Page 61 of High Density

It’s pretty dark in here; the two small windows in the front and two at the back hardly let in enough light with those storm skies outside. I hear Red moving about restlessly in his stall—therustle of straw gives him away—but I head for the light switches first, which are located near the door to the clinic first.

The barn stays dark when I flick the first switch. Odd. The second one is for the light in the small hallway to the bedroom and bathroom at the back, but that doesn’t come on either. Just then lightning flashes in the windows, briefly lighting up the barn, and it’s almost immediately followed by a harsh crack of thunder overhead.

That moved in fast, and I wonder if the power is off due to the storm. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve lost power, which is why we keep flashlights and a camping lantern in the clinic just in case.

I open the connecting door and poke in my head.

“It’s just me. I think the power is out.”

I fully expect a response, or at the very least hear Ginger’s approach as she comes to greet me, but it stays silent. Maybe whatever agent stayed here took her out for a pee in the back. Although, right at that moment I can hear the rain start coming down in earnest, so I don’t think they’ll be out for very long.

I head straight for the treatment room across from me, where I keep the lantern. It gives off a wider spread of light and, in a pinch, I can still see what I’m doing if I happen to be treating an animal when the power is off. There’s a nail in the wall next to Red’s stall for ropes or a halter, I can hang it up there and have my hands free. I just hope it has full batteries.

I blow out a relieved breath when the lantern casts a decent glow. Enough to light my way as I walk toward the back door to poke my head outside and see if someone is out there with my dog. The rain is teeming, and I have to squint to see anything. One of the FBI SUVs is still parked in the back but there is no sign of life out here.

Confused, I retrace my steps back to the barn, where I make an immediate right to check the bedroom. Maybe someone ishaving a nap and took Ginger with them. But the bedroom is empty, as is the small bathroom next door.

This is weird.

Maybe I should try and get a hold of Stephanie Kramer, see if she knows what’s going on. I wish I’d thought to bring my cell phone, which I tossed on the small table by the front door when I walked into the house. I picked up my keys, but left the phone. The clinic has a landline, but my phones won’t work with the power out.

Another one of those loud booming cracks thunders, this time in sync with the bright flash of lightning. It’s right over top of us. I can hear Red’s restless snorts as he shuffles around his stall. Clearly, he’s not enjoying the storm, and at this point, neither am I. I’m a little worried about Ginger, wondering if maybe she somehow got out and took off—although I’m not so sure she’d get far with that cast—and the agent went after her in the storm.

All I can do is speculate at this point, and that gets me nowhere. So I focus my attention on Red as I approach his stall. I hang the lantern on the nail and peer over the stall door.

The horse is huddled in the far corner, his alert eyes are turned toward me. There’s a slight tremble visible in the skin on his flank.

“Easy, boy,” I mumble soothingly. “You’ll be okay.”

If JD or Logan were here, I’d risk slipping into the stall to try and calm him. Horses can be unpredictable when scared, and I don’t know this guy that well. More importantly, he doesn’t know me well, and may not welcome my attention.

Abruptly he snorts, jerking his head up at the same time I hear movement behind me.

“Tell me where it is…”

It takes me a moment to recognize John Mackey when I swing around at the sound of his voice. He looks like someoneworked him over with a baseball bat. His bruised and battered face is what catches my eye first, but a close second is the gun in his shaking hand. My own hands come up automatically, a useless defense against a bullet.

“I promise, I don’t have your cow.”

He looks jittery, almost panicked as his eyes seem to dart around at shadows. At my words his eyes slam back to me.

“Bullshit.” He gestures with his gun hand toward the clinic. “Why else would the feds be here?” Then he aims it back at me. “You found the drugs.”

I could feign ignorance, but I’m not a very good liar, and I can’t really come up with a valid excuse why the FBI would be here, so I opt to say nothing. Anything out of my mouth would probably only agitate him more.

I try to hang on to the hope maybe the agent is around somewhere, waiting for the right moment to take control of the situation, but I have a bad feeling.

Suddenly he swings his arm around and backhands me with the gun, knocking me to the ground. My hand instantly comes up to the side of my face where a sharp pain blooms and brings tears to my eyes. But I barely have a chance to assess the damage, when he bends over me and shoves the gun against my temple.

“I need those packages,” he hisses, his spit hitting my face. “Whatever it fucking takes. I’ll start by shooting that fucking horse, piece by piece. See how long your bleeding heart can hold out. And when there’s nothing left, I’ll move on with you.”

Bile rises from my stomach, burning a raw path through my chest on its way up. I wouldn’t be able to withstand any harm he puts on Red, I’d rather he focus on me, and the only way to accomplish that is to tell him the truth.

“I don’t have them, I swear.” My voice sounds funny and my face hurts with every word. “I handed them over to the FBI. Please, they’ll be here any minute.”

“You think I’m scared of the feds?” he scoffs harshly. “They’re the least of my worries. I’m already a fucking dead man if I can’t come up with the missing cargo.”

He grinds the barrel of the gun into my scalp, pressing my head hard against the concrete barn floor.

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