’d met him before. If he was friends with Tommy, he might even know her dad.
That night, they knew where we hide the house key.
She let the warm water run over her fingers, chasing away the chill from outside. Tommy knew everyone in the area. Her father had often said that nothing happened in the county without Tommy knowing about it. She shook her head, still watching the water.
Tommy doesn’t know what that man tried to do.
But she didn’t know if she could tell him. What if she was wrong about the voice?
Maybe I should call Detective Marshall.