touched her neck, scratched her withers. She arched her neck, sniffed my head, ruffled my hair with her nose, and started scratching my shoulder. Reciprocity with no strings attached, no ulterior motives.
I wrapped my arms around her neck, closed my eyes, pressed my cheek against her, and hugged her. To experience such pure innocence and trust at the end of that day felt cleansing. This sweet horse had never been mistreated, had never been anything but adored her entire life. She didn’t know violence or hatred or the perversions that poisoned the minds of humans. I wished I could have said the same.
“Have you been in the apartment?”
I let go of the horse, turned, and looked at Landry. I wondered how long he had been standing there. The thought that he might have been there for a long time, watching me in an unguarded moment, irritated me.
“Yes,” I said. “I imagine my prints are still on file with the SO. You won’t need to take them again.”
“You shouldn’t have gone up there,” he said without any kind of rancor. His face was drawn. His tie was yanked loose.
“You should know better than to bother telling me.” I slipped out of the stall, closed and latched the door.
“Did you take anything?”
“Of course not,” I said, as if highly offended. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I don’t know procedure?”
“I think you don’t give a rat’s ass about procedure. You never have. Why start now?”
“Is there something in particular you want from me?” I asked. “Because, if not, I would like to go get out of these stinking clothes, have a shower and a drink, and go to bed. I’ve had as much of this day as I can stand.”
He was probably thinking the same thing. He’d been working this for ten hours without a break, I was sure. Without a meal, I was willing to bet. A steady diet of coffee, maybe a doughnut, or a candy bar, or some horrible fast-food beast on a bun that he would have eaten with one hand while he stood off to the side at the scene, continuing to direct people with the other hand. And now he would go back to the sheriff’s office and start on the paperwork. He still had a long night ahead of him.
I didn’t feel sorry for him. That was his job. Irina was just another DB (dead body) for him. He had known her well enough to say hello, that was all. Personal emotion would not be a factor in this for him, nor should it have been.
“What did you see up there?” he asked.
“The same things you did.”
“I mean, did it look like anything was out of place?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’d never been in Irina’s apartment before. She was a very private person.”
He nodded, then rubbed his hands over his face and down the back of his neck. The muscles there would be as tight and corded as ropes holding a great weight. His right shoulder would have a knot in it the size of a tennis ball. He would groan like a dying man if someone started to work the kink out with a massage.
I had no interest in doing that. I just knew it was so because I’d done it many times.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked, the same as he would ask if we had been meeting for dinner.
How was your day…where’d you go…what did you do….
“I need to sit down.”
I walked out the side of the barn toward the riding arena. The landscaping lights had come on as the sun sank low. I sat down on an ornate park bench. Landry sat on the opposite end.
I told him about the photograph on Irina’s laptop, the one from the tailgating party, and about finding Lisbeth Perkins at Star Polo and the things Lisbeth had told me about the encounter with the guy at the club on Clematis Street.
“She didn’t have a last name for him?”
“No, but she has a photo of him on her phone.” I didn’t tell him that I had the photos as well. I didn’t want to show him, didn’t want to deal with looking at that last photo again with an audience. “She also has photos of Irina later in the evening at a
I wrapped my arms around her neck, closed my eyes, pressed my cheek against her, and hugged her. To experience such pure innocence and trust at the end of that day felt cleansing. This sweet horse had never been mistreated, had never been anything but adored her entire life. She didn’t know violence or hatred or the perversions that poisoned the minds of humans. I wished I could have said the same.
“Have you been in the apartment?”
I let go of the horse, turned, and looked at Landry. I wondered how long he had been standing there. The thought that he might have been there for a long time, watching me in an unguarded moment, irritated me.
“Yes,” I said. “I imagine my prints are still on file with the SO. You won’t need to take them again.”
“You shouldn’t have gone up there,” he said without any kind of rancor. His face was drawn. His tie was yanked loose.
“You should know better than to bother telling me.” I slipped out of the stall, closed and latched the door.
“Did you take anything?”
“Of course not,” I said, as if highly offended. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I don’t know procedure?”
“I think you don’t give a rat’s ass about procedure. You never have. Why start now?”
“Is there something in particular you want from me?” I asked. “Because, if not, I would like to go get out of these stinking clothes, have a shower and a drink, and go to bed. I’ve had as much of this day as I can stand.”
He was probably thinking the same thing. He’d been working this for ten hours without a break, I was sure. Without a meal, I was willing to bet. A steady diet of coffee, maybe a doughnut, or a candy bar, or some horrible fast-food beast on a bun that he would have eaten with one hand while he stood off to the side at the scene, continuing to direct people with the other hand. And now he would go back to the sheriff’s office and start on the paperwork. He still had a long night ahead of him.
I didn’t feel sorry for him. That was his job. Irina was just another DB (dead body) for him. He had known her well enough to say hello, that was all. Personal emotion would not be a factor in this for him, nor should it have been.
“What did you see up there?” he asked.
“The same things you did.”
“I mean, did it look like anything was out of place?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’d never been in Irina’s apartment before. She was a very private person.”
He nodded, then rubbed his hands over his face and down the back of his neck. The muscles there would be as tight and corded as ropes holding a great weight. His right shoulder would have a knot in it the size of a tennis ball. He would groan like a dying man if someone started to work the kink out with a massage.
I had no interest in doing that. I just knew it was so because I’d done it many times.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked, the same as he would ask if we had been meeting for dinner.
How was your day…where’d you go…what did you do….
“I need to sit down.”
I walked out the side of the barn toward the riding arena. The landscaping lights had come on as the sun sank low. I sat down on an ornate park bench. Landry sat on the opposite end.
I told him about the photograph on Irina’s laptop, the one from the tailgating party, and about finding Lisbeth Perkins at Star Polo and the things Lisbeth had told me about the encounter with the guy at the club on Clematis Street.
“She didn’t have a last name for him?”
“No, but she has a photo of him on her phone.” I didn’t tell him that I had the photos as well. I didn’t want to show him, didn’t want to deal with looking at that last photo again with an audience. “She also has photos of Irina later in the evening at a
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