Page 17 of Her Dying Secret

Josie braced herself, waiting for the inevitable question about a warrant, which was well within the Lees’ rights, but which would slow down the investigation, but Rebecca only shrugged. “Sure. That’s not a problem, but shouldn’t you be more concerned with this passenger?”

“The passenger was deceased at the scene,” Josie explained. “With no identification.”

Rebecca sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“If you have a photo of this passenger, we could probably tell you if they were here this morning or if they’re a client,” Jon offered.

Rebecca shook her head, giving him a dark look. “Jon, please. I don’t want to see a picture of a dead person.”

He pushed a hand through his dark hair again. “Right, right. Of course.” He smiled tightly and started walking toward the house. “I’ll get that list for you.”

Rebecca said, “But maybe you could describe the passenger? I might be able to tell you something from that, although…” She drifted off, looking down the driveway to where it turned toward the front of the house. “I just can’t imagine where Mira would have picked up a passenger. Were there any vehicles broken down along the road?”

“No,” Gretchen answered.

Josie took out her phone once more. “We have a photo.”

Rebecca held up a hand, as if to ward her off. “Please. I’m sorry. I really don’t want to see it.”

Josie put her phone back into her pocket. “Female, Caucasian, short brown hair. Undernourished. Very thin. Wearing a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants.”

“That doesn’t sound like a client.” She panned their surroundings. “It’s so strange. All of our clients drive here. We’re pretty far out of the city. Not in walking distance of anything, really. Right now there are three cars in the parking lot—I looked before I came out because I thought I heard Jon talking with someone out here. Two of them belong to our clients, who are out riding, and the other is yours, I assume.”

“Yes,” Josie confirmed.

“Everyone is accounted for. Well, I don’t know where Mira would have picked up a passenger, but it wasn’t here,” Rebecca concluded.

“Do you always hear when cars pull up?”

Rebecca waved a hand. “If I’m in the house. I was down here with Jon and the other clients all day. I only went back to the house about a minute before you arrived.”

Which meant that the passenger was probably not a Tranquil Trails client, but that someone could have brought Jane Doe with them to the stable and whatever happened could have transpired in the parking lot.

Probably thinking along the same lines, Gretchen asked, “Do you have cameras in the parking lot, or anywhere on the property?”

Rebecca laughed. “Goodness, no. What for? It’s not like we’ve got thoroughbreds, and none of our horses participate in racing.”

If Mira and Jane Doe had been stabbed in the parking lot or even in the driveway, she would have been close enough to the stables to come to the Lees for help. Which meant that it was possible she hadn’t come into contact with the killer here—or Jane Doe.

“Standard procedure to ask,” Gretchen explained. “Mrs. Lee, we understand that Mira is in your therapeutic riding program.”

“Yes.” Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “It’s a program for people who want to improve their mental and physical health. It’s beneficial for people struggling with emotional issues, like past trauma, whether it arises from childhood problems or domestic violence. It also helps with processing grief. The reasons that clients come to us are many and often complex. Or sometimes they’re not. We have a teenage boy who was routinely bullied at school. This program has helped him build confidence and self-esteem. For some people, just being on horseback, enjoying the peacefulness of the outdoors and nature can be very healing.”

She beckoned them to walk with her through the stable to the opening on the other side. Spread before them was a huge expanse of rolling green pastures, punctuated with dirt riding trails, that went on for what looked like a couple of miles before terminating at a line of trees. Several of the paths continued into the tree line. Josie wondered what was beyond those trees. She tried scanning her mental map of Denton but came up empty. Denton PD rarely got called out this far.

Gretchen nodded. “It sure is beautiful.”

Rebecca beamed. “Yes. Clients love it. I’ve always wanted to do this. I was a licensed psychologist before I quit my practice to take over this business for my parents. The results I’ve seen with our clients have been really rewarding.”

“So you’re actually Dr. Lee,” asked Gretchen.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “No one’s called me that in ten years. It’s just Rebecca.” She sighed contentedly, surveying her domain. “This is so much better than sitting in a stuffy office all day.”

Josie glanced over her shoulder where a couple of the horses huffed and nudged against their enclosures. “It definitely is,” she agreed. “Do you keep records?”

Rebecca folded her arms over her chest, keeping her eyes straight ahead on the fields. A horse and rider emerged from the tree line, slowly climbing one of the trails back toward the stable. Finally, she said, “Yes, but they’re confidential. I’m sure you’re aware of what would be required if you wanted access to records pertaining to our clients’ mental health.”

“Of course,” Gretchen said. “While we’re here, would you mind if we looked around?”

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