Best Kept Secrets

Nine

 

 

 

 

 

Like the house, the stable was built of stone. The interior

 

was like any other that Alex had seen, except that it was

 

spotlessly clean. Two rows of stalls were divided by a wide

 

center aisle. It smelled, not unpleasantly, of hay and leather

 

and horseflesh.

 

 

 

Low wattage night-lights placed between the stalls made

 

it easy for her to see where she was going--toward a brighter

 

light that was burning in a stall about midway down. Quietly

 

she made her way toward it, passing an open tack room and

 

a door that was labeled physical therapy. Through a wide

 

opening she also saw a round pen with a walker that would

 

exercise several horses at one time.

 

 

 

Before she saw him, she heard Reede, speaking in a low

 

murmur to the occupant of the stall. Drawing even with it,

 

she looked inside. He was hunkered down, sitting on the

 

heels of his boots, rubbing his large hands up and down the animal's back leg.

 

 

 

His head was bent to one side as he concentrated on his

 

task. His fingers pressed a spot which was obviously sensitive.

 

The horse snuffled and tried to withdraw.

 

 

 

"Easy, easy."

 

 

 

"What's the matter with him?"

 

 

 

He didn't turn around or show the slightest surprise at the

 

sound of her voice. Apparently, he had known all along that

 

she was standing there and was just being obtuse. He gently

 

lowered the injured leg and, standing, patted the animal's

 

rump. "It's a her." He shot her a suggestive smile. "Or

 

aren't you old enough to tell the difference?"

 

"Not from this angle."

 

"Her name is Fancy Pants."

 

"Cute."

 

"It fits her. She thinks she's smarter than me, smarter than

 

anybody. Fact is, she's too smart for her own good. She goes

 

too far, too fast, and as a result, she ends up getting hurt."

 

He scooped up a handful of grain and let the horse eat it from

 

his hand.

 

"Oh, I get it. That's a veiled reference to me." He admitted

 

it with a shrug. "Should I take it as a threat?"

 

"You can take it any way you want it."

 

Again, he was playing word games, implying double meanings.

 

Alex didn't rise to the bait this time. "What kind of

 

horse is she?"

 

"A pregnant one. This is the mares' barn."

 

"They're all kept here?"

 

"Away from the others, yeah." The mare nuzzled his

 

chest and he smiled as he scratched behind her ears. "Mamas

 

and babies cause a ruckus in a stable."

 

"Why?"

 

He shrugged his shoulders, indicating there was no clear-cut

 

explanation. "I guess it's like the nursery floor at the

 

hospital. Everybody goes a little nuts over a newborn."

 

He ran his hand over the mare's smooth belly. "This is

 

her first time, and she's nervous about being a mother. She

 

got a little skittish the other day when they were walking her

 

and injured her metatarsal."

 

"When will she foal?"

 

"In the spring. She's got a while yet. Give me your hand."

 

"What?"

 

"Your hand." Sensing her reservation, he impatiently

 

drew her into the stall with him until she was standing as

 

close to the mare as he. "Feel."

 

He covered her hand with his and flattened it against the

 

 

 

mare's sleek coat. The hair was coarse and short, and the

 

vitality and strength of muscle beneath it was evident to the

 

touch.

 

The animal snuffled and took a hesitant step forward, but

 

Reede shushed her. The stall seemed close and overheated.

 

The fecund smell of new life in the making permeated the

 

square enclosure. "She's warm," Alex commented breathlessly.

 

"She sure is."

 

Reede moved closer to Alex and maneuvered her hand,

 

together with his, down the contours of the mare's body to

 

her swollen underbelly. Alex gave a soft exclamation of surprise

 

when she felt movement.

 

"The foal." Reede was so close his breath disturbed

 

strands of her hair and she smelled the scent of his cologne,

 

mingled with that of the stable.

 

A swift kick against her palm made Alex laugh with spontaneous

 

delight. She also gave a start of surprise and bumped

 

against Reede. "So active."

 

"She's breeding me a winner."

 

"She belongs to you?"

 

"Yes."

 

"What about the sire?"

 

"I paid dearly for his services, but he was worth it. Good-looking

 

stallion from Florida. Fancy Pants took to him right

 

away. I think she was sorry when it was over. Maybe if he

 

was around all the time, I wouldn't have to worry about her

 

getting out of line."

