Page 87 of High Value Target

She moved to get a plate for him.

Stan sipped the rich coffee. “Mmm. Your coffee is delicious, Maria.”

“Now what is that horse doing, eating my begonias?”

Stan twisted to see her peering out the window over the sink. It was such an odd statement that he stood and walked to her, peering over her head. “Is that Miss Wyatt’s horse?”

“Yes, that’s him, though I’ve never seen him unattended before. He doesn’t even have a bridle on.”

Stan jerked the door open and slowly approached the horse, looking for any signs of injury. Dread flooded through him, and he dashed inside and into the foyer.

JD was just coming down the stairs and turned with a surprised frown as Stan bolted up the steps past him to Tinsley’s room.

The door was locked, and Stan pounded on it. “Miss Wyatt? Are you in there?”

JD appeared at his side. “Good Lord, what’s the matter?”

Stan pulled a tool out of his pocket and popped the lock, flinging the door open. He strode through the room, taking in everything. The bed hadn’t been slept in. She wasn’t in the closet or bathroom. He tried the door to the gallery and found it unlocked.

He whirled on JD. “Have you seen your daughter this morning?”

“This morning? Why, no. What’s wrong?”

“Pharaoh is standing loose in the patio area.” Stan dashed through the French doors. “Search the house for her. I’m checking the stables.”

Stan ran down the path. Shit, the big door was wide open. He pulled his gun and searched the dimly lit stable. Pharaoh’s stall door stood open. He moved swiftly, checking every stall, then the tack room. Nothing. No clue. He moved to the door on the other side. It was open about three feet. Stooping down, he studied the dirt outside. There were drag marks that led to tire tracks.

Whoever had taken her had dragged her from the stable to a vehicle. If she was dragged, she was probably unconscious. Stan didn’t even want to think of the alternative. He saw no blood.

JD ran in and bent over, hands on his knees, panting. “She’s nowhere to be found.”

Stan straightened and pointed to the tracks. “I think someone took her. I think they loaded her into a vehicle right here. Must have caught her in Pharaoh’s stall, left it open when they took her out, and the horse wandered out onto the patio.” He turned on JD. “She went up to bed at ten pm. If no one’s seen her since then, the window of time when she was taken could be as long as ten hours ago.”

“Oh, my God.”

Stan pulled his phone out to call the front gate. While he waited for the man to pick up, he put the phone under his chin and looked at JD. “I need all the security footage.” No one picked up. That wasn’t a good sign. “No one’s answering at the gate.”

“Come on.” JD jogged to his late model truck.

“No. No vehicles. There may be tire tracks. We could risk destroying evidence.”

“You’re right.”

“Stay here, sir.” Stan jogged down the drive, keeping to the grass. He approached the guard house slowly and peered in the window. He saw no one inside and tried the door. It opened about six inches, and then stuck. A body lay face down, a gun on the floor several feet away as if the guard had dropped it. Shoving inside, he put two fingers to the man’s neck. It was too late. His skin was already cold, and there was no pulse.

Rolling the body over, he noticed a cord wrapped around the man’s neck. He’d been strangled. Touching nothing else, he backed out and dialed Chris.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Miss Wyatt’s been taken. The guard at the gate is dead. Last time I laid eyes on her was when she went to bed at ten pm.”

“Christ. Did you check the security footage?”

“Not yet. We just discovered her missing. Her horse was loose, the stall door open. I found what looks like drag marks and some tire prints. I think she was unconscious when they took her to the vehicle.”

“If she was dragged, then there wasn’t a second person to lift her legs,” Chris surmised.

“That or the driver waited in the vehicle.”

---