Stranded With The Detective

“Thoroughbreds? Racehorses?”

“Some, yes. I also raise exotics—rare or unusual breeds in this part of the world, including draft horses. They’re my bread and butter, steady income while we try to produce the next Kentucky Derby champion. But that’s like winning the lottery. The last Derby winner our ranch produced was back when my dad ran the place, when I was just a baby.” She frowned. “I don’t see how any of that matters, though.”

“Just getting some background information. You mentioned this Wilkerson guy like you’re pretty familiar with him. Is he a friend?”

“I wouldn’t call him a friend, no. We wave when we see each other across the fence or on the road. But we don’t typically socialize.”

“He’s your neighbor?”

“Yes. His property abuts mine.”

“But he can’t be located. He’s missing?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s one thing that I can’t blame on Palmer. Wilkerson hasn’t been kidnapped.”

Palmer crossed his arms, glaring at her.

She ignored him. “I spoke to the service that mows his grass and looks after his property when he’s gone. They said he’s on vacation and won’t be back for weeks. But they didn’t have an address or even a phone number. According to the police, Wilkerson has checked in a few times, so they’re not worried about foul play. But he hasn’t checked in since Gladiator was stolen, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.”

She waved a hand toward Palmer. “I’ve never even met this guy before and he shows up when both Wilkerson and I are gone and waves his fake papers around. If that isn’t suspicious, I don’t know what is. He probably saw Gladiator out in the field, decided he wanted to steal him and randomly chose Wilkerson as a front for his schemes. I bet he’s never even met Mr. Wilkerson.”

“Wilkerson, my employer, paid good money for him. Just because you changed your mind doesn’t mean I have to give you back the horse.”

The tent flap opened again and Blake strode down the aisle. “Sorry for interrupting. Thank you, Mr. Palmer, Miss Caraway. Your records came back clean.” He smiled and handed them back their IDs. “There’s a crowd gathering outside, wanting in the tent to prep the horses for the parade,” he told Dillon. “I’ll hold them back, but the natives are definitely getting restless.”

“Understood. Thanks, Blake.”

Blake hurried out of the tent and Dillon walked toward the next stall. “How much did Wilkerson allegedly pay for the stallion?” When he reached the stall door and got his first unblocked view of the horse, he let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Friesian?”

“Yes,” Palmer and Piper both said.

“He’s thicker and taller than other Friesians I’ve seen.”

After giving Palmer a warning glance, Piper responded alone this time, “That’s part of why he’s so special. Most Friesians are closer to fifteen or sixteen hands tall. Gladiator is seventeen hands and built like a Clydesdale.”

“Gorgeous.” Dillon’s voice sounded wistful, as if he wished he owned the stallion.

“He’s a perfect specimen,” she said, “heavily sought after as a breeder. Which is why I’d never agree to sell. His stud fees pay a large chunk of the expenses on the ranch.”

The pride in her voice and the joy on her face as she talked about the horse were enough to convince Colby that all was not as it seemed. The real question was whether Palmer or his boss, Wilkerson, was the bad guy. Then again, maybe both of them were in cahoots.

“You never answered Dillon’s question, Mr. Palmer. How much did your employer supposedly pay for Gladiator?”

“Thirty thousand.”

Colby stared at him, stunned.

Piper snorted again. “That’s not even half of what he’s worth. And the money hasn’t been wired to my bank account. I haven’t received a single dime. That alone proves he’s lying.”

Palmer shrugged. “That’s between you and Wilkerson. Maybe there was a mix-up in the wire transfer. The account numbers could have been transposed or something. All I know is that he told me it was taken care of and gave me the papers that you signed. I’m sure he’ll straighten out the financing hiccups.”

“I didn’t sign anything.” Her hands flexed at her sides as if she wanted to strangle him. “You’re a horse thief, plain and simple. You should be shot.”

“I think you mean hung,” Colby said. “I’m pretty sure that’s the time-honored punishment for horse thieves.”

She appeared to consider his outrageous statement, then nodded sagely. “Works for me. If Destiny doesn’t already have a hanging scaffold, I’ll be happy to help them build one. I’ll even volunteer to pull the trip lever.”

Colby grinned, then sobered when he caught Dillon frowning at him.

“Mr. Palmer,” Colby said. “Let’s assume for a moment that there really is a mix-up at the bank and it will be straightened out. Thirty thousand dollars is a heck of a lot of money to pay for a horse. It’s hard to believe that Wilkerson would send such a valuable animal off to a county fair. Why would he do that?”