 

The pressure in Alex's chest was such that she could barely

 

breathe. Her inclination was to rest her cheek against the

 

mare's side and continue to listen to Reede's lulling voice.

 

Thankfully, her reason reasserted itself before she did anything

 

so foolish.

 

She pulled her hand from beneath his and turned. He was

 

standing so close to her that her clothes brushed against his,

 

and she had to tilt her head back until it was resting against

 

the horse in order to look into his face.

 

 

 

"Do all owners have access to the stables?"

 

Reede stepped back and allowed her to move toward the

 

opening.

 

"Since I used to work for the Mintons, I guess they feel

 

they can trust me."

 

"What kind of horse is she?" Alex said, reverting to her

 

original question.

 

"A Quarter Horse."

 

"A quarter of what?"

 

" 'A quarter of what?' " He tossed back his head and

 

laughed. Fancy Pants danced aside. "Jesus, that's good. A

 

quarter of what?" He unfastened the chain that had secured

 

the mare to a metal ring in the wall, and then joined Alex

 

outside the stall, carefully closing the gate behind him. "You

 

don't know much about horses, do you?"

 

"Obviously not," she replied tightly.

 

Her embarrassment seemed to amuse him for only a moment.

 

Then, frowning, he asked, "Was coming out here your

 

idea?"

 

"Junior invited me."

 

"Ah, that figures."

 

"Why should it figure?"

 

"He's always hot on the trail of the newest available

 

broad."

 

Blood surged through Alex's veins. "I am not available

 

to Junior, or to anybody else. Neither am I a broad."

 

He subjected her to a slow and ridiculing once-over. "No,

 

I guess you're not. Too much lawyer and not enough woman.

 

Don't you ever relax?"

 

"Not when I'm working on a case."

 

"And that's what you were doing over drinks?" he asked

 

scornfully. "Working on your case?"

 

"That's right."

 

"They've sure got funny methods of investigation in the

 

Travis County D.A.'s office." He turned his back on her and

 

swaggered toward the opposite end of the building.

 

"Wait! I'd like to ask you a few questions."

 

 

 

"Subpoena me," he tossed over his shoulder.

 

"Reede!" Impulsively, she struck out after him and

 

grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket. He stopped, glanced

 

down where her fingers were curled into the age-softened

 

leather, then came around slowly and stared at her with eyes

 

as green and sharp as jungle spears.

 

She let go of his sleeve and fell back a step. She wasn't

 

frightened; rather, she was shocked at herself. She hadn't intended

 

to call his name like that, and she certainly hadn't

 

intended to touch him, especially after what had happened in

 

the stall.

 

Wetting her lips nervously, she said, "I want to talk to

 

you. Please. Off the record. To satisfy my own curiosity."

 

"I know the technique, Counselor. I've used it myself.

 

You play chummy with the suspect, hoping that he'll drop

 

his guard and tell you something he's trying to hide."

 

"It's not like that. I just want to talk."

 

"About what?"

 

"About the Mintons."

 

"What about them?"

 

Standing with his feet widespread, pelvis tipped slightly

 

forward, he slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans,

 

which pulled his jacket open across his chest. The stance was

 

intimidatingly manly. It aroused her as much as it annoyed

 

her. Alex tried to suppress both responses. "Would you say

 

that Angus and Sarah Jo have a happy marriage?"

 

He blinked and coughed. "What?"

 

"Don't look at me like that. I'm asking for your opinion,

 

not an analysis."

 

"What the hell difference does it make?"

 

"Sarah Jo's not the kind of woman I would have expected

 

Angus to marry."

 

"Opposites attract."

 

"That's too pat. Are they . . . close?"

 

"Close?"

 

"Close, as in intimate."

 

"I've never thought about it."

 

 

 

"Of course you have. You lived here."

 

"Apparently, my mind doesn't operate on the same prurient

 

track as yours." He took a step closer and lowered his

 

voice. "But, we could change that."

 

Alex refused to let him provoke her, which she knew came

 

closer to his intention than seduction. "Do they sleep together?"

 

"I guess so. It's none of my business what they do or

 

don't do in bed. Furthermore, I don't care. I only care about

 

what goes on in my bed. Why don't you ask me about that?"

 

"Because I don't care."

 

Again, he gave her a slow, knowing grin. "I think you

 

do."

