Kit Ehrman - At Risk

I glanced at Rachel.

Marty continued. "Come to think of it, I saw them talkin' earlier, thicker 'n flies on shit, and Sanders didn't look too happy then, either."

"Well, it makes sense they'd know each other. Sanders used to board at Harrison's farm." I readjusted the ice. "Wonder what's up."

"Who the hell cares?"

I scrunched down into the cushions and concentrated on balancing the ice while keeping the pressure as light as possible. Several minutes later, Marty was still pacing around the room. Angie was sprawled on the adjacent sofa and looked bored, and Rachel was watching me with a worried expression on her pretty face.

I tried a smile. "Well," I said, "so much for an uneventful party."

Rachel shifted on the cushions. "I thought he was going to kill you."

"No. He wasn't that stupid," I said, convincing myself as much as her. "Anyway… everything worked out okay."

She frowned. "Your perception of okay's kind of skewed."

"Yeah." Marty plopped down next to Angie. "Just wait 'til Monday morning."

"Monday morning?" Rachel looked from Marty to me.

"Yeah," Marty said. "When Mrs. Hill finds out about our wild man here."

I listened to the grin in his voice. "What was I supposed to do?" I said. "Just stand there and let him cut me?"

"No, Steve. But you didn't have to pound him into the ground, either. Not that I blame you. Hell, I might of killed the bastard."

I slid my spine deeper into the sofa and rested my head on the cushions.

Marty said, "Is the ice making any difference?"

"Yeah. Now, not only does my nose hurt, it's cold."

He snorted.

After a minute or two, I shifted the ice pack. Marty had his arm draped across Angie's shoulders. Their heads were turned toward each other, their voices indistinct murmurs. Rachel's arms were stiff at her sides, and her shoulders looked tense. I took the ice off my face, sat up straighter, and put my hand on hers.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"For what?"

"Sorry that this whole stupid thing happened." I squeezed her hand.

"Well, we're outta here." Marty levered himself off the sofa. "You gonna be all right, Steve?"

"Yep."

"Good. See you Monday, if you still got a job."

I groaned. "And, Marty… thanks."

He slid his arm around Angie's waist and grinned wickedly. "We'll discuss my fee later."

I watched them head toward the door and decided he looked fit enough to drive. The evening's events had no doubt gone a long way toward sobering him up. "Hey… drive carefully," I yelled over my shoulder.

"Yes, Mom," he said with mock disgust.

After the door had swung shut, I thanked Rachel.

"For what?"

I shrugged. "For being here."

"You're welcome. It's been… different."

She was sitting close. The place was deserted, and given any other circumstance, it would have been perfect.

"Are you really going to get in trouble?"

"I hope not."

"Can I get you something?" She rose to her feet and scanned the lounge. "Don't they have a first aid kit around here? Some aspirin would help."

I started to get up.

Rachel put her hands on my shoulders. "Stay put. I'll get it."

She looked so serious, it was all I could do not to grab hold of her and pull her into my lap. I smiled at her instead and sank back into the cushions. "In the office. On the table along the back wall."

While she went on her search, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing in my head. Listening to her rummage around in the office, I thought about the following morning, when I was expected to come in early and clean up after the party. I didn't feel like it, and I doubted six hours were going to change my outlook any. I checked my watch. Eleven-forty-five. Make that five hours. When I opened my eyes, Rachel was standing in front of me with three Tylenol caplets in one hand, a Coke in the other, and a worried expression on her pretty face. A grin from me was met with a frown, and I found I was liking her more and more.

"Three?" I said.

"It won't hurt, and you look like you could use it." She watched me swallow the pills, then sat down beside me. "Do you think your nose is broken?"

"Probably not, but if it is, there's nothing much to be done about it. The last time I… eh." Damn, why'd I have to bring that up? I sure as hell didn't want to talk about that. "It probably isn't."

"Um." Rachel swiveled around to face me, much as Elsa had done, minus the sexual come-on. She reached over and lifted the ice pack off the armrest. "Here, you should keep this on your nose. Somehow, I figure when you get home you won't bother."

Rachel scooted around so that she was on her knees beside me on the sofa. She braced her left hand on the backrest next to my shoulder and held the ice on my nose. Any closer and she'd be in my lap. I wanted to take the damn ice off my face and wrap my arms around her, but my stomach had other plans. My gut was churning like a cement mixer, and I thought I'd probably swallowed more blood than I'd realized.

"Rachel." I reached up and took the ice pack out of her hand. "Thanks for all your help. I think-"

"You're welcome."

"It's the last thing I want, but I really need to head home."

"It's getting late, isn't it?" She lifted her hand off the back of the sofa to check the time and lost her balance. I caught her as she toppled forward. We stared at each other, our faces almost touching. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and I couldn't help but grin at her. I slid my hands around her waist and helped her get vertical, though horizontal would have been a hell of a lot more fun.

I let her go, and she stood up. "I'll walk you to your car, if you like," I said.

"I like." She ran her fingers through her hair, and if I wasn't mistaken, her face was flushed.

If she was embarrassed, she had no reason to be. Not with me. I struggled to my feet but got to the door before she did. When I held it open for her, she brushed past me and smiled as if at some private joke, or so it seemed.

Rachel slid behind the wheel of her Toyota Camry and wound down the window. Except for her vehicle and mine, now looking ridiculous parked by the road, the place was deserted. She looked at me looking at my truck and grinned. "Would you like a ride to your truck?"

"No thanks. I need to go back and check the barns before I leave." I stepped back as she started the engine and slipped it into gear. "Have a safe drive home," I said.

"You, too."

I watched her drive off, checked the barns, then broke every speed limit home, all the while wishing that Mrs. Hill wouldn't find out about the fight but knowing she'd hear about it one way or the other.

The clock radio clicked on, and I groped for the off button. When I didn't find it right away, I yanked the cord out of the wall. Monday morning, and rain was hammering the tin roof above my head and slashing against the windows as gusts of wind battered the barn. But what did I expect? It was, after all, April first.

On the drive to Foxdale, the dreary, rhythmic scrape of wipers across windshield grated on my nerves. I turned on the radio-loud-and mulled over yesterday afternoon's unsuccessful trailer search with Detective Ralston.

Based on Ralston's premise that "the obvious is oftentimes the most likely" and assuming that the horse thieves had been taking me to territory they were familiar with, we had worked in concentric circles that radiated outward from where I'd escaped the trailer. Almost half of the trailer owners weren't home. Most who were kept their trailers on the farms where they boarded their horses, necessitating yet another trip on our part. All reacted with genuine surprise at a police detective's appearance on their doorstep.

On the positive side, working down the list produced the expected domino effect we'd hoped for. Knocking off just one trailer's make and model immediately eliminated several names on the list. We worked through all of Montgomery County and part of Howard before calling it a day. Even still, the results were disappointing.