25. Delilah
— ? —
Delilah
The arena looks different in daylight.
Smaller somehow. Less terrifying. Just dirt and barriers and the ghost of what happened here. The memories are still present - I can feel them pressing against the edges of my consciousness - but they’re muted now. Manageable.
Lucas walks beside me as we approach the spot where Stella fell. My leg protests the uneven ground, but I ignore it. Some things matter more than pain.
“It was here.” I stop, looking at the ground. “Right here.”
The debris has been cleared, of course. Weeks of use have churned the dirt, erased the evidence. But I remember exactly where it was. Exactly how it felt when Stella’s hoof caught and the world flipped upside down.
“The footage showed someone coming from behind the barriers.” Lucas points to the shadowed area near the equipment storage. “Over there.”
We walk to the spot. It’s secluded - hidden from the main viewing areas, from the stands, from anywhere spectators might look. But there’s a clear line of sight to the track. Someone standing here could watch the entire run. Could time their sabotage perfectly.
“She would have had to wait until right before my run,” I say, thinking it through. “Place the debris, then disappear.”
“She knew the schedule. Knew the route.” Lucas’s voice is hard. “She knew everything.”
Because I told her. Because I trusted her. Because I was so desperate for a friend, for someone who understood the life, that I handed her all the information she needed to destroy me.
I crouch down, examining the ground. Nothing but dirt. Nothing but-
“Wait.”
Something glints in the corner, half-buried in the dust. I reach for it, brushing dirt away.
A hair tie. Small, black, tangled with a few strands of auburn hair. The expensive kind, the silk-wrapped ones Aimie always used - I’d seen them on her wrist every single day.
My breath catches.
“That’s hers.” My voice shakes. “That’s Aimie’s. She uses those silk ties - she buys them in bulk. I’ve seen them everywhere.”
Lucas takes it from my hand, turning it over in his palm. The auburn strands catch the light.
“This puts her at the scene,” he says.
“It’s not enough on its own. A hair tie could have blown here from anywhere.” I push myself back to standing, frustration burning in my chest. “We need more. Something that proves intent. Something that proves-”
That’s when I see it.
A truck, parked at the far end of the lot. Familiar. Too familiar.
“Lucas.” I grab his arm. “That’s Aimie’s truck.”
He stills. “What the hell is she doing here? I fired her days ago.”
“Maybe she left it behind. Maybe-”
But then a figure emerges from the vehicle. Not Aimie - a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, carrying a toolbox. He walks toward the equipment shed with the easy familiarity of someone who belongs here.
“That’s Jimmy,” I say slowly. “From maintenance. He’s been with us for years.”
Jimmy. I know him - middle-aged, quiet, competent. He’s fixed the stable doors, repaired the arena fencing, handled a hundred small tasks around the ranch. I’ve never thought twice about him.
But now I’m thinking.
Jimmy disappears into the equipment shed. A few minutes later, he comes out. Without the toolbox.
“What was he doing in there?”
“I don’t know.” Lucas’s voice has gone cold, calculating. “But I’m going to find out.”
We exchange a glance. The same thought occurring to both of us simultaneously.
The second figure on the footage. Broad shoulders. Male build.
“You think-”
“I don’t know what I think.” Lucas cuts me off. “But that shed has security cameras too. And I’m going to check every second of footage until we figure out what the hell is going on.”
The investigation just got more complicated. But somewhere in my gut, I know we’re getting closer.
The truth is out there. And we’re going to find it.