 

"I hate being patronized, Mr. Lambert, just because I'm

 

a woman prosecutor."

 

"Then stop being one."

 

"A woman?"

 

"A prosecutor."

 

Mentally, she counted to ten. "Does Angus see other

 

women?"

 

She could see annoyance building up behind his green eyes.

 

His patience with her was wearing thin. "Do you take Sarah

 

Jo for a passionate woman?"

 

"No," Alex replied.

 

"Do you figure that Angus has a healthy sexual appetite?"

 

"If it matches his other appetites, I'd say yes."

 

"Then, I guess you've got your answer."

 

"Has their relationship affected Junior?"

 

"How the hell should I know? Ask him."

 

"He'd only make some glib, dismissive comment."

 

"Which would be a nice way of telling you that you're

 

interfering with business that doesn't concern you. I'm not

 

as nice as he is. Butt out, lady."

 

"This does concern me."

 

He withdrew his hands from his hip pockets and folded

 

his arms across his chest. "I can hardly wait to hear this

 

rationalization."

 

 

 

She didn't let his sarcasm daunt her. "His parents' relationship

 

might explain Why Junior has had three failed marriages."

 

"That's something else that's none of your business."

 

"It is my business."

 

"How so?"

 

"Because Junior loved my mother."

 

The words reverberated down the corridor of the quiet

 

stable. Reede's head went back with a snap, as if he'd sustained

 

a quick, unexpected uppercut on the chin. "Who told

 

you that?"

 

"He did." She watched him closely, adding softly, "He

 

said you both loved her."

 

He stared at her for a considerable time, then shrugged.

 

"In one way or another. So?"

 

"Is that why Junior's marriages didn't work? Because he

 

was still carrying a torch for my mother?"

 

"I have no idea."

 

"Take a wild guess."

 

"Okay." Arrogantly, he angled his head to one side. "I

 

don't think Celina had shit to do with Junior's marriages. It's

 

just that he can't fuck for recreation without feeling guilty

 

about it later, so to ease his conscience, he takes a wife every

 

few years."

 

His statement was intended to offend her, and it did. She

 

tried not to show how much. "Why do you think he feels

 

guilty about it?"

 

"Genetics. He's got generations of southern chivalry flowing

 

through his veins. That makes for a guilty conscience

 

where the ladies are concerned."

 

"What about you?"

 

A Cheshire-cat grin lifted one corner of his mouth.' 'I never

 

feel guilty for anything I do."

 

"Even murder?"

 

His grin collapsed and his eyes turned dark. "Get the hell

 

out of here."

 

"Have you ever been married?"

 

 

 

"No."

 

"Why not?"

 

"None of your goddamn business. Anything else, Counselor?"

 

"Yes. Tell me about your father."

 

Gradually, Reede lowered his arms to his sides. He gave her a hard, cold stare. Alex said, "I know your father died

 

while you were still in school. Junior mentioned it today.

 

When he died, you came to live here."

 

"You have a morbid curiosity, Miss Gaither."

 

"I'm not curious. I'm looking for facts pertinent to my

 

investigation."

 

"Oh, sure. Pertinent stuff like Angus's sex life."

 

She gave him a reproving look. "Motives are what I'm

 

after, Sheriff Lambert. As a law officer, you can identify

 

with that, can't you? Ever hear of motive and opportunity?"

 

His eyes turned even colder. "I need to establish your frame

 

of mind the night of my mother's death."

 

"That's bullshit. What has that got to do with my old

 

man?"

 

"Maybe nothing, but you tell me. If it's irrelevant, why

 

are you so touchy about it?"

 

"Did Junior tell you how my old man died?" She shook

 

her head. Reede snorted a bitter laugh. "I can't imagine why

 

not. The nasty details made big news around here. People

 

talked about it for years."

 

He bent at the waist so they were standing eye to eye. "He

 

choked to death on his own vomit, too drunk to save himself.

 

That's right, look shocked. It was pretty goddamned horrifying,

 

especially when the principal of the high school called

 

me out of class to tell me."

 

' 'Reede." In an attempt to stop the flow of sarcastic words,

 

Alex raised her hand. He swatted it aside.

 

"No, if you're so anxious to open all the closet doors and

 

expose the skeletons, here it is. But brace yourself, baby,

 

this one's a dilly.

 

"My daddy was the town drunk, a laughingstock, a worth