Palmer’s gaze slid away from Colby. “Wilkerson wants to drum up interest in the horse community so he can command a higher stud fee. He told me to tour the stallion at equestrian events for a few months.”

“Lexington is about three hours away. Why bring the stallion that far? Even if everyone in Blount County attends the fair, that’s only a few thousand people. A lot of them have horses for pleasure, but I doubt anyone around here is in the market for an expensive exotic like Gladiator. So why bring a prize Friesian to Destiny?”

“Good question,” Piper chimed in before Palmer could respond. “Gladiator’s too big and heavy to win a race. But he’s gorgeous enough to win just about any horse show. What’s the purse for something like that? Four? Five hundred bucks? Palmer makes the circuit through Tennessee while Wilkerson is out of state, none the wiser. He pockets thousands of dollars that his employer knows nothing about. Assuming Wilkerson really is his employer. Sounds like a lucrative scam to me.”

Hatred seemed to seethe from every pore as Palmer stared at her. The man who’d screamed in fear of a pocketknife was long gone. Had it all been an act to make her underestimate him until he could get the knife from her? Maybe he’d heard other people outside the tent and thought his shouts would draw them in as potential witnesses to say that Piper was stealing his horse? One thing was certain. Piper had bought his helpless act and didn’t appear to see him as a physical threat, in spite of his size. But Colby had dealt with men like him before. And he suspected that Palmer could be an exceedingly dangerous enemy.

“I’m not breaking any laws.” Palmer’s voice was low and threatening. “I’m doing exactly what Wilkerson asked—getting the word out about his stallion, hyping up interest.”

“This is ridiculous. You’re such a liar.” Piper flicked her hand as if Palmer was a fly buzzing around her head.

Colby shot a worried glance at Dillon. Dillon’s furrowed brow told Colby that he was just as alarmed. He subtly nodded and widened his stance like a boxer preparing to face an opponent in the ring.

Piper waved her hands again, oblivious to the tension building around her. “This lowlife is not taking my horse. I won’t allow it. If you, gentlemen, will excuse me, I need to get Gladiator home.”

Normally, Colby wouldn’t have allowed a suspect, or a witness—whichever category Piper fell into—to shove past him. But he was only too happy to get her out of harm’s way and leave Dillon with the task of calming Palmer down. So he moved aside and followed her into the aisle. But that was as far as he was letting her go. He stepped in front of the door to Gladiator’s stall so she couldn’t open it.

She frowned up at him. “Will you move out of my way?” She bared her teeth in what was presumably supposed to be a smile but looked more like a grimace. “Please?”

“Dillon,” he said, without moving out of her way. “Do you have room for one more while we straighten this out? Might take a few days, especially since it’s a weekend and no judge would tolerate us interrupting his fishing time. I hear the largemouths are really biting right now.”

“A few days?” Piper squeaked. “I’m not going to stay with someone I don’t know, cop or not. And certainly not all weekend. I need to get Gladiator home. Now.”

“We’ll make room,” Dillon said, keeping his focus on Palmer. Equal in height and brawn, Dillon could probably hold his own against the other man if it came to it. But Palmer was a good twenty or thirty pounds heavier, beefier in the chest and gut. It wouldn’t be a quick fight, or an easy one.

“I already said I’m not staying with you.” Piper didn’t sound as flippant or confident as she had earlier. Her gaze flicked from Dillon to Palmer, as if she was just beginning to sense the tension around her and how dangerous the situation had become.

“He’s not talking about you staying with him,” Colby said. “He’s talking about the horse.”

Chapter Three (#u07672194-cf46-5b11-84ea-aaab2e4dd32e)

“What?” Piper stared up at Colby, wide-eyed, the freckles standing out in stark contrast to her suddenly pale face. “What exactly are you saying?”

“Dillon has a horse rescue farm, Harmony’s Haven. He can foster Gladiator there until we straighten out who legally owns him.”

Dillon was speaking in low tones to Palmer, apparently trying to calm him down. Colby couldn’t quite make out the words. When Palmer nodded, Dillon moved back a few feet and pulled out his phone to make a call. Colby could hear him telling his ranch manager, Griffin, to double up some of the smaller horses in the stable and combine two stalls into one that was large enough to safely contain a draft horse.