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Rayne leaned forward, trying to recall who had been in the stall with them. He was familiar, with his tangle of brown hair and tall, slender body wearing what looked like a uniform, but she hadn’t spent much time at the stables. All she remembered was some of the girls giggling about the cute boy who tried to kiss them when he helped them saddle a horse.
At last she managed to dredge up a name.
“Henri,” she said. “I don’t remember his last name. He worked in the stables.”
With a vague nod, Niko shuffled to the next picture of Nat standing between her friends.
“That’s Trent Orwell, isn’t it?” Niko asked.
“Yes, and his sister, Brooke. She was probably closer to Nat than anyone else at school.”
He sent her a startled glance. “Closer than you?”
Rayne smiled wryly. There was no doubt that she’d been a little jealous of Nat’s friendship with Brooke. The two were inseparable the last couple of years of school. But looking back, she accepted that it hadn’t been because Nat liked Brooke more. It was just that they had more interests in common.
“We loved each other like sisters, but we were very different people,” she told Niko. “She could never understand how I could spend endless hours in front of my easel, or simply stare at the mountains for an entire afternoon. She was always moving. Like a bee buzzing from flower to flower.”
They shared a pained smile before Niko turned his attention to the last photo. “A fountain?” He looked puzzled. “Was this a special place?”
Rayne was equally confused. She couldn’t remember Nat ever mentioning the fountain, or spending time in that particular location. And it certainly wasn’t one of her best photos. It was slightly out of focus, and there was someone in the background spoiling the view of the nearby gardens.
“Not that she ever mentioned.”
Niko wrinkled his brow. “Why would Nat keep these pictures in her special box? She had endless crates of photos. Most of them a lot better than these.”
Rayne heaved a sigh. “I have no idea.”
“Then maybe Brooke will know.”
Rayne blinked at his abrupt words. “What makes you think that?”
“You said she was Nat’s best friend,” he reminded her. “And there might be a reason for her picture to be in the box.”
He was grasping at straws. And it was her fault, she silently acknowledged. If she’d taken time to think before she’d grabbed her phone and frantically searched for Niko’s number, she would never have dredged up his painful memories.
And he certainly wouldn’t be considering reaching out to Nat’s old acquaintances to get answers for her death.
Then again, she couldn’t deny her own desire to discover exactly what had happened on that fateful day. Was it a straightforward suicide? Or something more nefarious? She wasn’t nearly as confident as she had once been.
“I suppose it’s worth a try.”
Satisfaction rippled over his sculpted features. “Did you keep in touch with her?”
Rayne pulled out her phone, pulling up a search engine to type in a name. “Not after I left school. But her parents owned a horse farm not far from Chicago.”
“Yes, I remember. Orwell Horse Farm and Stud.” He smiled wryly as she sent him a startled glance at his ready memory of the place. “Nat went to stay there a few times. My dad did a full background check on the family before he allowed her to go.”
Rayne returned her attention to her phone, pressing the link to the Orwells’ official website.
“It’s been in the family for generations. I’m sure someone there will be able to tell us where she is.”
She pressed the number, putting the phone on Speaker as a female voice answered the call. “Orwell Horse Farm and Stud.”
“Hello, can I speak with Brooke Orwell?” Rayne asked. She had no idea if Brooke had married or not, or if she used her husband’s last name.
Thankfully, the person on the other end of the line knew exactly who Rayne was referring to. “I’m sorry. She’s in the stables. Can I take a message?”
“Yes, this is Rayne Taylor, an old friend of hers from school. I’m going to be in the area . . .” She hesitated, glancing toward Niko.
