Backstretch Baby Read online

  He sagged against the fender, swept by bone-deep failure. He could start the cases but he didn’t want to finish them. And if success was defined by finding a body, what was the point?

  His phone vibrated but he ignored it. It wasn’t his employer. Scott Taylor would never risk calling on Rick’s regular cell. But the man deserved an update. He’d been hounding this particular cartel for years.

  Minutes ticked past. Rick wasn’t sure how long he leaned against the car, but his shaking had stopped. He drew out his boot knife and pressed the lever to open the hood. Then reached into the air filter, removed his hidden phone and pressed Scott’s number.

  “It’s over,” Rick said. “Our snitch was right. They’re recovering the body now.”

  “Excellent.” Scott blew out a satisfied sigh. “You can finally leave that hellhole and go home.”

  Rick squeezed his eyes shut. He had no home. Just a sterile house surrounded by happy families and picket fences and kids kicking a soccer ball. The boys were the worst. He could hear them playing in the street, even when his garage door was shut.

  “My plants have all died by now.” He forced a chuckle. “So I can stay deep.”

  Scott was silent for a moment. A phone blared in the background, but the man didn’t speak. “I think you should come in,” Scott said. “Take some time off.”

  “No, I want to work.”

  “You’ve been out a long time.”

  “It’s okay. I like the street.”

  “But investigators need time off after deep undercover,” Scott said. “Company policy.”

  “Must be a new policy. You didn’t mention that when you hired me.”

  “Policy is constantly evolving,” Scott said.

  Clearly the man was too tactful to mention burnout and that left Rick edgy and rather pissed. He appreciated candidness. Besides, did his boss think he was fragile? Well, screw him.

  “Fine,” Rick said. “If you don’t have any cases for me, I quit.”

  “No,” Scott said. “I can probably find something.”

  Rick flipped his knife, snagging it in midair, relieved the man hadn’t forced his hand. He liked working for Taylor Agencies—liked and respected Scott Taylor—but more importantly he didn’t want to go through any more job interviews, along with the painful psychological checks. He’d made enough market investments to retire and live on the interest, but free time was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

  “I’ll take anything.” He spoke with a victor’s grace.

  “Good,” Scott said, so quickly Rick wondered if he really was the victor.

  “You’ll go to Riverview Racetrack,” Scott went on. “A small Thoroughbred track a hundred miles north of LA. This job is more low-key than you’re used to, but it’s important. And personal.”

  Rick shrugged, then realized Scott couldn’t see him. “No problem,” he said. “I just want to stay busy.”

  “My wife’s relative has her first training job there. But Megan thinks Eve is experiencing an unusual amount of bad luck.”

  “Someone stopping her horses?” Rick asked. “Doping maybe?”

  “Nothing like that. None of her horses have even made it to the starting gate, including ours. But her boss is having marital problems, and Eve is single. There might be blowback. I’d go up myself, but she refuses that.” His voice softened. “She’s proud and extremely independent. I don’t want to tangle with her.”

  “So you want me take a day or two? Look around?”

  “No. Stay up there for the month. There’s been some theft so help her with whatever she needs. I’ll have Megan tell her you’re coming.”

  Rick dropped into the driver’s seat. He refrained from slamming the door. But it seemed Scott had maneuvered him into taking a vacation after all.

  “Sounds boring as hell,” he muttered.

  “Maybe. But stay alert.” Scott’s voice was oddly pensive. “I’ve always found racetracks to be full of surprises.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Eve studied her forlorn car, parked by the side of the barn. The little Honda Civic hadn’t moved for six days, not since someone had stolen her battery. But the tack store was five miles away, the sun directly overhead, and it would be a hot and blistering walk.

  “We can get the car going,” she said, giving Ashley and Miguel an encouraging smile. “It doesn’t weigh much. I’m sure it will start with just a little push.”

  “Too bad it’s not parked on a hill,” Ashley said, gloomily tugging at her baggy shirt.

