25. Maximillian
— ? —
Maximillian
The official is still examining the rein pieces when Felicity moves closer to Elle. For a moment my mother looks as though she wants to ask him to check again. Then she turns toward the groom, who is holding Sovrano beside us, still in his tack.
“Let me help you get him settled,” she says. “He needs to be untacked and watered.”
Elle nods, her hand still gripping mine. “Thank you. I need to stay here while they sort out the equipment.”
“Of course.” Felicity touches her arm gently. “Deus is bringing your bag. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of.”
I watch them go, the groom leading Sovrano toward the temporary stabling with Felicity walking beside them. Elle’s horse turns his head once, looking back toward us, and I see Elle’s throat move as she swallows.
“They’ll call us if anything changes,” I tell her quietly. “And we’ll have him checked again at home.”
“I know.” She doesn’t take her eyes off him until he disappears around the corner. “I just need to see him again. After.”
The official’s colleague, a woman with a clipboard, moves closer to look at what he is holding. They confer briefly over the rein pieces, then the first official turns to us.
“We’re going to need to contact the police,” he says. “This damage is consistent with deliberate interference. I’d like to preserve all the equipment until it can be properly examined.”
Elle nods. “Deus is bringing my tack bag. Everything we replaced is in the side pocket.”
“Good. In the meantime, would you mind waiting near the show office? It’s quieter there, and we’ll need to take your statements.”
We follow him along the path that runs behind the arenas, past the warm-up ring where I stood watching Elle circle earlier this morning.
The bench outside the show office is wooden and weathered, set against the building’s wall in a patch of afternoon shade.
Elle sits down heavily, and I settle beside her.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She looks at her hands, still in their riding gloves. “I keep going over it in my head. The way the rein felt when it let go. The way he tried to understand what I was asking.”
“I saw him start listening again,” I say. “You got him away from the fences.”
“After we lifted the saddle in the warm-up, it felt normal.” She pulls off her gloves and tucks them into her jacket pocket. “I nearly went through that gate without stopping again.”
“But you trusted what you felt.”
“Yes.” She looks at her empty hands, then takes mine. “I did.”
Deus arrives with her tack bag over his shoulder. He sets it down beside the bench without opening it, his expression grave.
“Felicity has him settled,” he tells Elle. “The groom is with them. He’s eating hay and seems comfortable.”
“Thank you.” Elle’s voice is steadier now. “Will you stay with him? I don’t want to leave him alone.”
“Of course.” He hesitates. “The official said there might be questions. About who had access to the equipment.”
“There will be.” I look at the bag. “The police are coming.”
Deus nods slowly, looking from the bag to Elle. He waits until she meets his eyes before he speaks again.
“I’ll be at the stall,” he says. “Come find me when you’re ready.”
After he leaves, the official returns with his colleague. They ask Elle to walk them through the morning again, from arrival to the moment she felt the stirrup shift. She answers their questions clearly, her voice flat with fatigue but her account precise.
“And you replaced both stirrup leathers before entering the ring?” the female official asks.
“Yes. From my own spare kit.”
“Who was with the horse and equipment while you walked the course?”
Elle pauses. “Our groom. She was getting him ready for me. We checked everything again before I mounted.”
“We’ll need to speak with her.”
The male official has been examining the damaged stirrup leather, which his colleague retrieved from the bag. He holds it up to the light, studying the elongated hole.
“I’ll keep these with the rein,” he says. “The examiner needs to see both failures. We shouldn’t assume they’re unrelated.”
“Yes,” I say quietly. “Keep them together.”
He sets the leather aside and makes a note on his clipboard. “The police should be here shortly. They’ll want to examine everything and take formal statements.”
Elle nods. I put my arm around her shoulders, and she leans into me without speaking.
While he makes another call, Elle tries to loosen the fastening at her throat. Her fingers slip once. I wait until she looks at me before reaching for it, easing the stiff fabric away from her skin. She catches my wrist when I finish and keeps my hand there a moment.
“Better?” I ask.
She nods. Beyond the office, someone is being called to the collecting ring. Another rider has a whole round ahead of them, and I envy them the ordinary things they have to worry about.
A security officer approaches with a laptop under his arm. He introduces himself and explains that he’s been reviewing footage from the venue’s cameras.
