She Can Tell (24 page)

“That’s not necessary. I can get Mrs. Holloway to pick me up.”

“I’d feel better if you were with Sean.” Mike was pretty sure Mrs. Holloway wasn’t sporting a nine millimeter under her jacket.

Rachel’s expression changed, as if the gravity of the situation had finally sunk in. “Someone tried to hurt me. Intentionally.”

“Sean will make sure you’re safe.”

She looked up into his eyes and nodded. “Thanks.” Along with apprehension, there was something else in her eyes. Trust. In him. His chest swelled. Her heart might be closed off, but she believed he’d keep her safe.

“I’ll try to come by later, but no promises. I have a lot on my plate.”

She didn’t tell him not to come. On the contrary, her eyes were misty. Gratitude? He didn’t dare hope for more.

Mike headed toward the door, his steps a fraction lighter.

“Hey, He-Man.”

He turned back.

“I told you nothing was broken.” Rachel was feeling feisty enough to smart-mouth him. Damned if that didn’t make him feel better.

He walked out. Sean was hanging in the hallway.

“You mind staying with her and driving her home?”

“Not at all,” Sean said. “Her alarm will be up and running tonight.”

“Thanks. I appreciate everything.” Mike turned away.

“Where are you headed?”

“Going out to interview Blake Webb before I get fired,” Mike said over his shoulder.

“Fidiots.”

Mike heard Sean’s disgusted retort behind him as he strode down the hall. His pocket buzzed, and he checked his phone. There was a new voice message from Fred telling him his presence was mandatory at an emergency meeting of the council members in two hours. Mike headed toward the exit.

Quinn snagged him on his way past the desk. “Got a minute, Maalox Man?”

“Damn Sean,” Mike muttered.

“My brother says you’re downing that shit like a frat boy chugging beer.”

Mike backed toward the door. “It’s been a rough week.”

Quinn gave him the hairy eyeball and pointed at him with his folded reading glasses. “Today’s Wednesday. You
have until the end of the week. Don’t make me send Sean after you.”

It was going to get shittier.

Rising Star Farms was a thirty-minute drive down the Northeast Extension. Mike turned into a mile-long driveway flanked by white-fenced pastures. On either side of the road, sleek horses grazed in the fading light. The barn that loomed behind the Tara-like mansion made Rachel’s look like a dollhouse version.

Mike parked in front of the huge white Georgian, complete with a circular portico and two-story columns. He expected a butler to answer the bell, but Blake Webb opened the door. His riding clothes bore smudges of dirt, and the high polish of his knee-high boots was dimmed by a few mud splatters. He was the epitome of the well-bred country gentleman. But under the expensive haircut, Webb’s eyes were tired. The set of his mouth and the fresh lines on his face suggested he hadn’t slept well lately. A tumbler of amber liquid dangled from his fingertips.

“Police Chief O’something, right?” Blake eyed the badge on Mike’s chest. “Are you here in a professional or personal capacity?”

“It’s O’Connell, and I’d like to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Rachel.”

“That isn’t an answer.” Blake wasn’t intimidated by the uniform. Rich people with expensive lawyers rarely were. He stepped back to admit Mike into a foyer flanked by curving staircases. “Well, come in. My father would be appalled to have a policeman in uniform standing on the doorstep.”

They passed under a crystal chandelier bigger than a Buick, and Mike followed Blake down a hall of gleaming hardwood into the library. The floor-to-ceiling shelves likely held more books that Westbury’s public facility.

“Is your father still active in the business?” Mike took a seat in a leather wing chair, pulled out his notebook, and watched Blake pace.

“No. Unfortunately, my father suffered a stroke a few years ago, and I was forced to take over.”

“You didn’t want the job?”

“I used to travel with Rachel wherever she was competing. I had to cut back on the globe-trotting after taking the reins, so to speak.” He dropped into the opposite chair. Blake sipped his booze and stared out the bank of windows that lined the rear wall. Outside, drizzle spotted a paver patio and disturbed the surface of the lagoon-shaped pool. “Ironically, Fleet was supposed to be my horse. But once Dad saw Rachel ride him, that was the end of that.”

Blake glanced over. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not bitter about Dad’s decision. He was right. Anyone with two eyes could see it, and I was already in love with her. I would’ve given her anything.” He paused, swirling the liquid and ice in his glass.

“Did Rachel tell you someone was actively trying to ruin her farm?”

Blake tensed. “No. Except for that one phone call to ask me to buy her horse, we haven’t been in contact since we…broke up. I guess I should be glad she still trusts me with her horse.”

“It started out with vandalism and property damage, but someone cut the girth to her saddle this morning, and she took a hard fall.”

“Is she all right?” Blake’s face went paler than the creamy carpet underfoot.

“Yes. Just bruised up.”

“I wasn’t there when she fell in Tampa. It took me six hours to get to her.” Emotion strained Blake’s voice. He lurched to his feet and swept a frustrated hand across his blond head. “Dammit. I told her she had no business riding again.”

Mike already knew giving Rachel an order was as effectual as bailing out the Titanic with a spoon. “You had nothing to do with it?”

“I would never hurt Rachel.”

“Are you sure you don’t want her back enough to try to ruin her farm so that she’d come running back to you?”

“You don’t know Rachel very well if you think that would work.” Blake moved to a rolling cart cluttered with decanters and sparkling crystal. “Drink, Chief O’Connell?”

“No thanks. I’m on duty.”

