Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (128 page)

Becky closed the phone and looked at Dino. He’d obviously heard because he grinned and opened his arms. It took her less than two seconds to leap into them.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“And then Echo flattened her ears and started running. Watch her in the stretch, Martha.” Dino raised the volume on his laptop; the crowd’s cheers filled the living room.

Martha stared at the screen, watching the replay as Echo blasted past Country Zip. “Those California horses can’t hold their speed,” she said. “Malcolm always bred for distance. Play it again, please.”

Becky sipped her champagne while Dino replayed the race for the fifth time. He was wonderfully patient, and Martha glowed with a sense of achievement. Echo had tied a track record, and the phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Dino had said it would be a good time to start dispersing the two-year-olds, as the value of Conrad stock had escalated with Echo’s convincing win. But of course, he was satisfied. Soon he’d be in southern Texas, at his ranch—he had what he wanted.

“Oh, this is such a perfect day.” Martha clapped her hands, pulling back Becky’s attention. “But where’s Slim? He should be celebrating with us.”

Dino sighed and crossed his arms.

He’s going to tell her.
“Slim’s around.” Becky scrambled to her feet. “Just couldn’t come tonight.”

“He should be here,” Martha said. “He worked hard. This is as much his victory as Malcolm’s.”

Dino’s face hardened but Becky gave him a pleading smile. He turned and silently replaced the laptop in its case.

“You must take my winnings to Stephanie,” Martha said to Becky. “And a win picture. This is an historical day. Oh, the heck with water. Pour me some champagne.”

Dino lifted the bottle from the silver wine chiller. “One glass won’t hurt,” he said, looking over Martha’s head at Becky.

Fine for him, she thought, tugging at her lower lip. Martha didn’t matter so much, not now. She clenched her hands, wishing she could recapture her earlier euphoria. Wished she had more time—with the horses, with Martha, with Dino. A band tightened around her chest.

Ring
. The doorbell chimed from the entry. Seconds later, Jocelyn jerked into the room, taut and white-faced, followed by a policeman with nervous eyes and a hat clenched in his hands.

“I’m very sorry.” His gaze darted to the right, and his bald head gleamed under the chandelier. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “but there’s been a traffic fatality. David Barrett was killed.”

David Barrett?
Becky stared blankly.

“Oh, no! Slim!” Martha’s face blanched, her mouth still wrapped around Slim’s name. The glass slid from her fingers and shattered on the unforgiving marble floor. Dino grabbed her slumping body before she joined the shards glittering at her feet.

***

The rest of the evening was a blur. The frantic drive to the hospital with Martha had blended into a numbing wait and now even the doctor’s face seemed smudged. Becky blinked, trying to absorb his words.

“She’s resting comfortably,” the doctor said. “We’ll know more later. The first twelve hours are crucial.” He nodded gravely and disappeared through a door marked ‘restricted.’

Becky rubbed her itchy eyes. “I have to call Ted.”

“I already called him,” Dino said. “He’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But did you tell him she had a heart attack? Just like Malcolm. That they don’t know—” Her voice broke as Dino pulled her to his chest, his comforting hand slipping beneath her hair to rub her neck. She sucked in a choky breath. “I knew she couldn’t take any upsets. I shouldn’t have let you fire Slim. Maybe should have stopped the policeman from telling her.”

“It’s not your fault. Martha doesn’t want to live in a vacuum.” Dino’s reassuring voice rumbled against her ear. “She wouldn’t want a life like that.”

“But I want that. If it helps her live longer.” She drew in his familiar smell, his calmness. He was always so focused. Didn’t worry about people coming and going…dying. “What exactly did you say to Slim? Do you think he drove into the ditch on purpose? Was he upset?”

“I fired him, Becky. No doubt he was a bit upset.”

“Couldn’t you have waited?” She twisted from his arms. “Made sure he was sober?”

“Now I wish I’d waited, of course. But at the time it seemed important to keep him away from the horses. To make sure Echo had a good race.”

“Because you wanted your bonus.” Her voice rose. “And now Slim is dead and Jill is alone and Martha—”

“You need to calm down, honey. Let’s get some coffee.”

