The 13-Minute Murder by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2019-04-15T23:00:00+00:00

3 minutes, 40 seconds

Stevie, Hank, J.D., Nick, and I wander around the massive open-air stable.

We try to look like we’re blending in with the crowd, browsing the few dozen exotic horses in their pens before the main auction kicks off.

Of course, we’re actually getting a firsthand lay of the place. Reviewing the exits. Rechecking our escape route.

And looking for the one final component we still need.

We’ll use the first one that any of us finds, but officially this part is my job. And I don’t want to let the others down. I stroll casually through the stable but keep my eyes open wide. I peer into every stall. I look around every corner. But still nothing.

As I continue my search, I hear a horse stomping and braying in a nearby pen. I know I don’t really have the time, but something about the sound just calls to me.

Part of me still has a sixth sense for animals in distress, an instinct I picked up as a teenager when I used to ride. A friend of my father’s, named Angus, owned a few horses on a farm a couple of miles away. He’d let me exercise them, as long as I cleaned and fed them and swept the stable.

I had dreams of being a show jumper myself someday, maybe even owning a horse ranch of my own, so it was more than a fair deal. I loved those animals more than anything. I came to think of them as my own.

Then one day, poor old Angus had a stroke. His son drove up from Dallas, stuck him in a home, sold the farm and the steeds along with it, and that was that.

It was one of the saddest days of my entire childhood. I remember thinking, even at that young age, it was crazy and scary how sudden a life can change—mine and Angus’s both. Not to mention the horses’. And how quick a person’s lifelong home can disappear.

I have to remind myself: preventing that from happening to ours is why we’re doing all this in the first place.

I head over to the pen. Through the bars I see a stunning brown stallion with a flowing black mane and snow-white hind legs. He’s a real beauty.

“Easy, boy,” I whisper. “You’re not the only one feeling butterflies tonight.”

I stare into the horse’s big wet eyes, willing it to relax. Trying to make a real connection. I hold out my hand as an offering. Slowly he saunters over, sniffs, and nuzzles my palm.

“Now who do you think you’re fooling, young lady?”

My whole body tenses. Damn it, I’m caught, my disguise didn’t work! Abort!

“You’re no horse buyer. You’re a regular horse whisperer.”

I spin, and see an elderly man—a real one—smiling at me with a set of pearl-white veneers. From his tailored three-piece suit, shiny snakeskin boots, and even shinier gold Rolex watch, I can tell right away he’s got money. But his demeanor is friendly. Gentlemanly. Almost bashful.

“And such a lovely one, too,” he adds, with the tip of his felt cowboy hat.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.