Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary. Faye Kellerman

olde ground rules.” Lilah lowered her head. “I’m sorry if I upset your wife.”

      Decker didn’t answer her. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and took out a pen and notepad.

      “I don’t believe it!” Lilah said. “You can’t take notes and ride at the same time.”

      “Hey, Carl said I wasn’t supposed to do anything except sit on the horse. Besides, I’ve got an excellent sense of balance.”

      “Your writing is going to look like scribbling.”

      “It does anyway.”

      “Don’t you ever stop working?”

      “Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” Decker said.

      Lilah slowed. “Can you give me a minute to work up to it?”

      Decker looked at his watch. “We’re down to thirty-five minutes, Lilah.”

      “You’re impossible!”

      “Why aren’t you riding with a saddle?”

      She turned and gave him a closed-mouth smile. “I like the connection with my animals … the feeling of their muscles working.”

      Decker didn’t react. He never rode bareback, believing that even the most docile of horses were still animals. Saddles gave the needed support in rare emergencies.

      They rode another five minutes without speaking. Her ranch was much bigger than he had remembered. Or maybe he just hadn’t seen the whole spread. Like his, it was backed by the San Gabriel Mountains, but she had much more. A dusty path divided the property into halves, the trail disappearing into a thick copse of eucalyptus trees about three hundred feet ahead. On his immediate right were the fruit groves, behind them another structure that could have been a guesthouse. On the left was the garden—at least an acre’s worth of leafy vegetation.

      “That’s one heck of a plot,” Decker said.

      “I use it commercially.”

      “How so?”

      “Every single fruit and vegetable served at the spa is grown in that garden or in one of my greenhouses. It’s the only way to get quality control.”

      “I don’t see any greenhouses.”

      “They’re not the large prefab ones. I’ve several small greenhouses tucked into sunny locations. All of them are climate-controlled and pesticide-free. I grow out-of-season and exotic vegetables—just a few to tease the palate. Give my guests something memorable. I also grow tropical flowers—mainly orchids and bromeliads. They make lovely table settings for the spa’s dining room.”

      “You’ve got a regular wholesale nursery here.”

      “My clientele has come to expect a certain style.”

      “It seems like an awful lot of vegetables for the spa’s kitchen.”

      “Nothing goes to waste.”

      They rode in silence for a few minutes.

      “Well, that was a nice diversion,” Decker said. “You want to tell me what’s on your mind? We’re down to twenty minutes.”

      “Don’t push me.”

      “Up to you—”

      “Stop it!” she screamed. “Stop it! Stop it!”

      More silence. The hum in the air suddenly seemed magnified until Apollo brayed and reared.

      “What’s wrong with him?” Decker asked.

      “It’s nothing.” Lilah pulled back and forth on the reins. “My shouting upset him. He’s very sensitive.”

      She brought the horse under control.

      “What did you want to tell me, Lilah?” Decker said.

      “I’m too upset.”

      “Lilah, I haven’t got all day. If you feel I’m pushing you, I’ll call it quits right now.”

      “Have it your way!” she said. “Call it quits!”

      Peachy, he thought. What a colossal waste of time. He yanked on the reins and turned the horse in the direction of the stable. He kicked the Appaloosa’s flanks and High Time broke into a canter. This time, Lilah followed him.

      “You know how to ride!”

      Decker didn’t answer.

      “Why did you play stupid if you knew how to ride?”

      “How about if I ask the questions, Miss Brecht?” He broke away from her and with a swift set of pulls on the reins forced the animal to reverse directions, racing toward the eucalyptus grove. Galloping along the shaded trails, he wove among tree trunks as if he were barrel racing. Lilah tried to follow him. Apollo was quick—no doubt the animal was stock palomino—but she simply wasn’t skilled enough to keep up with him. He left her behind in a mist of dust. High Time rounded each bend as if she had power steering—a horse Decker wouldn’t have minded owning. A few minutes later, he slowed and waited for Lilah to catch up with him. He sat back and breathed in the scent of menthol.

      “You’re great!” she said, breathlessly.

      “Might as well get a decent ride out of this trip.”

      Apollo reared again, stretching his forelegs so high he was almost vertical.

      “Lean forward, Lilah—”

      “I know how to handle my own horse!”

      But her voice was shaky. The palomino continued to balance on his hind legs, kicking the branches of the tall trees as he protested.

      “You’re still too upright. You’re going to fall backward.”

      “I’m trying. It’s not that easy bareback.”

      “Use your thighs,” Decker instructed. “Squeeze as hard as you can.”

      “I’m doing that!”

      “Now tighten the reins and give him a kick in the flanks. That should send him forward.”

      “I’m trying, dammit! He’s being obstinate!”

      Decker stood on his stirrups, edged High Time closer to the agitated horse, dodging steel-hooved punches. Lilah managed to maintain balance, as Decker squeezed in front of the animal. He leaned over, grabbed Apollo’s bit and gave it a sharp tug, forcing the horse forward. Finally settling on all fours, Apollo kicked up dirt and leaves, then paced in circles. Lilah took the reins and once again brought him under control.

      “He’s really upset about something,” Decker said. “Let’s go back.”

      “I’m ready to talk to you now.”

      “Make it quick. I don’t like the way your horse is acting.”

      “He senses my anxiety.”

      “Then let’s switch horses. I’m not anxious.”

      “He’ll be fine. Better than I’ll be. You see, all last night and every waking minute today, I … I’ve had this dreadful sense that something terrible is going to happen. Something even more horrible than what has already happened. I’m scared out of my wits.”

      “Lilah, I know you’re not going to believe this, but it’s normal to feel that way. There’d be something wrong with you if you didn’t feel frightened.”

      “No, no, it’s not ordinary fear, Peter. I know because I feel that, too. This … this psychic communication is something different. A prophecy. I am a prophetess and am capable of receiving deep, underworld vibrations. They’re straight out of hell. It’s just horrifying!” She started to tremble. “Don’t you see? It’s a warning! Somehow, you must protect