Page 48 of High Velocity

I get to my feet and hold out my hand. “Then come with me, we’ll walk it off. I’ll clean up later.”

I hold on to her hand as we walk out the door, Ash darting ahead of us to do his business. It’s a nice night, fairly warm, even though the sun has dropped behind the mountains and dusk is setting in.

“Are you taking me to see the babies?”

I grin at her eager expression. “Yeah, before it gets too dark. There’s one left in the barn we’re keeping an eye on, and the other two mares and their foals are in the field behind the barn.”

“Out for a stroll?”

I hear Thomas’s voice come from the shadows on the porch. He usually goes back out there for an after-dinner drink before he heads up to bed. I stop as we pass in front.

“You remember Stephanie, Grandpa? Stephanie, this is Thomas Harvey.”

“Yes, we met last year,” she responds. “Good to see you again, Mr. Harvey”

“Pleasure’s all mine, but call me Thomas. If you’re hoping to see those foals, you best hurry. It’ll be dark soon.”

“We’ll stop for a chat on the way back, if you’re still up,” I promise him.

He raises his hand in response.

We check out the two foals in the field first, and for the next ten minutes Stephanie is totally taken with them. Both mares are gentle and allow us to approach their little ones.

“I can’t believe how soft their noses are. Boggles the mind these are going to be big honking animals one day.”

“Won’t be that long. Horses grow up fast,” I point out. “Why don’t we head inside to see the third one.”

“Didn’t you mention four mares delivered?” she asks.

“We lost one foal.”

“That’s so sad. That poor mother.”

“Actually, we had a first-time mare who rejected her little colt, so we put him with the mare who lost her own foal. That’s why we’re keeping those two inside, to make sure they’re bonding well.”

It’s clear they’re doing fine when we lean over the stall door. The little guy’s short tail is wagging as he’s nursing and the mare is calmly munching on some hay. They look like they’re fine.

I notice the porch light of the main house is on by the time we head back, and I see Jonas has joined his father. Those two often sneak out there at night for a cigar, I can smell the smoke from here.

But when we get closer, I notice only Jonas has a cigar in his mouth.

Thomas looks like he’s sleeping.

Stephanie

Oh shit.

I could tell something was off the moment I caught sight of those two on the porch.

In my line of work, the truth is in the details, so it pays to be observant. That’s not something you can simply turn off. It’s ingrained, almost like a second instinct.

Which is why I immediately notice Jonas is holding his father’s hand in his, while smoking a cigar with the other one. The second thing that stands out is the slackness of the old man’s face. There is no muscle tone whatsoever left, and he is slightly lilting to the side.

I recognize death. I’ve seen too much of it and studied it too closely to miss the obvious signs.

Jonas’s unfocused eyes tell the story when we approach.

I can feel the exact moment Jackson realizes; his steps falter and his hand twitches in mine.

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