He didn't comment.
We went into the barn and he put D'Artagnon into the grooming stall, removing his bridle and putting on his halter. I went to the opposite side of the horse and crouched to pull one of his boots off, keeping my feet under me and one eye on Van Zandt.
"You owe me dinner," I said.
"You owe me for a lesson."
"Are we even then?"
"I don't think so," he said. "I don't believe I'm through teaching you, Elle Stevens."
He came around the front of the horse. I moved behind the horse to the other side and bent to pull off another boot.
"You are if I say so."
"There are many kinds of lessons," he said enigmatically.
"I don't need a mentor. Thanks anyway."
I moved to the cabinet with the grooming supplies and surreptitiously pulled out a scissors. I wouldn't hesitate to stab him with it if he made a wrong move.
Maybe, I thought, I should stab him anyway-the best defense being a good offense. He was a murderer. Why run the risk of him hurting me, hurting Molly? I could step in close, shove the scissors to their hilt in his stomach at his navel. He would bleed out before he could do more than realize I'd killed him.
I would plead self-defense. The 911 call would establish I had felt in danger. Van Zandt was already known to the Sheriff's Office as a murder suspect.
I could call on my father to defend me. The press would eat it up. Father and prodigal child reunited as he fights to save her from the death chamber.
I had never purposefully taken a life. I wondered if I would feel remorse, knowing what I knew about Van Zandt.
"We could have made a good team, you and I," he said.
He moved back around the front of the horse.
I palmed the scissors and watched him come toward me.
My arms were trembling with fatigue and nerves. I wondered if I would have the strength to drive the blade into his body.
"You make it sound as if I'm never going to see you again," I said. "Are you going somewhere? Am I?"
He still had the sunglasses on. I couldn't see his eyes. His face was without expression. I didn't think he would kill me here, now. Even if he was willing to kill Molly too, he couldn't know for certain Sean wasn't in the house.
"I am not going anywhere," he said, stepping closer.
"Tomas!" Sean's voice rang down the aisle. Relief washed through me like a tidal wave, taking my strength with it. "I thought you might never come back! No one has tried to injure you this time, have they?"
"Only his pride," I said, leaning against the cabinet, setting the scissors aside. "I've denied him the joy of becoming my coach."
"Oh, my God!" Sean laughed. "Why would you want that job? She eviscerated the last one and served his remains in a spaghetti sauce with fava beans and a fine Chianti."
"She needs taming," Van Zandt said, finding a thin smile.
"And I need to be twenty again, but that's never going to happen either," Sean said, coming to me. He kissed my cheek and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. "Darling, Molly is waiting impatiently. Why don't you run? I'll see to D'Artagnon."
"But I know you need to get going too," I said. "You have that luncheon today, don't you?"
"Yes." He gave Van Zandt a look of apology. "Riders Against Rheumatoid Rumps, or some equally worthy cause. Sorry to give you the bum's rush, Tomas. Call me tomorrow. We'll do dinner or something. Maybe when your client from Virginia arrives we could all go out."
"Of course, yes," Van Zandt said.
He came to me, put his hands on my shoulders, and kissed my cheeks. The right one, the left one, the right one. Like the Dutch. He looked at me and I thought I could feel the hate in his gaze, even through the mirrored lenses. "Until later, Elle Stevens."
31
I started to shake as I watched Van Zandt drive away. He might have killed me. I might have killed him.
Until later…
"What the hell was that about?" Sean demanded. "Your little friend came running, telling me to call nine-one-one."
"I told her to. I didn't think you were home. Did you make the call?"
"No. I beat it out here to save you! For God's sake, I'm not waiting in the house for the fucking deputies to get here while some maniac is dismembering you."
I put my arms around him and hugged him. "My hero."
"Explanation, please," he said firmly.
Moving away from him, I glanced out to make sure the devil hadn't changed his mind and come back.
"I have pretty good reason to believe Van Zandt murdered that girl at the show grounds."
"Jesus, Elle! Why isn't he in jail? What was he doing here?"
"He's not in jail because he ditched the evidence. I know that because I saw it and called the cops. But when Landry got there it was gone. I think Van Zandt knows I know."
Sean stared at me, shocked, trying to process it all. Poor boy. He really hadn't known what he was in for when he'd taken me in.
"I'm going to take advantage of this moment of silence to remind you: you got me into this," I said.
He looked at the ceiling, looked down the aisle, looked at D'Artagnon, who stood waiting patiently in the cross-ties.
"This is supposed to be a genteel sport," Sean said. "Lovely animals, lovely people, polite competition…"
"Every business has an underside. You've seen it."
He shook his head, sober, sad. "Yes, I've seen people cheated, I know people who've gotten conned in a horse deal, I know people who've gotten away with some questionable practices. But my God, Elle. Murder? Kidnapping? You're talking about a world I don't know anything about."
"And I'm up to my chin in it." I reached up and gently patted his handsome cheek. "You wanted me to be something interesting."
"If I'd had any idea… I'm sorry, honey."
"No. I'm sorry," I said, not knowing quite how one apologized for visiting a murderer upon one's friends. "I could have said no. Or I could have bailed when the Sheriff's Office took the case. I didn't. My choice. But I shouldn't have dragged you into it."
We stood there, both of us shell-shocked, feeling drained. Sean put his arms around me and hugged me, and kissed the top of my head.
"Please be careful, El," he murmured. "I didn't save you so you could get yourself killed."
I could hardly remember the last time anyone had held me. I'd forgotten how good it felt to be enveloped by another person's warmth. I'd forgotten how precious and fragile was the genuine concern of a real friend. I felt very lucky-another first time in too long a time.
The corner of my mouth turned up as I looked up at him. "No good deed goes unpunished," I said.
From the corner of my eye I saw Molly peek around the corner of the barn, eyes wide.
"He's gone, Molly," I said. "It's okay."
She composed herself as she came down the aisle, shaking off the traces of the frightened child who had run for help.
"Who was that?" she asked. "Is he one of the kidnappers?"
"I can't say yet. He might be. He's a bad guy. I know that for certain. I was lucky you showed up when you did, Molly. Thank you."
She glanced at Sean, said, "Excuse me," then looked up at me with her Junior Businesswoman expression. "I need to speak with you in private, Elena."
Sean raised his brows. "I'll see to D'Ar," he offered. "I need to do something to calm my nerves. It's too early in the day to drink."
I thanked him and took Molly into the lounge. The scent of the coffee Irina had made filled the room. I wondered absently why she had come down from her apartment to make it. She had a small kitchen of her own. It didn't matter. Grateful for what was left in the pot, I poured myself a cup, took it to the bar, and dropped a healthy shot of whiskey into it.
Too early my ass.
"Would you like something?" I asked Molly. "Water? Soda? Double-malt scotch?"
"No, thank you," she said politely. "You're fired."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry, but I have to terminate our arrangement," she said.
I gave her a long, hard look, trying to see where this was coming from. Landry's news came back to me, cutting through the smog of Van Zandt's veiled threats.