Stalking Ground Page 22

  Carmen shifted her feet. “Javier Santiago.”

  “So let me see if I understand this right. Mr. Fiero worked for Mr. Javier Santiago prior to coming here on a work visa to work for you?”

  “Yes.” Carmen said.

  “And are you from Juárez, too, Ms. Santiago?”

  “My mother is a United States citizen, as am I.”

  Stella nodded slowly and then focused her attention back on Juan. “Where were you Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Fiero?”

  “He was here, working,” Carmen said.

  Stella shot a glance at Carmen. “Please let Mr. Fiero answer the questions that I ask him.”

  Carmen frowned, waving a hand toward Juan.

  After Mattie translated the question, his reply echoed Carmen’s almost exactly. It made Mattie wonder how much English the man actually understood.

  “Mr. Fiero, do you know anything about the death of Adrienne Howard?”

  He looked toward Carmen even before Mattie could translate.

  “Please forgive me for interrupting again, Detective,” Carmen said, her face consumed with apprehension, “but this man has nothing at all do with Ms. Howard other than to hold horses for her to work on. I must express my concern at your line of interrogation.”

  “It seems to me that he knows Ms. Howard better than you think,” Stella said. “Were you with them the entire time she worked on the horses? The full six hours during the three visits?”

  Confusion mixed with the concern in Carmen’s expression. “Not entirely, I suppose. I was riding the horses to warm them up before the massage. But the two of them don’t speak the same language. How well could they know each other?” Looking at Mattie, she held her hands out in a helpless gesture.

  “He might know more English than he lets on,” Mattie said, observing Juan to see his reaction. His expression became a mask as he stared at the ground.

  “Ms. Santiago, do you know anything about Ms. Howard’s death?”

  “Absolutely not!” Anger chased surprise across her face. Taking a deep breath, she visibly worked to control her emotions, and she spoke with conviction. “We work here with the horses every day. We don’t even go into town. I was as shocked as anyone by Adrienne’s death, and neither Juan nor I know anything about it. I’m sorry, because I would like to help you with your investigation, but I cannot.”

  Stella studied the woman while she took her time extracting a business card from her pocket. “All right, Ms. Santiago. I appreciate your cooperation. If you think of anything that might help us, please call me.”

  Mattie saw nothing but sincerity in Carmen’s steady gaze. “I will. But I assure you, we barely even knew her. We can offer no help.”

  Mattie and Robo followed Stella out of the building. While Mattie loaded him into his compartment, Stella stood beside the SUV, scanning the property and taking in the layout of track, house, barn, and outbuildings. Then they climbed into their seats.

  “What do you think?” Stella asked Mattie, as she fastened her seat belt.

  “There’s a strange dynamic between Carmen and her hired man. It’s almost like she’s protecting him from something.”

  “Maybe an immigration issue?”

  “I don’t think so. She brought up the work visa. I don’t think she would have mentioned it to a couple cops if she didn’t have her paperwork in order.”

  “Agreed. Does that boot print look the same as the partial we have?”

  “It’s hard to tell, but I’m inclined to say yes. But most cowboy boot prints look alike.”

  “If it matches for size, let’s see if we can get a warrant. There’s something about this place that makes me want to jump right in and search.”

  Robo poked his nose through the heavy mesh of his cage when Stella said the magic S-word.

  Mattie nodded toward him. “Robo agrees with that,” she said, starting up the Explorer and shifting it into gear. “Let’s go back and send the photo of this print to your lab.”

  Chapter 26

  It seemed like breakfast had set a good tone for the day, better at least than the fiasco from yesterday. Angela had shown up at the table dressed appropriately, though she made a show of saying very little and eating even less. Cole tried to bring her into the conversation but soon gave it up. He could lead a filly to water but could not make her drink. The last thing he’d said to the girls as they left was a promise to meet them after school, like he’d done yesterday.

  The morning went by quickly, and as he finished up in the exam room, Tess put a piece of paper on the shelf at the pass through. “Your lab results on Diablo are in.”