  “You get behind the wheel,” Eve said. “Miguel and I will push.” Which meant she’d be the main muscle. Miguel was lean and wiry but his fastest gait was a shuffle. On the other hand, Ashley was pregnant. No way was she letting her push.

  “Let’s go,” she said, feeling like a cheerleader. “We can do this.”

  Ashley maneuvered behind the steering wheel while Eve and Miguel took their place behind the dented back bumper. With a little straining, and after Ashley remembered to depress the clutch, the little car started rolling, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

  Eve’s wrist ached, but she bent lower, pushing harder and running faster as the car gained momentum. At some point, Miguel was left behind but the car was really moving now and crunching over the gravel.

  “Okay,” she called, giving a last shove before stumbling to a halt and staring hopefully.

  Ashley popped the clutch and the car jerked, then sputtered forward. A black cloud spewed from the exhaust. But today it was a welcome sight.

  Eve turned and flashed Miguel a triumphant thumbs up. “I’ll pick up your chewing tobacco,” she called. “After we buy the bridles.”

  She jogged to the car, ignoring the ache in her wrist.

  A grinning Ashley moved from behind the wheel to the passenger’s seat. “This is awesome. We’re not stranded anymore.”

  Eve nodded, sharing her excitement. The luxury of leaving the track, even just to run errands, was always appreciated. More importantly, she could postpone buying a car battery until the horses earned some money. And despite losing a precious day of training—most of the morning had been spent filing a report about the stolen tack—the mood in her little car was upbeat.

  They cranked the radio, joining Kenny Chesney in a raucous country song. Eve even waved at the thick-necked guard as they passed the security booth at the entrance to the track.

  “Liam’s probably an okay guy,” she said, studying the burly guard in her rearview mirror. “But he made the horses wait for hours our first night. And that’s hard to forgive.”

  “Even harder since you don’t like anyone wearing a uniform,” Ashley said.

  “That’s not true.”

  Ashley arched a pale eyebrow. “Sure it is.”

  Eve tightened her grip on the steering wheel. It was totally true but she liked to think she concealed her bias. “It’s just that if someone’s a jerk,” she said, “a uniform only makes it worse.”

  “Do you really think that?” Ashley twisted in the seat, her eyes curious. “Have you had much experience with the police?”

  Eve shrugged. A cousin murdered in prison, a brother on probation, friends arrested on trumped-up charges, and of course her son’s father, killed and dumped in Mexico. None of the guards or police work in those cases had been stellar.

  However, as Megan suggested on the phone, it was probably smart to cultivate better relations with the guards. And Ashley had been lonely ever since they arrived, craving male companionship as well as free coffee.

  “From now on,” Eve said, “I’ll help with morning feedings. You can do lunch.”

  “Really?” Ashley’s blue eyes widened. “But you’re already swamped.”

  “It’s okay. Most of the time I’m just worrying about Joey and the horses anyway. And it will give you time to have a coffee with the guards.”

  “Awesome! That is so nice.”

  “It’s not about being nice,” Eve said, uncomfortable with misplaced gr
atitude. “Megan thinks it’ll protect the barn. With all the theft, it makes sense to be on good terms with the guards. I sure wouldn’t be any good at chatting them up.”

  She gave a wry smile but enjoyed seeing Ashley’s happiness. And it wasn’t just the prospect of free coffee. Ashley was the type who needed attention.

  “Better not drink too much caffeine though,” Eve added. “It’s not good for the baby.”

  Ashley gave an agreeable nod. “Liam says that too. And that I should get regular checkups and buy a better vitamin. He sure knows a lot.”

  Eve refrained from rolling her eyes. Give any fool a little authority and they always seemed smarter. “We’ll go to the tack store first,” she said, changing the subject. “Then the grocery store. I have twenty dollars to spend on tobacco and maybe some chips and chocolate.”

  She whipped past a slow-moving transport truck and merged into the middle lane. “If there’s no hill to park on,” she added, “we can leave the car running. Although around a tack store, there’s usually no shortage of guys to push.”

