Shadow Horse (2 page)

“And what did the victim tell you?”

“He said the defendant had attacked him with a hoof pick.”

“A hoof pick,” Mr. Sydow repeated. The judge furrowed his brow. The attorney approached the bench carrying a manila envelope. “Your Honor, a hoof pick is a sharp tool used for cleaning out a horse’s foot.”

Hoof, you blockhead
, Jas thought to herself.

“And is this the hoof pick you recovered, Officer Diamond?” The attorney pulled the hooked instrument out of the envelope and held it up.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. You may cross-examine the witness, Mr. Petrie.”

Petrie stood up, his chair scraping on the tile floor. “Officer Diamond, did you see my client attack the victim?”

“No.”

“Was she at all combative when you arrived?”

“No.”

“Did she give you a hard time when you arrested her?”

The officer paused. Jas held her breath. “At first, she was reluctant to leave her grandfather. The medical technicians were still working on him, and she wanted to make sure he was okay. But when I told her I would call the hospital as soon as we reached the police station, she came willingly.”

“No further questions.” Petrie sat down.

“Call the next witness,” the judge stated.

“Mr. Hugh Robicheaux,” Mr. Sydow said.

Goose bumps raced up Jas’s arms as Hugh strode to the witness box and settled his long frame in the chair. He was dressed in creased khaki pants and a tweed sport coat. A thin purplish scar ran down his left cheek, marring his handsome country-gentleman demeanor.

“Mr. Robicheaux, you are the owner of High Meadows Farm?” Mr. Sydow asked.

“I am.”

“And the defendant, Jasmine Schuler, and her grandfather, Karl Schuler, lived on your farm?”

“Yes, for the past five years Karl Schuler was the farm’s caretaker. And when his granddaughter, Jas, wasn’t in school, she would work for me as well. Jas’s grandmother also lived on the farm, until she died a year ago. She acted as my housekeeper.”

“And what type of work did Jasmine Schuler do at the farm?”

“Mostly she schooled and showed my horses. She was an excellent equestrienne.”

Tilting his head, Hugh smiled at Jas. She glared back, knowing how false his smile was and how easily he could pour on the charm.

“Mr. Robicheaux, please tell us what happened the afternoon of June first.”

“The incident started when Jas found one of my horses dead in the paddock. The mare had eaten a branch of yew, which is highly poisonous.”

Jas squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying not to remember the pain of that day. But it was too
hard to forget.
How did the yew get in here? Karl? Do you have an explanation for this?

No, Mr. Robicheaux. I know how poisonous yew is. You know I would never be so careless
.

But you were the only one trimming the hedges!

Sir, you can’t accuse me of killing Whirlwind. You know that I’m not capable of such a thing!

Who else could have done it?

Sir, it wasn’t—arrgh!

Grandfather, wh-what’s wrong? Grandfather!

Jas shuddered. Clenching her fists, she dug her fingernails into her palms. She hadn’t seen her grandfather since the day he collapsed. Now he was in a nursing home, his muscles partially paralyzed by a stroke. And she couldn’t help but blame Hugh Robicheaux for this whole mess.

“Thank you, Mr. Robicheaux. Mr. Petrie, you may cross-examine the witness.”

Jas’s lawyer stood up. “Mr. Robicheaux, why do you think Miss Schuler attacked you?”

Jas straightened in her chair, staring intently at Hugh.

With a pensive frown, Hugh ran his fingers
through his thick, carefully styled hair, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose she was distraught because her grandfather caused the death of her favorite horse—accidentally, of course,” he added quickly.

Liar
, Jas hissed to herself.

“Then her grandfather collapsed right in front of her,” Hugh continued. Pausing, as if in thought, he made a steeple of his fingers. “I realize now that she was probably in shock. I should have been more understanding.”

“So you said or did nothing to provoke her?”

“No.”

Dirty, fat liar
. Crossing her arms, Jas threw herself against the back of the chair.

“I have no further questions, Your Honor,” Petrie said as he sat down.