  “Thank you.” He scanned the results, searching first for the Clenbuterol screen. He felt a tug at his stomach as he read the number, seeing it was well above therapeutic level. Shit. Trace was right—this horse was evidently toxic from dosing with Clenbuterol. And this blood had been drawn several days after Carmen presumably stopped dosing the poor horse. How high would the number have been if he’d tested for it on the first day?

  “Did we get that medication order I put in this morning?” he asked Tess, referring to the drug Trace had recommended to counteract the adrenergic effects of the Clenbuterol.

  “Yes, the pharmacy courier just dropped it off.”

  “I need to take it with me. I’ll grab some lunch, go up to Dark Horse Stable, and be back by three to meet the kids when they come home from school. Office hours again from four ’til six?”

  “You caught a break today. They’re only ’til five.”

  “Great. Feel free to go home when you’ve finished your work here.”

  Cole drove down the lane to the house. After parking in front, he dashed in to grab a late lunch. Mrs. Gibbs had already made a sandwich for him, and she was setting it on the table when he entered the kitchen.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Gibbs,” he said, going to the fridge to grab a soda. “I appreciate you more than I can say. I’m on the run, but I plan to be back in time to meet the kids after school. Office hours are only until five today, so I shouldn’t be late for dinner like I was yesterday.”

  Mrs. Gibbs came to the table and took a seat opposite from him. Cole knew she wanted to say something, but he didn’t have the time to sit and wait for it. She’d have to say her piece while he ate.

  “I know our young miss is still angry with me. I’m afraid she doesn’t want me here,” Mrs. Gibbs said.

  “I think she’s more mad at me right now than she is at you. Today was a little better than yesterday. Maybe she’ll have cooled off by this afternoon.”

  She rested her chin on her hand, evidently pondering that for a moment. “Maybe so. I want to work through this, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome if it’s not working out for you.”

  “I hope you’re not thinking of leaving us.”

  “What I’m saying is, I can leave if you think I’m creating more grief for Angela than it’s worth.”

  Cole sat back in his chair, finishing up the last bite of the sandwich that he’d just inhaled. “Let’s put it this way: you’re worth a lot to me. Our house is running smoothly, for the most part. If this puts too much stress on you, I’d understand if you wanted to leave. But I’d hate to see you go.”

  “Ach! I raised two daughters, you know. I’m used to their hysterics. But I do worry about Angela and wonder where her head is in all this turmoil she’s facing.”

  “I do, too. In fact, I think I’ll talk to her school counselor about it. See if she has any advice for me.”

  Mrs. Gibbs face lit. “That’s a fine idea. She might help us with a way to connect with her.”

  Cole stood up from the table, picking up his soda can to take with him. “I’m sorry I have to eat and run, but I better get on the road if I’m going to get back by three. I’ll call if something comes up and I can’t make it. I promised Angela that I would last night, and I intend to keep that promise. I might not be able to spend as much time here at home as I’d like, but I can at least keep you p
osted if something comes up to change my schedule.”

  Mrs. Gibbs stood, following him to the sink as he carried his plate to it. “Raising children is not easy, Dr. Walker, and I can see you’re working hard at it. You’re doing a fine job. You should know that.”

  Cole paused a moment before going out the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Gibbs. I appreciate you saying that. Sometimes I feel like I can’t win for losing.”

  She chuckled. “Some days are like that, I think. See you at three.”

  As Cole climbed into the truck, he counted his lucky stars. He’d found a diamond in Mrs. Gibbs. He hoped he could work through this rough patch with Angela and keep them both happy.

  *

  The hard plastic chair supported Mattie as she slumped down at the table with Stella and the sheriff. Robo circled and lay down at her side. Things weren’t going quite as they’d expected.

  “Ramon Vasquez passed the lie-detector test with flying colors,” Stella said. “That alone doesn’t prove he’s innocent, but I also heard back from my lab. The boot print we have on file doesn’t look like a match for either pair of boots we sent in.”

