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