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“Yes. And because I don’t believe that Dustin or Ellery would have let another man die in that trailer.” The image of the truck carrying Devil’s Gambit, as well as Ellery, charred and twisted beyond recognition, filled her mind and she shuddered.
Zane placed comforting arms over her shoulders and kissed her rain-sodden hair before urging her forward, toward the path that led to the house. “You have to face the fact that your husband might still be alive,” he whispered.
“I . . . I don’t—”
“Shh!” Zane whispered, cutting off her thought. He cocked his head to one side and listened.
“What?” Tiffany heard the faint sound rumbling in the distance, barely audible over the rising wind. With a sickening feeling, she recognized the noise. “Oh, no!” The sound became louder and more clear. Thundering hooves pounded the wet earth, charging through the pastures with lightning speed. “One of the horses is loose,” she said, turning toward the direction of the sound and trying to break free of Zane’s arms.
“Wait.” Zane restrained her just as the black horse broke through the trees and bolted toward the lake. He raced to the edge of the pond with his ebony tail hoisted and his long legs stretching with boundless energy.
“Moon Shadow,” Tiffany whispered, her heart pounding with dread as she watched the magnificent creature rear and whirl on his hind legs when he reached the water’s edge.
Tiffany started toward him, all her thoughts centered on the horse and how he could injure himself by slipping on the wet grass. Zane’s fingers tightened over her arm. “I’ll go after the horse, you call the police.”
“The police?” Tiffany’s mind was racing with the stallion.
“If he gets out and onto the road, it could get dangerous. Not only for him, but for motorists as well.”
“Oh, God. I don’t think he can get out,” she said, trying to convince herself. Shielding her eyes against the rain, she squinted into the darkness, searching the black night, trying to recall the boundaries of the farm. The horse splashed in the water and started off at a dead run to the opposite side of the pond.
“What’s on the other side of the lake?” Zane pointed in the direction in which Moon Shadow disappeared.
“Nothing . . . some trees, it’s all fenced.”
“No gate?” He started to follow the stallion, his long legs accelerating with each of his strides.
“Yes, but it should be closed.”
“Good. With any luck, I’ll be able to catch him.” Zane chased after the horse while Tiffany turned toward the buildings near the house.
Her heart was pounding as she ran through the open field, stumbling twice when her heels caught in the mud. Once, when she fell, she heard her dress rip, but didn’t bother to see how bad the damage was. All her thoughts centered on Moon Shadow.Who had let him out? Was it carelessness on the part of the stable boy or . . . what?At the sinister turn of her thoughts, she raced more quickly.No one would let the prized stallion out on purpose!
Once she made it to the stallion barn, her heart hammering, her lungs burning for air; she noticed that the door to Moon Shadow’s stall was swinging outward. It caught in the wind and banged loudly against the building. Other stallions within the building stamped nervously and snorted at the strange sounds.
Tiffany hurried inside and with numb fingers, flipped on the lights, flooding the building with illumination. The horses moved restlessly in their stalls.
As quickly as her trembling fingers could punch out the number, she called Mac. Rain peppered the roof of the barn as she counted the rings . . . three, four, five . . . “Come on,” she urged. Finally the trainer answered.
“‘Lo,” Mac called into the phone.
“Moon Shadow’s out,” Tiffany explained breathlessly to the trainer. “His stall was unlatched and he bolted.”
Mac swore loudly. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, trying to remain calm. Her chest was heaving, her words broken, her heart thudding with fear. “He took off past the old barn and the pond.”
“God in heaven,” Mac whispered. “We’ve been workin’ on that fence on the other edge of the lake.”
Tiffany swallowed hard against the dread creeping up her throat. “Is it down?” she whispered, her fingers clenched around the receiver.
“I don’t think so. . . .” He didn’t sound too sure.
“What about the gate?”
“It should be closed.”
“But you’re not certain?”