  “He might have disposed of the boots he wore at the gravesite,” McCoy said.

  “True. But my tech said his boots both appear to be wider through the toe than the partial Mattie found. They still haven’t compared the print we just sent in for Fiero. They’ll get to it as soon as they can.”

  “So we don’t have enough hard evidence to press charges against Vasquez for Adrienne Howard’s murder,” McCoy said. “We’ll have to set him free.”

  “What about the bow we found at his place?” Mattie asked.

  “The medical examiner believes it could be the weapon if it was used at close range, but he can’t testify that it was the exact cause of death. We don’t have the arrow that killed her, so we can’t match it to his supply.”

  “Jack Kelly from Green Thumb Organics learned about Adrienne’s death from Jim Cameron,” Mattie said. “And he confirmed that he’s the one who broke the news to Vasquez. He says Ramon took it hard.”

  The door opened in the back of the room, and Mattie turned to see who it was. Brody, frustration wrapped around him like a cloak, entered the room and approached the table.

  “I need to talk to you. All of you,” Brody said, his eyes an icy blue that sent a chill through Mattie when they touched her.

  “What do you want to say, Deputy?” McCoy asked.

  “You can’t shut me out like this. I need to be a part of this investigation.”

  “After your behavior yesterday, I think it’s best that you be excluded from these briefings,” Stella said, locking eyes with Brody. “I’ll meet with you afterwards to update you.”

  “That’s bullshit. My duty logs and GPS covered my alibi, so I’m off the suspect list. I can help.” His eyes softened slightly as he turned away from Stella to appeal to the sheriff.

  “I need to help. I’ll control my temper.”

  Stella waved a hand toward Mattie. “And that’s why Deputy Cobb has a black eye? Because you were able to control your temper?”

  Mattie needed to speak up. “Chief Deputy Brody didn’t mean to hurt me. I think he deserves a second chance. Keeping him out of the loop only leads to misunderstandings.”

  Brody threw Mattie a grateful glance before turning back to Stella. “All I can do is prove to you I can stay in control. Not knowing the full picture on this is driving me crazy. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn right it won’t happen again,” Stella said, staring him down. “What’s your opinion, Sheriff?”

  Mattie realized that deferring to the sheriff was a way for the detective to back off while saving face. Maybe it meant something to Stella when Mattie had vouched for Brody.

  Sheriff McCoy studied the chief deputy in silence while Brody met McCoy’s gaze without animosity.

  McCoy finally spoke. “Do I have your word that you’ll behave with the conduct expected from an officer of your caliber, Chief Deputy Brody?”

  “Yes, sir,” Brody said.

  McCoy continued to examine Brody for another drawn-out minute. “Detective LoSasso, I believe this man deserves to know,” he said, finally coming to a decision. “Take a seat here at the table.”

  Robo had been watching the entire exchange while lying at Mattie’s feet, ears pricked and mouth open in a slight pant. Her dog didn’t seem to miss much when emotions were high, and arguing tended to create stress for him. In reality, she might have to admit that arguments caused stress for her, and her feelings went right to Robo. She was glad she’d taken the time after work yesterday to assure him that Brody meant her no harm, and he’d stayed out of the mix during the discussion. Robo was also proving himself capable of conduct becoming of an officer.

  Brody leaned against the table behind them. “Thank you, Sheriff. I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m sure you won’t,” McCoy said.

  “You’d better not, that’s all I can say,” Stella said, crossing her arms and closing the subject. “Brody, we’re going to have to release Vasquez. Not enough evidence and we can’t tie in the bow as the murder weapon.”

  Brody set his jaw and nodded.

  “The polygraph confirmed the information that he’s given us about the Howard family dynamics. Do you know anything more about this?”

  “Adrienne didn’t talk about her family. I didn’t know anything about them prior to her death.” Brody crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table, a relaxed posture that Mattie knew was all show. Beneath it lurked a temperament that was wound pretty tight.

