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Just as Teddy had mentioned, horse breeders would pay top dollar for the colt to sire their next foal.

With two big races under his belt, Fiona’s Folly would pay out for years to come.

Doc stared in horror as Fiona and Syracuse vaulted up and over the fence. Seeing her small frame stuck like a burr to the back of the large horse made the feat that much more impressive.

How she didn’t fall off was a mystery.

Behind him, Rex had grabbed the arm of the man Fiona had referred to as Patrick. The guy, who was roughly their age, began to struggle. Rex tightened his grip, his gaze narrow. “What is she talking about?”

“She’s crazy! She doesn’t know anything,” Patrick protested.

“Involved in what?” Teddy demanded. “What did she mean that Seamus and Patrick were involved?”

Doc didn’t know the details either, but he could guess that the men had conspired to drug Savior’s Journey to eliminate the competition. Had they killed Calvin Jacobson too? Highly likely.

Still, their drastic actions almost didn’t work. Fiona’s Folly only won by a fraction of a second over Milestone Mario.

“Hold him,” Doc said, referring to Patrick. The distance to the house was far enough that he knew he’d never catch up to Fiona in time to prevent her from rushing inside, but he had to try. “Don’t let him use his phone to warn his uncle or her father.”

Patrick lunged away, breaking free of Rex’s grip. But not for long. Rex quickly caught up with him, grasping both of Patrick’s wrists in each hand, jerking them back with enough force to make him cry out in pain.

“Let me go,” Patrick wailed. “You can’t hold me. Let me go!”

“No. Please grab some duct tape or a rope,” Rex said to Teddy. The groom’s eyes widened, but then he hastened to comply.

“You might need to call for backup,” Doc said. He didn’t mean Rex needed help with Patrick, but Doc knew he might need assistance for whatever was happening up at the house. Even though he worried any law enforcement response would be too little, too late.

“Okay, but where are you—” Rex broke off the question as Doc whirled away and sprinted toward the fence. “Be careful!” Rex shouted after him.

He waved a hand, acknowledging his boss’s concern. Reaching the fence, he wasn’t able to jump the barrier with the ease Syracuse had cleared it, but he managed to climb up and over without difficulty.

Doc ran as fast as he could, praying the entire time that Fiona wouldn’t get hurt. Or worse.

Dead.

As he ran trying to close the gap, Doc realized there had to be more to the story. Why would Fiona’s memories of her father be blocked for so long if he wasn’t guilty in some way? It didn’t make any sense, and he was afraid that Fiona wasn’t remembering everything as clearly as she needed to.

Lord Jesus, please keep Fiona safe from harm!

The prayer reverberated through his mind as he ran. He’d never in his life been as afraid as he was now. Not even during the disastrous exfil from Afghanistan.

Because he loved her. He’d foolishly fallen in love with Fiona. A woman so different from him that he couldn’t imagine their relationship ever working out.

Yet that didn’t matter. All he cared about was getting to her before something bad happened.

His breath sawed from his lungs, his fatigue from going on three nights with little sleep catching up with him. The house gradually grew closer, forcing him to acknowledge the place was a mansion. By far, the biggest house he’d ever seen. Several rooms were brightly lit, but more were dark as night.

How would he find Fiona?

Swallowing hard, he forced that from his mind. First, he needed to get there. Then he’d locate Fiona and hopefully her father.

And what about her uncle Seamus? Patrick was back at the barn in Rex’s custody, but he had no idea if her uncle and his son lived in the big house or in another cottage similar to Fiona’s.

Praying it was the latter, he put on another burst of speed. It seemed to take forever to cross the last one hundred yards of manicured lawn. Finally, he got close enough that he could see the front entryway. He was surprised to spot Syracuse standing off to the side, placidly nibbling at the thick grass.

Gasping for breath, Doc slowed his frantic pace and drew his weapon. Controlling his breathing, he moved slower now, unwilling to announce his presence. He eyed the horse warily, half expecting him to rear up on his hind legs the way he had earlier. Thankfully, Syracuse completely ignored him as Doc edged past the massive beast to tread carefully up the six stairs leading to a wide southern-style front porch.

He held his breath, then let it out slowly when the boards lining the porch did not creak beneath his weight. Willing his pulse to return to normal, he slid up to the left side of the main door and paused to listen.