Part 5
“What happens if I don’t take it?”
“He makes the real version expensive.”
She looked around the cottage: the patched armchair, the framed photograph of Molly at twelve holding a foal, the stack of feed invoices Wade had brought home and never organized.
“I can’t afford to lose my job and housing at the same time.”
“I know.”
“My student loans are six hundred dollars a month.”
“I didn’t know.”
“My mother thinks I work at a glamorous horse farm where people wear hats and drink bourbon.”
“Sometimes they do.”
“She sends me photographs of Ashbourne she finds online.”
Wade sat in the opposite chair.
“You don’t have to decide tonight.”
“Everyone keeps saying that. Decisions are being made anyway.”
He had no answer.
At eleven, after Avery fell asleep, Wade went to his desk and removed a stack of black notebooks from the bottom drawer. Each was labeled by year. The current notebook had a cracked spine and a coffee ring on the cover.
He opened to March.
Queen’s Mercy—heat right front, slight pulse. Grant says monitor.
April.
Short stride after turnout. Called Dr. Feld. Grant canceled imaging, said schedule conflict.
June.
Swelling returned. Cold-hosed. No breeding shed.
July.
Marked uneven after morning walk. Dr. Feld examined 11:40. Ultrasound advised. Grant present. Vivian called twice.
Wade sat with the notebook open beneath the yellow desk lamp.
He had recorded the truth. He had also kept it locked in a drawer while the Bellamys sent cleaner records to people who might spend millions of dollars.
That distinction had allowed him to sleep until now.
The next morning, Ashbourne’s human-resources consultant emailed his termination notice. The reason listed was insubordination, unauthorized removal of an employee from company premises, and conduct harmful to the estate’s reputation.
Molly read the document at the kitchen counter after driving from Lexington before dawn.
“Unauthorized removal,” she said. “You carried a concussed woman to paramedics.”
“The ambulance was already coming.”
“That makes it worse, apparently.”
She wore blue scrubs beneath a gray coat and had tied her hair up with a pen. Avery sat across from her, sipping tea.
“Grant’s attorney sent my agreement,” Avery said.
Molly held out her hand.
“You’re not a lawyer,” Wade said.
“I know how to recognize blackmail wearing loafers.”
“It’s not blackmail,” Avery said. “It’s severance.”
“Does it require you to say you imagined an assault?”
Avery looked down.
Molly turned to Wade. “Call an attorney.”
“With what money?”
“The money you have saved by owning only three shirts.”
“I have five.”
“Two are the same shirt.”
A knock came at the door.
Deputy Benton stood outside with Teresa.
Teresa wore dark slacks and a burgundy cardigan instead of her uniform. Without the black dress and white collar, she looked smaller. She held her purse against her ribs.
Benton asked to speak inside.
They gathered around the kitchen table. Teresa declined coffee, then changed her mind, then forgot to drink it.
“I called,” she said.
Avery watched her.
“The sheriff?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say so yesterday?”
Teresa rubbed one thumb over the handle of the cup.
“Mr. Grant was in the foyer. Mrs. Bellamy told me to bring ice. I went to the pantry and called from the landline there. I did not give my name at first.”
Benton said, “She called again this morning.”
Teresa’s eyes stayed on the coffee.
“What did you see?” Avery asked.
“Not what happened inside.”
“Then what?”
“I heard voices. Yours. Mr. Grant’s. Mrs. Bellamy’s. I was serving the committee on the terrace. When I came back, the front door was open. You were outside.”
“Was Grant near me?”
“Yes.”
“How near?”
Teresa’s mouth tightened. “Near enough to help.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No.”
“Did you see my phone?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anything?”
Teresa looked at Benton.
“Tell her what you told me,” the deputy said.
Teresa swallowed. “Mrs. Bellamy said, ‘What have you done?’ Mr. Grant said, ‘She tripped.’ Then he told his mother to stop staring at the drive.”
Vivian’s repeated glances toward the driveway.
Not fear that help would fail to arrive, Wade thought. Fear that it would.
“Anything else?” Benton asked.
Teresa hesitated.
“I saw Mr. Grant pick something up near the door.”
Avery leaned forward.
“What?”
“I could not tell. It was dark, about the size of a phone. He put it in his pocket.”
Benton’s tone became firmer. “Yesterday you said you weren’t certain what he picked up.”
“I am still not certain.”
“Then say that.”
Teresa nodded quickly. “I am not certain. I saw him bend down. I saw something in his hand. I saw his hand go into his pocket.”
“Which pocket?”
“His jacket. Inside.”
Grant had worn a three-piece suit. Wade remembered the white pocket square, the smooth front of the vest, the way his right hand had rested in his trouser pocket. He could not remember whether the jacket had bulged.
Benton asked Teresa why she had waited until morning to identify herself.
“I have worked there thirteen years,” Teresa said. “My sister lives in a house on Bellamy land. My nephew works maintenance. Mrs. Bellamy helped when my husband was sick. And Mr. Grant…” She stopped.
“What about him?” Molly asked.
Teresa looked toward the window. “He does not forget embarrassment.”
No one spoke for several seconds.
Benton opened her notebook.
“Ms. Quinn, we’re preparing a request to search specific areas of the residence and Mr. Bellamy’s vehicle for your phone. That process may take time. The documents from the blanket are being examined. Some appear to support what you told us about differing records, but financial or veterinary fraud is not something our office establishes in one morning.”
“I understand.”
“Do you want to make a complaint regarding physical contact?”
Avery’s fingers tightened around the tea mug.
“Yes,” she said.
The word came quietly. It still changed the room.
May you like
Benton wrote it down.
By noon, everyone on the farm knew Wade had been fired. By three, half the county had heard a version in which Wade assaulted Grant, kidnapped Avery, and caused a sheriff’s raid during a Hunt Club reception.