Mr. Sydow stood up. “We call Phil Sparks to the stand.”

Hat in hand, the farm manager trudged to the witness box and sat on the edge of the chair. Eyes straight ahead, he rigidly faced the attorney, as if afraid to look at Jas.

“Mr. Sparks, you are the manager of High Meadows Farm?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what are your duties on the farm?”

“I make sure it runs smoothly. Mr. Robicheaux owns over twenty horses and a hundred head of cattle, so I’m kept pretty busy.”

“Will you please tell the court what happened the evening of June first.”

Phil swallowed hard. He glanced once at Jas, with a pleading look in his eyes. Jas bit her lip, wishing she could tell him it was okay to tell the truth.

“I was in the driveway on the other side of the barn when I heard Jas scream,” Phil said.

“You knew it was her?”

“Yes, sir. I ran around the corner and saw her attack Mr. Robicheaux.”

“With the hoof pick?”

“Yes. She slashed his cheek. I ran up and pulled her off him.”

“So you saw her attack him.” The attorney turned and gave Jas an appraising look. “And what was she like when you pulled her off?”

“She—” Phil hesitated. Jas could see his Adam’s apple rise and fall. “She was kicking and screaming.”

“When did she calm down?”

“After Mr. Robicheaux told me he was going to the tack room to get something for his
face. His cheek was bleeding pretty good. When he left, she pulled free and went to her grandfather, who was lying on the ground. I ran in the house to call 911.”

Jas pressed her lips together, remembering what had happened when Phil left to call 911. Hugh had stormed back in and, grabbing her arm, yanked her to her feet.

You better keep quiet, Jas
.

Let go of me!

One mention of your crazy suspicion that I killed Whirlwind, and I’ll make sure your grandfather ends up in some rat-infested nursing home. Forever. Then I’ll make sure you never see him again. But keep your mouth shut, and he’ll get the best of care. Is it a deal?

You’re hurting me!

Say it’s a deal or I’ll rip your arm off! Okay, it’s a deal!

“Thank you, Mr. Sparks,” said Mr. Sydow. “There are no further questions.”

Petrie immediately jumped to his feet. “Mr. Sparks, have you ever known the defendant to do
anything
like this before?”

Phil swung his head emphatically. “Never.”

“And how long have you known her?”

“Since she’s lived on the farm. Five years.”
He turned to face the judge. “And in all that time, Your Honor, I’ve never even seen Jas swat a fly. There must have been something said or done to make her so mad.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sparks. That will be all for now,” said Petrie.

Hat in hand, Phil slunk from the witness box. Jas let out her breath. It was over.

“We have no more witnesses, Your Honor,” Mr. Sydow said. “The Commonwealth rests.”

“Mr. Petrie?” The judge nodded at the public defender.

Leaning toward Jas, Petrie said in a low voice, “This is your opportunity to tell the judge your side of the story.”

Jas shook her head without looking at him.

“Your Honor, the defense rests,” he said in a resigned voice.

When Mr. Sydow stood to summarize his case, Jas tuned him out. She already knew Hugh had won. Phil had tried, but unless she spoke up, she would be declared guilty. Petrie had already warned her what might happen.

“Jasmine Schuler, please stand,” the judge said.

Slowly, Jas and Petrie rose to their feet. The judge glanced down at the open file, then
up at her. “Miss Schuler, I have no choice but to find you guilty of assault. I place you on official probation and electronic monitoring. It’s also the order of the court that, since you have no relative to reside with at this time, you be placed in the custody of the Department of Social Services for placement in foster care.”

The judge looked toward the back of the court. “Ms. Tomlinson, do you have a placement for this child?”

“Yes, we do, Your Honor.”

“Fine. I’m reviewing this case in forty-five days. Until that time, you must abide by the special conditions stated in your rules of probation, Miss Schuler. Ms. Tomlinson, you may accompany Miss Schuler to the probation office.”

The gavel banged down. Jas trained her eyes on Hugh’s face, hoping he could feel her angry gaze drilling into his cheek.

