Part 6
Grant issued a statement through Ashbourne’s public-relations firm. It expressed concern for Avery’s health, described the incident as an unfortunate medical episode, and accused unnamed former employees of exploiting confusion to damage a respected agricultural institution.
The statement did not mention the false records.
Avery read it twice.
“They called me confused without using my name.”
Wade was packing his office into feed boxes. “That’s what attorneys charge for.”
Grooms moved through the aisle outside without entering. Some avoided his eye. Others found reasons to linger. Luis Ortega, the night foreman, stood in the doorway twisting a lead rope between his hands.
“You really leaving?” he asked.
“Termination usually means that.”
“Grant says you abandoned the horses.”
“I came back this morning.”
“He says you’re not authorized to touch them.”
Wade glanced toward Queen’s Mercy’s stall. The mare stood with her head over the door, ears moving between the voices.
“Who’s taking over?”
“Mr. Grant says me.”
“You don’t want it.”
“No.”
“You can do it.”
“That’s not the same.”
Wade placed the current notebook in the box.
Luis noticed.
“What are those?”
“Mine.”
“Grant says all farm records belong to Ashbourne.”
“These are personal notes.”
“He says he’ll sue anyone who removes records.”
Wade stopped.
The notebooks contained medical observations, employee schedules, vendor names, foaling problems, fence repairs, and comments about Grant’s decisions. Some of that information belonged to the farm. Some belonged to Wade. The line would be easy for expensive lawyers to blur.
Avery entered the aisle with Molly beside her.
“Don’t take them,” Avery said.
Wade frowned. “They’re mine.”
“Photograph them here. Have Benton present. Let her decide how they’re collected.”
“I’m not leaving them.”
“Then Grant says you stole evidence.”
“He already says I kidnapped you.”
“And people already believe him.”
Luis looked toward the barn doors, uncomfortable.
Wade hated that Avery was right. He hated more that she had become practiced at anticipating the next attack within a day.
He called Benton.
They waited forty minutes. Wade sat on an overturned bucket outside Queen’s Mercy’s stall. The mare breathed against his shoulder, searching his jacket for mints. He found one crushed in the pocket and held it flat in his palm.
Grant entered the barn while the mare was chewing.
He had changed into tan trousers, a navy quilted vest, and polished paddock boots that had never been used to muck a stall.
“What is she doing here?” he asked, looking at Avery.
“Collecting personal belongings,” Wade said.
Grant glanced at the boxes.
“Those stay.”
“Deputy Benton is coming.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
Avery moved closer to Molly.
Grant noticed and smiled without warmth. “You brought a nurse as a bodyguard?”
Molly folded her arms. “I came because she has a concussion.”
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“That has not prevented men before.”
Wade gave her a warning look. Molly ignored it.
Grant stepped toward the box. Wade did not block him.
“These records were created during paid working hours,” Grant said.
“My observations.”
“Of Ashbourne property.”
“Horses aren’t property when it’s convenient and family when donors are watching.”
Luis looked down at the lead rope.
Grant’s face colored.
“You’ve been resentful for years,” he said. “My father saw it. My mother excused it because she felt sorry for you.”
Wade felt the old reflex to absorb the insult and keep the barn calm. It had served him through foaling emergencies, drunken owners, temperamental veterinarians, and Grant’s adolescence. It had also become a hiding place.
“Your father didn’t feel sorry for anybody,” Wade said.
Grant looked surprised.
“He respected me because I told him when he was wrong. You only kept the half of his habits that required other people to stand still.”
Grant’s hand moved toward the box.
Queen’s Mercy struck the stall door with one front hoof.
The sound cracked through the aisle.
Grant flinched.
It was small, almost invisible. Wade saw it. Avery saw it too.
“Don’t touch the notebooks until the deputy arrives,” Avery said.
Grant turned on her. “Your employment is terminated. Your access to this facility is revoked. Leave.”
“I’m on the witness list for the sheriff’s investigation.”
“You’re an accounts assistant with delusions of expertise.”
“I was compliance coordinator.”
“You processed forms.”
“I processed the forms you altered.”
Luis raised his head.
Grant’s gaze shifted toward him. “Get back to work.”
Luis did not move.
The silence in the barn changed. People appeared at stall doors: a groom holding a currycomb, a veterinary assistant with purple gloves tucked into her belt, a teenager from the yearling barn. No one had planned to gather. They had simply stopped pretending not to hear.
Grant looked at them.
“You are all being paid,” he said.
The groom with the currycomb spoke first. “Payroll’s late.”
Luis closed his eyes briefly.
Grant’s expression hardened. “There was a processing delay.”
“Twice,” the groom said.
Wade recognized her as Dana Pike, three years at Ashbourne, two children, always the first to arrive during ice storms.
Grant pointed toward the aisle. “Anyone unwilling to work can leave.”
No one did.
Deputy Benton’s cruiser pulled up outside.
The moment dissolved, but not completely. People returned to their tasks more slowly than before. Grant stepped back from the box.
Benton documented each notebook, photographed the cabinet, and arranged for the records to be sealed pending review. Wade signed a receipt. Grant’s attorney joined by telephone and objected for nine straight minutes, most of which Benton answered with variations of “noted.”
When the notebooks were carried away, Wade felt as though someone had removed a piece of furniture from his chest and revealed rot beneath it.
He had believed recording the truth made him an honest man.
May you like
Now the truth was leaving in evidence bags, and all he could think about was how long he had kept it private.
Avery moved out of her cottage that evening. She owned more books than furniture and more shoes than Wade expected. Molly packed the kitchen while criticizing the quality of Avery’s storage containers. Teresa arrived after dark with three empty suitcases and refused to explain where they came from.
