A Run for the Mystic by Ada Bell

Author:Ada Bell [Bell, Ada]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Empress Books

Chapter Fifteen

Shaking my head, I followed Jacob down the stairs. None of this made sense. There was no reason for Mr. Hill to ignore us in the parking lot. Even in the pouring rain, it only took a second to nod a greeting. Why had he come? Bryce and Jacob were both surprised to see their boss, but maybe Mr. Hill had an ulterior motive.

Then there was Florence. Bryce said she couldn’t stand him. Did she despise him enough to hit his car? She had easy access to hoof picks, and no one would question a vet walking the aisles. Florence and Morgan could have been arguing about Bryce, and Florence hit her in the heat of the moment. Sure, Florence said she went to the mechanic, but I only had her word.

The pieces didn’t fit. For one thing, there was no reason to think she knew how to disable the security cameras. Of course, anyone could pull a power cord, if they knew where to find the right one.

When we reached the ground floor, something tugged at my memory. I pulled Jacob to a halt. “Did you say Florence and Morgan live here, too?”

“Yeah.” He gestured down the hall. “Last door on the left. Why? Flo’s probably still at the stables, if you want to ask her more questions.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

Jacob tilted his head at me. “What are you saying?”

“Oh, um, nothing. Go wait outside. I’ll be there soon.”

“Why?”

“Plausible deniability.” If he didn’t know what I was planning, he couldn’t accidentally give me away. Or get fired for aiding and abetting. “Text me if you see anyone coming, okay?”

Jacob looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but he went outside and sat on the stoop.

I hurried to the door he’d indicated. When Rusty became a PI, he’d taught me how to pick locks. Bought me a set of picks and everything. They’d come in handy more than once, and now I carried them everywhere.

Thankfully, the hallway was deserted. Pulling the picks out of my pocket, I dropped to my knees and examined the lock. Whoever owned this building certainly wasn’t spending much on security. This lock looked flimsy enough to be opened with a credit card. Either the jockeys trusted each other, or none of them owned much worth stealing.

After a couple of seconds, the mechanism popped open. I hurried inside, closing the door silently behind me.

The room resembled Bryce’s, except there were two of everything: nightstands, beds, dressers, each with a toiletry bag on top. A coffeemaker stood on one. Both beds were neatly made. Someone had hung horse racing posters on the right-hand wall, so I guessed that was Morgan’s side.

What was I looking for? Evidence that Mr. Hill wanted Morgan to stay at the stable? Threatening letters? All of the above would be nice.

While I was making wishes, I could use a billion dollars and world peace.

A flash of red drew my attention to a small trash can between the two nightstands. When I pulled it out, the words “PAST DUE” leaped off the page.

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