Even though he’d won, she knew who was really guilty. Her grandfather hadn’t put the yew branch in Whirlwind’s paddock. Hugh Robicheaux had. He’d killed his own horse.

She just had to prove it.

MR. EYLER, THE PROBATION OFFICER, READ
from the white sheet. “You are to report to me at least once a month. The period of time you remain on probation will depend upon your behavior.”

He pointed to a line near the bottom. “Sign this statement showing that you understand the rules.”

Jas forced herself to look where Mr. Eyler was pointing. Underneath the line was a space for the parent’s or guardian’s signature. Ms. Tomlinson, the social worker, had already signed it.

She glanced up at Ms. Tomlinson. She was a middle-aged woman with a bad perm, a red nose, and bloodshot eyes. And for the next forty-five days, this person would be responsible for her.

Picking up the pen, Jas scrawled her name.

“I’ll meet with you on Friday,” Mr. Eyler said, separating the copies. He held the blue one out to Jas, who took the sheet. Ms. Tomlinson then led her out the door and into another room.

“This is Mrs. Weisgerber,” Ms. Tomlinson introduced the woman sitting behind the desk. “She will be your juvenile case manager.”

“I’ll have
three
people checking on me?” Jas spoke aloud for the first time since she’d entered the courtroom. The sound of her voice was strange, but the idea of three people watching over her was even stranger.

Since her grandmother had died, Jas had fixed meals, cleaned the trailer, and made straight As. Now she’d broken the law, and suddenly she needed a slew of babysitters.

“I’ll be in charge of your electronic monitoring,” Mrs. Weisgerber said matter-of-factly. She held up a nylon strap. Attached to it was a small black metal box. “This is your ankle bracelet and transmitter.” She tapped the black box. “The transmitter ‘talks’ to a unit that’s attached to the phone at your foster home. The unit then ‘talks’ to a monitoring center in Pennsylvania. The center then ‘talks’
to me. Every day I will receive a message that tells me if you were where you were supposed to be.”

She handed the ankle bracelet to Jas, who took it cautiously, not sure what it would do.

“You must
always
wear this transmitter,” Mrs. Weisgerber continued. “If you leave the specified area during lockdown times, we’ll know immediately.”

“Lockdown means you won’t be able to leave your foster parent’s house and surrounding area,” Ms. Tomlinson explained as she dabbed her nose with a tissue.

Like a jail without bars
, Jas thought grimly as she handed the thing back.

Mrs. Weisgerber gestured to Jas’s legs. “Which ankle would you like me to put it around?”

Jas set her left foot on the seat of a chair and pulled up her pant leg. Bending, Mrs. Weisgerber slid down Jas’s sock.

“It locks on directly above the anklebone.” She hooked the strap around Jas’s leg. “Nothing should come between the transmitter and your skin.” Jas heard a snap and then felt the weight of it around her ankle, like a bell boot on a horse. “Can I get it wet?”

Mrs. Weisgerber nodded. “You can bathe, shower, even go swimming. The only thing you can’t do is take it off. If you cut the bracelet or damage or lose the transmitter, you will be charged with a crime.”

Slowly, Jas pulled down her pant leg and set her foot on the floor. Her jeans covered the bracelet, but there was no way she would forget it was there.

Still talking, Mrs. Weisgerber walked back to her desk. “I will be making a schedule with you and your foster parent.” She held up a piece of paper gridded with lines and labeled with the days of the week. “The schedule allows you to leave the premises at certain times.”

Like I’ll have someplace to go
, Jas thought. High Meadows had been her home for the last five years. And now she wasn’t even allowed near it. She’d never see Phil or the horses again.

A lump balled in Jas’s throat. She gulped, forcing it down. There was so much at the farm that she’d miss: Phil and his sunbaked face, the new foals—Darien, Snoopy, and Jessica. And Old Sam, the dog. Would Phil remember to give him a biscuit every night before bedtime?

“I’ll meet you at Miss Hahn’s in half an hour,” Mrs. Weisgerber said to Ms. Tomlinson.