  “Sounds like you’ve driven a lot of clunkers,” Ashley said. “I know a jockey’s pay is like a rollercoaster and that you haven’t had a check in months. But at least you have rich relatives. Wouldn’t Megan and Scott help?”

  “They already have,” Eve said, her voice clipped. The last thing she wanted was to beg for help. “Besides, Joey and I have everything we need. And with this training job, we might eventually be able to rent a house.” She jammed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “I can look after my son just fine.”

  “Didn’t say you couldn’t. But if I knew people like the Taylors, I’d take better advantage. Especially since they like Joey so much. Heck, whenever I see them, they act like his parents.”

  Heat warmed Eve’s face, and she stared fixedly over the steering wheel.

  “Oh, I see,” Ashley said. “You’re afraid they’ll want to take him more? Maybe demand shared custody?”

  “Of course not,” Eve said quickly. Sometimes Ashley was surprisingly astute. But Megan and Scott wouldn’t do that. They were the most ethical, generous people she’d ever met.

  On the other hand, Joey’s father had been Megan’s only brother, and it was clear Megan wanted to be a bigger part of Joey’s life. And Scott would do anything to make his wife happy. That man was formidable.

  “Of course they don’t want custody,” she repeated, her voice a little too sharp.

  “But what’s wrong with that? It might be good. Especially since you only have twenty dollars in your pocket. And they seem like nice people—”

  “There’s the store.” Eve gestured at a horse-shaped sign.

  “Wow, it’s big.” Ashley leaned forward, distracted by the massive tack store.

  Eve swerved into the parking lot, relieved that line of conversation had been avoided. She felt guilty even thinking that Megan and Scott had designs on her son. And she certainly didn’t want to discuss Joey. Talking about him when he wasn’t around only filled her with an aching loneliness.

  Ashley shaded her eyes, peering at the sprawling building and the sign that boasted the best prices in California. “It looks awesome. No wonder Jackson told us to come here.”

  Eve nodded but privately thought it would have been better to support the small store at the track. And perhaps create some badly needed goodwill with the locals.

  “If there’s a secondhand section,” she said, “we might spot our stolen tack. Maybe the thieves are looking for a quick flip.”

  “This doesn’t look like a store with a used section,” Ashley said, studying the newly paved parking lot. “There are some expensive vehicles here. And no hill.”

  “I’ll leave the engine running,” Eve said. “At least there are nicer cars to steal.”

  She parked close to the entrance, wedging between a burly black Hummer and an Audi convertible with a bumper sticker that proclaimed polo players have bigger shafts.

  They climbed the steps. A stocky man pulled open the door. He wore white breeches that clung to his muscular thighs, and his buzz cut seemed out of place. “Good afternoon, ladies. Do you want a cart today?”

  “No,” Eve said. “We just need a few race bridles.”

  “Racing section is at the back,” the man said. “Down the steps, past the hunter and polo sections.” His eyes skimmed over their worn jeans and then outside to the little Honda spewing exhaust. His nose lifted and he dismissed them, stepping back to resume his wide-legged stance by the entrance.

  “Thanks,” Eve said, striding past him.

  Ashley giggled and hurried along beside her. “I’ve never been in a tack store with a doorman before. And such an arrogant one. He didn’t even look like a rider. Think they make him wear those tight breeches?”

  “He’s just a pimped-out security guard,” Eve said.

  “How can you tell?”

  Eve glanced over her shoulder, her mouth tightening. “I just know the security type.”

  She softened her expression and turned her attention to more important things. They should be able to get by with four bridles, especially since she was the only rider. But the bits needed more thought. Stinger was tough to control and required a ring bit, even for morning gallops. The lazy bay mare was happiest in a loose ring snaffle and the gray gelding preferred a racing D-ring with a copper mouthpiece. Dex and Dani’s horse, Tizzy, would be happy with anything, but he was the exception. Tizzy was a rider’s dream.

  “Look, they have maternity clothes.” Ashley jerked to a stop, pausing to admire some shirts with a flared waistband. She checked the tags, then grimaced. “I need some bigger clothes, but these prices are crazy.”