“I don’t want coffee.” A man with a bandaged elbow shot her a curious glance, but she didn’t care. “And I’m calm. I just want to be alone.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ll stay with Martha.”

“You sure?”

His remote expression showed he was already beyond the hospital, no doubt making barn notes. He never worried about people like he did about horses. Probably one of the reasons he was such a good trainer. He probably wanted to go. It was early morning and, like her, he was exhausted. No reason for him to hang around too. But a voice in the back of her head wouldn’t shut up.
Please stay, please stay, please stay.

“Yes, you go,” she said evenly.

He stared at her for a long moment then nodded. “All right. I’ll drop back later. Let me know how she’s doing.”

He kissed her cheek and walked toward the swinging doors, past two nurses who both smiled prettily. Then the door shut and she was alone.

***

“So an animal may have caused the accident.” Dino loosened his grip on the phone, his aching guilt easing as he spoke to the police officer. There had been no note, no evidence to show Slim had deliberately driven off the road. There was also no evidence of alcohol so his insurance would be valid. “Yes, that’s right,” Dino added. “I’ve never known him to use drugs. Guess something made him swerve. Thanks for the update.”

He closed his phone and gestured at Cody who hovered in the barn aisle. “You’re in charge today,” he said. “Make sure Echo is walked and wrapped. Call if you have questions.”

“Sure. Don’t worry about a thing.” Cody tucked the clipboard under his arm and shook his head. “Damn shame about Slim. Did someone go to that place where his daughter lives? Don’t think he had any other family.”

Dino dragged a hand over his jaw. Of course, Jill. And Stephanie also should be told in person—she’d known Slim for years. “Does Jill live in that big gray building on the way to Lone Star?” he asked. “
Helping Hands
something?”

“That’s the place.” Cody grimaced. “Looks like a jail.”

“Okay. I’ll stop by on the way to the track.” Dino cast a longing look at the training oval, wishing he could stay. The new exercise rider was okay and probably could follow instructions, but Cody was a groom and knew little about conditioning.

At least Echo had bounced back from her race in good shape. Her legs were tight and cool, and Cody could look after things. He didn’t want Becky stuck with all the fallout from Slim’s death—she was centered on Martha, and rightly so. It wouldn’t be a big deal to take some of the load off her shoulders.

He fortified himself with a deep breath, stopped at his house to pick up Slim’s employee file and headed to the interstate.

The
Helping Hands Living Center
was easy to find and only forty-five minutes from Conrad’s. Proximity had probably been important; Slim hadn’t picked the place for its aesthetic appeal.

He lingered in the parking lot and flipped through the file, glad Becky had made a copy. Slim’s wife had died of cancer eleven years ago, and it appeared Jill was the only living relative. He shook his head at the sparse information. Damn shame. Both Jill and Slim had been dealt an excessive amount of bad luck.

He found what he was looking for and tossed the file on the seat with a relieved grunt. Finally, a break for the Barrett family. Slim’s insurance policy included a hefty death payout. And none of the exclusions applied.

He swung open the door of his pickup, pausing to study the bleak building. He disliked hospitals, avoided institutions of any type—the smell, the confinement, the despair. Tainted air seemed to seep into his skin and always made him want to bolt.

He trudged into the foyer. The receptionist was young, perky and delighted to have a visitor. Full of smiles, she seated him in a cramped office with a motley assortment of pictures and an oversized desk tag that read, John C. Chisholm.

Two minutes later, a solemn-faced man strode behind the desk. “Yes,” he said after shaking Dino’s hand. “We heard a rumor of the accident. Mr. Barrett visited Jill almost every day.” He cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the tip of his pen. “Will someone else be looking after the monthly payments? Our facility has a waiting list and naturally we’re a bit concerned.”

“No problem.” Dino shifted, uncomfortable in the hard seat. “It will take time but insurance will cover all Jill’s costs. Give me your card, and I’ll have the insurance company contact you.”

“Very good.” The man smiled, happy again, and passed over a white business card. “Jill’s outside with the others. Please don’t say anything about her father. We’ll have a psychiatrist break the news. It’s difficult to know what she understands.”

“Oh, I don’t need to see her,” Dino said, but John C. Chisholm had already risen with an air of expectancy and opened the door.

