Chương 9
Adrian leaned back.
“That’s why she contacted a lawyer.”
“I think so.”
“So you betrayed her and me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s almost impressive.”
Victoria gave him a tired look.
“I’ve had eleven months to appreciate the efficiency.”
He rubbed his thumb across a scratch in the tabletop.
“Did she say why she left?”
“Not in one sentence.”
“She hated me.”
“No.”
He looked up.
“That would be easier.”
“What did she say?”
Victoria was quiet for a moment.
“She said being loved by you felt like being acquired.”
Adrian looked away.
“She was twenty-two and dramatic.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“That doesn’t make her wrong.”
He pushed his plate aside.
“I gave her everything.”
Victoria nodded.
“I know.”
“Schools. Horses. Travel. Whatever she wanted.”
“I know.”
“Do you have any idea what my father gave me?”
“Very little.”
“Nothing.”
Victoria waited.
“He gave me nothing.”
“I know.”
“I swore Claire would never have to live like that.”
Victoria folded her napkin.
“And when she wanted something you couldn’t give by purchasing it, you kept purchasing different versions.”
Adrian stood.
“I’m done.”
Victoria nodded.
He walked to the door.
“Adrian.”
He stopped.
“She loved you.”
He did not turn.
“That wasn’t enough.”
“No.”
The following morning, June sent one text.
She answered.
Adrian stared at the message.
His hands began to shake.
He called June.
She answered immediately.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
He sat down.
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Is she in a hospital?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say?”
“That she’s alive.”
“June.”
“That’s what you asked me to find out.”
He pressed his fingers against his forehead.
“Did she say what’s wrong?”
“No.”
“Did she ask about Lily?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
June’s voice softened.
“She asked if Lily still cheats when they play Go Fish.”
From across his office, Monica pretended not to listen.
Adrian laughed.
The sound broke halfway through.
He covered his eyes.
June remained on the line.
“Can you tell her I want to speak to her?”
“I already did.”
“And?”
“She said no.”
Adrian lowered his hand.
“All right.”
June was silent.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
“That I said all right?”
“Yes.”
He stared at the city outside.
“I don’t mean it.”
June waited.
“I want to call every investigator I’ve ever hired and find her before lunch.”
“That sounds more like you.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Why?”
Adrian looked at the photograph on his desk.
Claire at sixteen, helmet hanging from one hand, Blackthorn behind her.
“Because apparently she has spent a year waiting to see whether I can hear the word no.”
June said nothing.
“Tell her I heard it.”
“I will.”
“And tell her…”
He stopped.
“What?”
Adrian tried three sentences and discarded them before speaking.
“Tell her Blackthorn is fine.”
June let out a breath.
“I can do that.”
Another week passed.
Adrian visited Blackthorn every morning.
Not because he had suddenly become sentimental.
The horse had problems.
Mateo showed Adrian things the trainers had been reporting for months.
Blackthorn resisted pressure on the right rein. He became agitated in narrow aisles. He pinned his ears when unfamiliar people approached too quickly on the left.
“He needs a neurological workup,” Adrian said.
“Already had one.”
“When?”
“June.”
“I didn’t approve it.”
“You did.”
Mateo showed him the email.
Adrian had responded Approved from his phone at eleven forty-seven one night.
He had no memory of reading the attached recommendation.
“What did the veterinarian say?”
“Pain in the poll and neck. Probably old injury. Better after injections, then worse.”
“And the trainers?”
“One thought he was dangerous.”
“He is dangerous.”
“So is a forklift.”
Adrian looked at Mateo.
“That’s your comparison?”
“Depends who’s driving.”
Adrian leaned against the rail.
“What do you think?”
“I think everybody kept asking Blackthorn to do what he used to do because he’s Blackthorn.”
“And?”
“He’s eleven now.”
“That isn’t old.”
“No. But pain changes things.”
Adrian looked at the horse.
“So the trainers he nearly killed…”
“One tried to force him into a trailer when he was panicking.”
“The second?”
“Got between him and a wall.”
“The third?”
Mateo took a sip of coffee.
“That one was an idiot.”
Adrian laughed.
Blackthorn turned an ear toward him.
The sound had become unfamiliar enough that even the horse noticed.
A specialist came from Kentucky.
Imaging showed chronic cervical pain and evidence of an older soft-tissue injury. Nothing catastrophic. Nothing miraculous.
Blackthorn did not hate people.
He hurt.
Adrian read the veterinary report twice.
Then he read every earlier report he had ignored.
On the third page of one, a trainer had written: Recommend reduced demonstrations, no forced loading, consistent handler, reassess performance expectations.
Adrian had never seen it.
His manager had forwarded it.
His office had filed it.
The horse had continued appearing at events because Adrian liked seeing Blackthorn beside the Cole name.
He called the trainer he had blamed after the last incident.
The man answered cautiously.
“I owe you an apology,” Adrian said.
Silence.
“For which part?”
Adrian almost became angry.
Then he smiled.
“Fair.”
He apologized for terminating the contract publicly.
He offered back pay.
The trainer accepted the apology and refused the money.
“That doesn’t fix the reputation hit,” he said.
“I know.”
“You called me reckless in front of donors.”
“I know.”
“That clip is still online.”
“I’ll issue a correction.”
Another silence.
“You’ll say you were wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Without saying the veterinarian discovered something new that excuses you?”
Adrian looked at the report.
“Yes.”
“Put it in writing.”
Adrian did.
The correction received one twentieth the attention of the original accusation.
That was another thing money could not fix.
Lily began visiting Blackthorn on Sunday afternoons.
June agreed because Mateo was there and because Adrian promised not to use the visits to question Lily about Claire.
The first Sunday Adrian stayed away.
The second, he watched from his office window.
The third, Lily knocked on his door.
May you like
“You’re being weird.”
Adrian looked up from his desk.
