Part 3
She watched him enter.
“You left your truck door open,” she said.
He glanced behind him as if the door might somehow be visible from the fourth floor.
“Deputy closed it.”
“I heard Grant yelling about it.”
“That sounds like Grant.”
Avery’s mouth shifted, not quite a smile.
Wade sat in the vinyl chair beside the bed. “How bad?”
“Concussion. Three stitches. Sore shoulder. They want somebody to stay with me tonight.”
“I can.”
She looked toward the hallway. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“You’ll lose your job.”
“Already handled.”
Her eyes returned to him. “He fired you?”
“Probably.”
“Because of me.”
“Because I didn’t follow a stupid order.”
A nurse entered, checked the monitor, and asked Avery to rate her pain. Avery said four. The nurse looked skeptical.
“Most people with your expression say six.”
“I don’t like the scale.”
“No one does.”
After the nurse left, Avery stared at the water cup on her tray.
“My phone had photographs.”
“Of what?”
She pressed her lips together. “Records.”
“What records?”
“Queen’s Mercy.”
Wade stopped moving.
The mare had arrived at Ashbourne as a yearling and grown into the kind of animal that caused conversations to lower when she entered a sales ring. Dark bay, nearly black along the neck, with a white star the size of a thumbprint. She had won enough to make Grant appear on sports programs wearing pocket squares and speaking about breeding vision. A tendon injury had ended her racing career, but her value as a broodmare remained greater than the combined houses of most people who worked on the farm.
“What about her?” Wade asked.
“The treatment logs don’t match.”
He felt something old and unwelcome move through him.
“Which logs?”
“The copies sent to the buyer’s veterinarian. They show no lameness episodes since March.”
“That’s false.”
“I know.”
Wade looked at the closed door.
Avery spoke more quietly. “There were two files. One internal, one external. The internal file still had your daily notes attached until Monday. Then your notes disappeared.”
“I never attached my notes.”
“Someone scanned them.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
He rubbed his beard. His notebooks stayed in a locked cabinet in the stable office. Grant had a key. So did Vivian. Avery had access when compiling annual health summaries. Wade recorded every swollen joint, skipped meal, loose shoe, medication, bandage change, and veterinarian visit in pencil because batteries died, software changed, and people edited what made them uncomfortable.
“What did the buyer get?” he asked.
“A clean history. The imaging reports were renamed. The July ultrasound is listed as an older baseline study. The insurance disclosures say there have been no new concerns.”
Wade stared at her.
Queen’s Mercy had come up short on her right front leg twice in July. The second time, Wade had walked her himself until the veterinarian arrived. Grant had refused to cancel a breeding appointment, then blamed the mare’s unevenness on a stone bruise. Wade had written three pages about the incident.
“You photographed the files?”
“And emails.”
“Whose?”
Avery swallowed. “Grant’s. Some from Vivian.”
Wade sat back.
“What did Vivian say?”
“She asked the office to ‘harmonize the records before review.’”
“That could mean anything.”
“I thought so too. Then Grant sent me the external file and told me to certify it.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“This afternoon.”
Her hand moved toward her temple and stopped.
“What happened?”
“I went to the house because he wouldn’t answer calls. They were having drinks with the Hunt Club committee. I waited until the guests moved to the west terrace. Vivian came into the foyer. Grant followed.”
She closed her eyes.
Wade did not push.
After several breaths, she continued. “I told him the file was false. He said I was confused. I showed him the photographs. He asked for my phone.”
“And then?”
“I don’t remember clearly.”
“What do you remember?”
“His hand.”
“On you?”
“On the phone. My wrist, maybe. Vivian said his name. I was near the door, then I was outside.”
Her breathing changed. Wade leaned forward.
“That’s enough.”
“I didn’t fall because I was dizzy.”
“You don’t have to decide all of it tonight.”
“He’ll say I did.”
“He already is.”
Avery looked at him, frightened less by the injury than by how quickly the competing version had begun to solidify.
“I put copies somewhere.”
“Where?”
She frowned.
“The blanket,” she said.
“The riding blanket beside you?”
“I had an envelope. I didn’t want to walk into the house carrying it. I put it under the fold.”
Wade remembered the blanket lying near the steps, clean except for one corner darkened by gravel dust.
“Deputy Benton photographed it.”
“Did she take it?”
“I don’t know.”
Avery gripped the edge of the sheet. “Grant saw me looking toward it.”
Wade stood.
“Stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find Benton.”
She caught his sleeve.
“Don’t go back alone.”
The words were nearly identical to Molly’s. Wade glanced at Avery’s hand, then at her face.
“I won’t.”
Deputy Benton had already collected the blanket. She returned to the room carrying a clear evidence bag with an envelope visible inside. The envelope had been bent and partly crushed. Avery identified her handwriting through the plastic.
“Did anyone touch it after you placed it there?” Benton asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mr. Bellamy know it contained documents?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did Mrs. Bellamy?”
“No.”
Benton placed the bag on a chair where Avery could see it but not reach it.
“We found this beneath the blanket. The outside was damp. Contents appear intact. We’ll inventory them with another deputy present.”
Avery’s shoulders lowered slightly.
“Did you find my phone?”
“No.”
“Grant has it.”
“He says he never touched it.”
Avery turned her face toward the window.
Benton waited.
“You don’t believe me,” Avery said.
“I haven’t told you what I believe.”
“That means you don’t.”
May you like
“It means belief isn’t enough for what comes next.”
The answer was not comforting, but it was honest. Wade respected Benton more for not pretending otherwise.