  She moved to the discount rack, fingering a pretty coral shirt, then pulled her hand back as though burnt. “Sixteen dollars. Even the sales stuff is expensive. And I have those old men’s shirts. They should fit for another month.”

  “I’ll buy that for you,” Eve said, remembering how grateful she’d been when Megan had brought her something new to wear. “It’s payment for staying late last week when the vet came.”

  “It’s still sixteen dollars,” Ashley said. “And you’re short of cash too.”

  “But Jackson arranged credit for the bridles.” Eve scooped up the shirt. “And you need one nice thing to wear. Is this the one you want?”

  Ashley nodded, her eyes glowing. “Yes,” she said. “I love it.”

  Eve smiled, her optimism returning. It had been a few rough weeks but things were improving. Sure, they’d lost a training day but she’d make it up. And with a little luck Tizzy and Stinger would both be ready to run this weekend, even if she was uneasy about the distance of Stinger’s race.

  Their mood remained upbeat as they selected the bridles, a larger one to fit Stinger’s big head, a loose ring snaffle for the mare, and supple race reins with rubber backing.

  “These are the easiest to knot,” Ashley said, expertly shortening the reins. “What do you think?”

  “Yes, those are the best.” Eve nodded, enjoying shopping with another knowledgeable rider. Ashley seemed back to her usual buoyant self and they’d done a thorough job of selecting good but inexpensive tack. Jackson would be satisfied.

  They walked to the sales register by the entrance and laid their items on the counter.

  “I believe Jackson Zeggelaar called,” Eve said to the clerk. “You should have his credit card on file.”

  The gray-haired lady frowned. “No, I don’t remember that name.”

  “Maybe it was his wife, Victoria,” Ashley said helpfully.

  “Sorry. No one with those names called.” The clerk looked past them, smiling at the next customer, a short man in a suit who carried a gleaming saddle with jumping knee rolls.

  Eve leaned over the counter, reclaiming the clerk’s attention. “Jackson said he’d call. Perhaps you could check with your other staff?”

  “Let me ring in this gentleman first.” The clerk nodded and reached for the man’s
saddle. “This is a lovely Stubben. Handmade in Germany. Your daughter will love it. Thirty-five hundred is an excellent price.”

  Eve’s mouth tightened but Ashley clearly didn’t share her irritation. She dragged a finger over the brushed cotton of her new shirt, adjusting the collar and even opening and closing the buttons. Eve controlled her impatience, even giving a polite smile as she stepped aside for the father buying the expensive saddle.

  Five minutes later, the clerk turned back to them. But her smile was gone now, her mouth a flat line. “You can’t buy on credit,” she said. “Store policy.”

  “We’re not asking for credit,” Eve said. “But our boss planned to arrange payment. He probably left his credit card number.”

  The woman’s face pinched in horror. “We wouldn’t do that. He has to be personally present. Otherwise it could be a fraudulent transaction.”

  Eve blinked. She was accustomed to the tack store at Santa Anita where everyone knew Jackson. “Of course,” she said. “Sorry. I’ll call him and we can figure out the best way.”

  “Yes, but move to the end of the counter, please. I have other customers waiting.”

  The security guard stepped closer, his arms flexing. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not yet,” Eve said, pulling out her phone. She pressed Jackson’s number.

  Victoria answered on the first ring, as if expecting the call. “Hello, Eve. What do you want now?”

  “I need to talk to Jackson for a sec,” Eve said, shocked that Victoria was now controlling Jackson’s cell phone. “He was going to arrange for some replacement bridles. But we’re at the store now—”

  “He’s busy with important things,” Victoria said. “And your budget doesn’t include new tack. You’ll have to wait for the insurance check.”

  “But that could take months. And the amount isn’t much. Just five bridles.”

  “If it’s not much,” Victoria said, her voice silky but no less threatening, “you should be able to cover the cost. And if you’re not capable of handling such a routine matter, maybe I should ship those horses home.”