“Ah, a man of principle. You and Rachel have a lot in common.” Blake poured three inches of booze into his tumbler. Bitterness swept across his face. He downed half the glass. “Which is probably part of the reason she was never in love with me. Rachel can’t love a man she doesn’t respect. We were great friends, though, until I fucked
that
up by asking her to marry me.”

Mike’s pen froze above the page.

Blake capped the decanter with a soft
clink
. “And, to top it off, the night she turned down my proposal, I took comfort in a bottle and a slutty blond I picked up at a nightclub. Rachel came early the next morning to apologize and found us in bed. God, she even thought my disgusting behavior was her fault. Being the coward that I am, I let her.”

Blake walked back to the chair and sat down. He leveled his red-rimmed gaze at Mike. “If I could go back in time and undo just one thing in my entire life, it would be that first time I kissed her. She was here, still recuperating from the accident. She’d just learned that her career was over and was at the lowest point in her life. I had no business taking advantage of her. She was vulnerable, but I wanted her so damned much I did it anyway. I am a selfish bastard. I betrayed her and tossed away a ten-year friendship. I knew damned well she didn’t feel the way about me that I felt about her.”

“That had to hurt, though, that Rachel didn’t return your feelings,” Mike pressed.

“Rachel isn’t capable of falling in love.” Which wasn’t really an answer. Blake was on his feet again and headed back to the drink cart. Good thing he could afford a new liver.

“I don’t understand.”

He poured himself a double and refreshed the ice in his glass. “Have you met Rachel’s father?”

“No.”

“If you do, you’ll understand why she is the way she is.” Blake swallowed the rest of his drink and refilled, obviously bent on a serious binge. “She wouldn’t talk much about her past, but five minutes with her father and any idiot can see that her childhood left some pretty deep scars. Some wounds just don’t heal.”

“She didn’t trust you?”

“It has nothing to do with trusting others. Rachel doesn’t trust herself. She’s so afraid of hurting people. She’ll never let herself fall in love,” Blake slurred as he sank into the leather chair. “Her heart has been locked away for so long, she’s lost the key.”

“Call me if you remember anything else that might help me protect Rachel.” Mike tossed a business card on the coffee table. Blake didn’t respond, and Mike let himself out.

As he headed back to Westbury, he wondered if Blake were right. Was Rachel too damaged to recover?

Rachel shoved the truck door open.

“Hold on, there.” Sean jogged around the vehicle and took hold of her good elbow. “A face-plant wouldn’t help matters.”

She slid out of the passenger seat and stared at the silver Mercedes parked a few feet away. Rojas! Wait a minute. Twilight was descending on the farm, which meant it was somewhere around six. Lucia’s lesson was hours ago.

Rachel groaned. “I forgot to call my lesson and cancel.”

“I think you’ll be forgiven.” Sean escorted her across the grass.

“Are your workers still here?”

“They’d better be. In fact, the system should be ready to test.”

Rachel spotted the two assistants doing something to the back of the house. A power tool was running, but at this point, she was so tired, she didn’t really care what was going on. Climbing the back stoop took an enormous amount of energy. Rachel stepped into the kitchen, dreaming of
sweatpants and her pillow. She wanted out of her riding boots and into a hot shower. The smells of honest-to-God food hit her nose. Her stomach growled at the thought of her sister’s cooking. Maybe food, then bed.

Sean stopped abruptly and whispered in her ear. “Do you know him?”

Rachel looked up. Cristan Rojas sat at her kitchen table. His expensive, tailored clothes were incongruous with her ugly old kitchen. An aristocrat visiting his tenant farmer. Sarah was pouring him a cup of coffee.

He’d never been in her house before. He’d never expressed anything but animosity toward her.

“Mr. Rojas. This is a surprise.”

Rojas stood. He and Sean exchanged cold stares, as if they were gunslingers on opposite ends of the street at the OK Corral. As they sized each other up, Rachel gave them a mental eye roll and introduced them.

“Please, call me Cristan.” His dark eyes were full of concern and sympathy as they swept her body from head to toe. Hmmm. Maybe he didn’t dislike her as much as she thought.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call to cancel Lucia’s lesson,” Rachel said.

“Your omission is understandable under the circumstances.” Cristan nodded. “The evening wasn’t a total loss. Your sister was gracious enough to offer Lucia and me dinner.”

The sound of the older girl’s voice was barely audible through the swinging doors. It sounded like she was reading a story.

“It wasn’t much. Just pasta.” Sarah blushed at Cristan, then faced Rachel. “Can you eat?”

“God, yes.” Rachel lowered her aching body into a chair. “I missed lunch.”

Sarah went to the stove, removed a lid from a pot, and stirred something. “How about you, Sean?”

He shook his head. “No thanks. I’m going to go check with my men. Excuse me. We’ll be testing the system. Don’t be alarmed when the siren goes off.”

Sarah slid a plate of pasta in front of Rachel, and she concentrated on eating with some semblance of table manners.

“I’d better let the children know about the alarm.” Sarah went into the den. Soft giggling drifted into the kitchen as the door opened and closed. Rachel didn’t miss the lingering glance from Cristan as her sister left the room.

Interesting.

“I am glad to see that you are all right.” Cristan sipped his coffee.

“Omigod.” Rachel put a palm on the table and shifted her weight to rise. “Talk about brain fog. I almost forgot to feed the horses.”

Cristan leaned across the table and put a hand on her arm. His dark eyes sparkled. “I fed the horses an hour ago according to your
very
detailed chart in the barn.”

Was he mocking her? Rachel decided she didn’t care. “Thank you.”