  “We’re working on another suspect,” Mattie said. “Juan Fiero at Dark Horse Stable. Did Adrienne mention him or her work there?”

  Brody shook his head. “What made you look at him?”

  “Phone calls on Adrienne’s call list led us to the stable. Robo’s nose, and I guess Mattie’s too, led us to him,” Stella said.

  Mattie explained about the cigarette butt and boot print. “Stella questioned both of them, and it seemed like Santiago was protecting Fiero from something.”

  “Fiero doesn’t speak English, so Mattie translated. His story didn’t quite match up to Santiago’s. He seemed to know Adrienne better than his boss thought he could. She seemed to think the language barrier would get in the way.”

  Brody’s eyebrows rose. “Adrienne spoke Spanish.”

  Mattie’s mind jumped to the next conclusion: Fiero and Adrienne had visited with each other while Carmen exercised the horses.

  “Adrienne was fluent in Spanish,” Brody continued.

  “And I had the impression that Fiero knew more English than he was letting on,” Mattie said. “The two of them could have definitely held conversations. Conversations that didn’t include his boss.”

  Brody nodded, apparently taking in the information and thinking it through. Moving out of his relaxed pose, he straightened, and Mattie could feel the tension rolling through him. “What do you suggest we do next?” he asked in a calm voice.

  “We sent the boot print photo to our CSI unit to compare with the partial Mattie found at the crime scene,” Stella said. “We should hear back on that any minute. If it matches for shape or size, we’ll try to get a search warrant and go back to Dark Horse to take a look.”

  Chapter 27

  While Cole drove up into the mountains toward Dark Horse Stable, his thoughts turned to Carmen. What was he going to say to the trainer? He needed to confront her on the issue of dosing and let her know that he planned to report her to the racing commission. No one should be allowed to do this to a horse and get away with it.

  He began to wish he’d asked Tess to ride along and make this call with him. He couldn’t predict how Carmen would react, especially after she’d made a pass at him. It seemed silly, but a veterinarian became vulnerable when working alone on house calls without a witness.

  He also imagined that she might deny the accusation. If so, he’d have
to do the best he could to document the conversation. Well, he didn’t have time to change the situation now. The log arch that marked Dark Horse was a welcome sight; he could quit thinking about the confrontation and get on with it.

  After parking, he gathered his equipment and the new medication, walked past the barking Bruno, and entered the barn. For a change, no one was waiting for him. He paused outside Diablo’s stall, remembering the other horse down at the end. He wondered if that red chestnut, like Diablo, had been dosed with the concentrated form of Clenbuterol. He placed his kit beside the stall door and hurried down the alley.

  When he reached the last stall on the left, he peeked over the door. What he saw confirmed his suspicion and made him sick to his stomach. The gorgeous red thoroughbred trudged along a worn path that was about six inches lower than the rest of the bedding. He’d obviously been circling like this for days. His sweat-drenched coat appeared dull and lifeless. His sunken eyes spoke volumes, delivering a message of fatigue and anxiety.

  Good God, why didn’t I come down and check on this horse sooner?

  “Doctor!” Carmen called from only about ten feet away, making Cole jump. He hadn’t realized she was behind him. “What are you doing?”

  Cole faced her. “I ran a test on Diablo’s blood for Clenbuterol. It came back positive. You’re dosing these horses.”

  A variety of expressions chased across her face: surprise, anger, deception. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do. Frog juice.”

  “Frog juice?”

  “I brought the proper medication to counteract Clenbuterol toxicity. We need to get Diablo started on it. And you need to stop dosing this chestnut horse right now,” Cole said, and he walked toward Diablo’s stall.

  She remained silent while he picked up his things, and she followed him inside the box stall. Diablo was lying down, an emaciated version of the horse he’d been a few days ago. The easy boots were in place on his feet; plentiful grass hay wisped over the edge of his feeder.

  “Has he stopped eating?” Cole asked.

  “Pretty much.” Now she seemed shut down and sullen.