Dino squared his shoulders and followed the man down a long corridor. They took a sharp right through a wide double door, down a ramp and into a fenced courtyard.

“That’s Jill, the one in the wheelchair. She likes to sit close to the grass. Thanks for dropping by.” Chisholm nodded and turned away.

Dino headed toward Jill who was propped in the chair. A kind-eyed nurse adjusted a pink blanket and gave him an encouraging smile before edging away.

Jill’s hair was short, almost shaved, her eyes blank, and a thin notebook lay on her wasted legs.
Jesus
.

“Hello, Jill. My name’s Dino.” He knelt in front of her. She seemed to be watching some swooping swallows, and he fervently wished Becky was with him. She’d know how to handle this. Was always generous with her time and love. In fact, he resolved to bring her here as soon as Martha improved.

The birds disappeared, and he drew in a deep breath. “I dropped in to say hi. Check if you need anything.” He paused, not sure if she could even understand him. “I’ll drop by again. Maybe next week.”

“Orse.”

“Pardon.” He leaned closer, watching her lips. She’d definitely said something, and her attention was now focused on his chest.

“Orse.”

He looked down and noted the small Polo crest on his shirt.

Her eyes flashed with interest, the blank expression gone. “Orse,” she repeated and then she smiled, a big, beautiful grin that ripped at his chest.

His mouth opened but he could only nod as he tried to work words around the lump welling in his throat. “Yes, Jill,” he finally managed. “It’s a horse.”

“She loves horses.” The hovering nurse placed a gentle hand on Jill’s shoulder. “She’s a great artist too. Show him your drawings, Jill.”

Jill slowly opened her notebook, still distracted by his shirt.

“She’s always been able to draw,” the nurse said proudly. “Sometimes she sketches for hours.”

Dino’s eyes widened as Lyric filled the pages. “I know that horse. She’s a mare Jill used to ride.”

“She draws that particular one a lot, although she sketches birds and trees and round roads too. But she especially likes to draw horses. She’s very talented. And it makes her happy.”

Jill’s pencil skimmed over the page, her attention fixed on his shirt. Already he could see the image of the tiny Polo horse as she recreated it on the blank page. She laid her pencil down, awkwardly ripped out the page and passed it to him. “Orse.”

The nurse laughed. “She must like you. She doesn’t usually give away her pictures.”

Dino scanned the remarkable replica of the Polo logo and immediately saw the road the nurse mentioned—not a round road but an oval track. He swallowed again, buffeted by emotions impossible to contain.

Everyone spoke about how hard it was to give up the track, to give up the horses. Clearly Jill hadn’t been able to give them up either. The love she felt for Lyric, for the horses, was evident in her shining eyes and the lovingly drawn pictures.

He clasped the paper to his chest. “Thank you, Jill,” he said. “Thank you very much.”

***

Dino leaned back on Stephanie’s couch and downed a badly needed coffee.

“I can’t believe Slim’s dead.” Stephanie shook her head in sorrow. “Thanks for dropping by. But what’ll happen to Jill?”

“She’ll be okay once the insurance is settled. You should see her, Steph. She’s quite a little artist. She remembered every detail of Lyric, right down to the cowlick on that mare’s forehead. She came alive when she was drawing.”

“Horses get in your blood, a natural high. Imagine how thrilled she’d be to get out in the country and see some real ones. I’ve only been stuck inside for a week and already I’m depressed.”

Dino glanced around the tiny room, uncomfortably fingering his cup, knowing he’d go stark-raving mad confined to an apartment. Unable to find solace with horses. Or even worse, stuck in an institution.

He abruptly rose. “When’s your cast off?”

“Another four weeks.”

“Well, hurry up. We need you back galloping.” He checked his watch. It had been a depressing day, and obviously he wasn’t going to make it to Lone Star until noon. He’d already spent too much time at Stephanie’s, but it would have been callous to rush off after hitting her with news of Slim’s accident. He reached for his wallet. “I’m going to leave you some cash. Back payment for all those videos you analyzed with me.”

“No, I’m good. And you don’t have to buy any more groceries either. Becky texted me the results of Echo’s race and her genius betting. She made me a pile of money—hit the trifecta—and apparently Martha is tossing in her profits too. Man, I love that girl.”