Wild Horses. B.J. Daniels

Livie opened her door.

      “I’m the only one who can recognize the man,” she said without looking at him, and climbed out.

      “You have a point there,” he said under his breath, and got out, slamming his door.

      Howard was already on his way up to the front door by the time they joined him. He banged on the door and, a moment later, a heavyset man wearing gray sweats answered his knock. The man held a fried chicken drumstick in his free hand and was still chewing as if caught in the middle of dinner.

      He looked from Howard to Olivia and Cooper, then back to Howard, his expression one of only mild interest.

      “Is this the man?” Howard asked Livie.

      Cooper tried not to laugh. Clearly he didn’t know Buckmaster Hamilton’s daughter. The man standing in the doorway also didn’t fit the description Livie had given.

      She shook her head as if unable to even answer such a ridiculous question.

      “I need to talk to you, Bob,” Howard said, and shoved his way into the house. They followed him into the cluttered house. It smelled of wet dogs, grease and stale beer. Cooper felt his stomach turn, thinking of the house he’d grown up in. When he looked at Livie, he saw that she’d grown pale again.

      He took her arm. “Wouldn’t you rather wait in the pickup?” he asked, figuring she’d balk again at the suggestion even though she appeared green around the gills.

      To his surprise, she merely nodded and practically ran from the house.

      “Is she all right?” Howard asked.

      “Morning sickness,” Cooper said, then wished he hadn’t when he saw the man’s surprised look. Neither he nor his wife had asked about the blackmail. The night Livie had been in their house was three months ago. It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together now.

      “What do you know about someone staying in the cabin last January?” Howard demanded of the caretaker. “Apparently whoever it was had a key, built a fire, drank my wine, slept in my bed...” He stopped, avoiding looking at Cooper. “I would have thought this would have been something you would have noticed.”

      He and Howard had followed Bob into the kitchen. A heavyset woman sat at the table. She didn’t get up and the man didn’t introduce her. She merely kept eating as if whatever was going on didn’t hold much interest for her.

      Bob put down his half-eaten drumstick on his dirty plate and took his time wiping his hands on his napkin. Finally he said, “That would have been January 27. Of course I noticed. I saw the tracks into the cabin the next day and went inside to investigate.”

      “And?” Howard demanded.

      “It looked like it always did after you and the missus have been up.” He tilted his head toward the woman at the table. “I told Patsy to go up and clean the place. I would have contacted you, but given the condition of everything, no sign of forced entry and all that, it seemed pretty obvious that you’d used the cabin yourself.”

      Howard let out an exasperated sigh. “What do you mean, ‘the condition of everything’?”

      “When Patsy checked the closet, she saw that your clothes and your wife’s had been worn and left to be cleaned in the spot where you always leave them.”

      “She wore my wife’s clothing?” Howard demanded of Cooper.

      He said nothing, but he felt his jaw tighten. Apparently Livie had made herself at home, as well. Then he remembered. “She hit her head when she went off the road. She had a cut over her eye. There was probably blood on her clothing.”

      Howard didn’t look appeased by this explanation. “I want to know who the hell used my cabin.”

      The caretaker looked at him just as calmly as he had when he’d opened the door, making Cooper wonder if this had happened before. “Then I suggest you ask whoever has a key. Maybe Mrs. Wellesley might be able to shed some light—”

      “Mrs. Wellesley has no idea who the man was,” Howard interrupted. Bob looked at the floor and said nothing in the heavy silence that fell between them. “I will get to the bottom of this,” Howard blustered as he turned abruptly and headed for the door.

      Outside the caretaker’s house, Howard stopped. He was breathing hard. Cooper hoped the man didn’t have a heart attack. He looked as if he’d aged since he’d opened the door to him and Livie.

      “Whoever the man is, he’s now demanding fifty thousand dollars in blackmail money,” Cooper told him. “I’m thinking I should just turn it over to the sheriff.”

      “No,” Howard said quickly. “Let me see what I can discover first before you do that. A few days can’t hurt.”

      Cooper hoped the man was right. “Maybe you don’t know him, but he knows you,” he said, and added silently, Or at least he knows your wife.

      “If you leave me your number,” Howard said once he seemed to catch his breath, “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

      He had a pretty good idea what Howard would uncover. He hoped the older man didn’t do something he would regret. “I’ll be in touch,” Cooper said, making it clear that this wasn’t the end of it. “I want this man’s name.”

      As they parted, he still itched to kick the bastard’s ass. Not that it would lessen his pain or solve the problem between him and Livie, he thought as he looked toward his pickup, only to find it empty.

      * * *

      AFTER LEAVING THE caretaker’s home, Livie couldn’t stand the confines of the pickup. Breathing in the cold spring air, she’d headed up the road toward the Wellesley cabin.

      The men were still inside accomplishing little, she’d thought. If they really wanted answers they should have been talking to Amelia Wellesley.

      The walk was short back up the road. It had felt good to be moving, to be doing something, especially after what she’d learned. The man had duped her in ways she hadn’t even imagined.

      Livie knocked lightly, but didn’t wait for Amelia to open the door. Stepping in, she found her in the kitchen. She had a glass of wine in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

      Seeing Livie, she glared at her as she said into the phone, “I have to go,” and disconnected. She took a sip of her wine before she said, “That’s quite the story you told earlier. How long have you been seeing him?”

      “I’d never seen him before in my life or again after that night.”

      Amelia raised a brow. “Would you be surprised if I told you that he’s been taking my money, as well?”

      “Not really. Who is he?”

      “He said his name was Drake, but I suspect even that was a lie.”

      “But you know how to reach him,” Livie said.

      “His number’s been disconnected.” She took another drink of her wine.

      “I don’t believe you.”

      Amelia slammed down her nearly empty wineglass on the counter. “I just tried to call the bastard. I thought I was rid of him and then you show up at my door. Do you realize what you’ve done coming here like this?”

      Livie did. “I’m sorry if this causes you a problem.”

      “A problem?” The woman let out a bitter laugh and drained her wineglass.

      “He called me that night. Yes, that’s right, the night he was with you,” Amelia said. “I was supposed to meet him here, but I couldn’t make it. Nor could I give him any more money.” She met Livie’s gaze. “He sent me a photo of the two of you in my bed.”

      “Do you still have that photo?”

      Amelia