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“It’s really important you don’t touch anything on their table once they walk out. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need you to act normal.”
“Are they serial killers or something?”
“No, ma’am. Just wanted in connection with an explosion.”
“Oh.”
“Can you do what I asked, Zoey?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Great. While we’re waiting, could we get some coffee? We need to look like regular customers.”
“Yes, sir.” She returned with two mugs and set them on the table. Grady noticed her hands shaking.
“Nothin’ to be nervous about, Zoey. We’re just trying to verify if they’re who we’re lookin’ for. You’re in no danger.”
“Okay. You want some pie?”
Grady grinned. “Sure. Pie would be nice.”
They drank coffee and ate apple pie while they waited. Finally, the couple got up, paid at the register, and left.
Zoey hovered over the table, pretending to bus it. Once the white pickup pulled out, Grady and Al walked over and bagged the drinking glasses, silverware, and napkins.
“Thanks, doll. You’ve been a real help.” Al passed her a twenty and they headed out.
When they got back to Tri Star, Chris had the evidence sent to a private lab that did rapid DNA testing and should be able to do a DNA comparison with the cigarette butts quickly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tinsley went to her room early, faking a headache. Stan was down talking to her father in his study, assured she was up in her room for the night. The man followed her like a hawk. She tried Grady for the umpteenth time, but still, he didn’t reply. Frustrated, she tossed her phone on the bed and opened the doors to the gallery. She looked up at the quarter moon in the starry night and remembered it had been full the night she and Grady spent together. It was a bittersweet memory. If only she’d known then how things would turn out. Oh, how she’d have done things differently.
A whinny from the stables carried to her, then another. She frowned. Something was wrong with Pharaoh. He sounded agitated. Her first thought was for his safety. Why just last week, she’d heard about a stable fire in Oklahoma that had killed almost a dozen horses. Without thinking, she dashed down the stairs and across the path.
Pushing the big door open, she noticed a light on the far end.
Pharaoh whinnied again.
Tinsley approached his stall and opened his door. Pharaoh was in the corner. She stepped in. “What is it, boy?” She stroked his neck, and someone covered her mouth and dragged her out of the stall. Pharaoh whinnied again, prancing and kicking the wall.
A strong man, his sleeves covered in black sweatshirt material, dragged her to the far end of the building. She twisted enough to see he wore a hoodie, but it was too dark to see his face. Then she realized there was something between his gloved hand and her mouth—a rag soaked in something that smelled awful. She struggled but couldn’t avoid inhaling it. Soon everything was fuzzy, and she slipped into oblivion.
***
Early the next morning, Stan entered the kitchen.
“Good morning, señor. Can I get you coffee and some of my delicious churros with chocolate sauce?”
“Sounds delicious, Maria. Thank you.”
She poured him a cup and carried it to the table. “I know you like it black.”
“I do. Thank you.”