“We have coverage at the main entrance to the temporary stabling aisle,” he says. “Not the individual stalls, but we can see who comes and goes. I’ve found something you should look at.”
He opens the laptop and sets it on the bench beside us. The footage is grainy but clear enough, showing the aisle entrance from an elevated angle. He fast-forwards through the early morning arrivals, then slows as he approaches the timestamp I recognize.
“This is approximately the period when you and your husband were walking the course,” he tells Elle. “Watch the right side of the frame.”
A figure enters the shot, walking with confident purpose toward the stabling rows. The camera angle catches her face as she passes, and my chest tightens.
Giselle.
Elle’s hand goes rigid in mine.
“Do you recognize this person?” the security officer asks.
“Yes.” Elle’s voice is very quiet. “That’s my sister.”
The officer pauses the image. While this was happening, Elle was pacing out the approach to the third fence beside me.
“She leaves the same way about six minutes later,” he says.
“We’ve also spoken with one of the temporary staff members.” The officer closes the laptop. “She recalls a woman matching this description coming to the stabling area, claiming to be the rider’s sister. She said she was leaving something for you before your class.”
“Did she see her touch anything?” I ask.
“She saw her handling equipment outside the stall. Adjusting something on the saddle, she thought. The staff member assumed it was legitimate, given the family connection. Your groom had gone to the water point. The staff member continued down the aisle and didn’t see the woman leave.
We’re recording her account separately.”
Elle closes her eyes. I can feel her pulse racing where our hands are joined.
“She was there,” Elle says. “She was touching my things.”
“The footage places her in the area,” the official says carefully. “The witness saw her handling equipment. Combined with the damage we’ve found, there’s enough concern to involve the police. But the examination of the equipment will need to be completed before any conclusions can be drawn.”
I look at the closed laptop. An hour ago, I would have called the thought impossible. Now I can’t stop thinking about the message on Elle’s phone, the one that said everyone would be watching her fail.
“Is she still here?” Elle asks. “At the show?”
“We don’t know.” The security officer glances at his colleague. “We can ask staff to look for her, if you’d like.”
“Please.” Elle’s voice is steady. “I want to speak with her.”
The official steps away to make the request. I turn to Elle, searching her face.
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly. “The police will be here soon. You don’t have to do this yourself.”
“I need to see her.” Elle meets my eyes. “I need to hear what she says.”
I nod and stay beside her while the official sends someone to look.
A staff member returns a few minutes later. “We found her near the refreshment area. She’s agreed to come speak with you.”
Elle stands, and I stand with her. The official leads us into the show office, a small room with a desk and several chairs. His colleague remains outside with the equipment. The security officer positions himself near the door.
We wait.
When Giselle enters, she’s wearing a look of concerned confusion that might have fooled me if I hadn’t seen the video. Her coat is pale and expensive, her hair neatly styled, every inch the worried sister come to check on her family.
“Georgina.” She moves toward Elle, arms opening. “I heard something happened. Are you all right? I came as soon as…”
“Stop.” Elle’s voice cuts through the performance. “Don’t.”
Giselle stops, her arms falling to her sides. Her eyes flick to me, to the official, to the security officer by the door.
“What’s going on?” She looks around the room. “Why are we in here? Georgina, what happened?”
“My rein failed during my round.” Elle’s voice is flat. “Someone damaged it. They also damaged my stirrup leather.”
“That’s terrible.” Giselle’s expression shifts to sympathy. “Are you hurt? Is Sovrano…”
“You were in my stabling area this morning.” Elle cuts her off. “While I was walking the course.”
Giselle’s face goes very still.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice is careful now, measured. “I came to watch you ride. I wanted to see how you were doing after everything.”
“We have video footage,” the security officer says. “From the entrance to the temporary stabling aisle. It shows you entering the area and moving toward your sister’s stall.”
“I was leaving a good luck card.” Giselle’s eyes dart between the faces in the room. “I wanted to wish her well before her class.”
“A staff member saw you handling equipment,” the official adds. “She said you were adjusting something on the saddle.”
“I was straightening it.” Giselle’s voice rises slightly. “It looked crooked. I was trying to help.”
“There’s no card in my bag,” Elle says. “I watched them open it. There’s nothing in there except what I packed myself.”