Red After Dark (Blackwood Security #13) - Elise Noble Page 0,27

years old.”

“I’m surprised he’s not in prison. Didn’t he get court-martialled?”

“As I said, he had allies. He’d managed to find himself a team whose views aligned with his, namely that people from countries like Syria should be treated as vermin, and they all agreed that the refugees had opened fire first. And since the Syrians were dead, there was nobody around to contradict Ridley and his band of thugs.”

“Did the Syrians have weapons?”

“Conveniently, the guns were deemed to have sunk.”

“Nobody questioned that?” Alaric asked.

“Ridley’s allegiances went up the chain as well as down. I wasn’t sorry to leave that world. Fast-forward to his ‘honourable’ discharge, and he moved his mercenary operation into the private sector. Rumour says his new crew shot a civilian family in Afghanistan the year before last. Again, no witnesses.”

“So what you’re saying is wear body armour?”

“I’m saying watch your back or you might find a bullet in it.”

I wasn’t too keen on this new development. Last week had taught me that Alaric’s job wasn’t the safest in the world, but there was a big difference between facing off against a spurned lover armed with a kitchen knife and being stalked by a trained killer. We’d only come to America to look for a freaking painting.

But Alaric didn’t seem fazed. “I’ll take that under advisement. Are you sticking around?”

“For a few days at least.”

“What about Sky?” Emmy asked. “You said you’d get her training started.”

“I delegated to Rafael. It’ll be character-building for him. I also drove through the night, so I need to get my head down for a couple of hours, and then I’ll join you two when you visit O’Shaughnessy. Unless Alaric’s too busy chasing paintings to go?”

Black’s tone said he’d be more than happy if Alaric stayed behind. Where did the animosity come from?

“I’ll be there.”

“Have fun at the horse farm.”

Black had made his disdain clear on the last two words, and I wasn’t sure I liked him much either. What was wrong with a horse farm?

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offered, more to annoy Black than anything. I already had my orders—monitor the company emails and send a holding message to each person until I could speak to Alaric. Start the search for summer holiday accommodation, a nice house so Rune could stay with Alaric while she was off school. Ensure there was food for dinner. Let the dog out.

But to my surprise, Alaric nodded.

“As it happens, there might be. Harriet lost some of her staff, and she can’t afford to replace them. How do you feel about helping out with the horses for an hour or two?”

If I couldn’t spend time with my own horse, the next best thing was pottering about with other people’s. A morning at a ranch sounded fascinating. How did they do things in Kentucky?

“I’d love to lend a hand. Just let me grab a pair of boots.”

CHAPTER 11 - BETHANY

“THIS IS YOUR dog?” Harriet asked.

Not really, so it seemed safest to avoid the question. “She’s called Barkley. You don’t mind us bringing her, do you? Otherwise she’d be left on her own.”

“I love dogs. Samson, our blue heeler, he passed away two months ago.” There was an air of sadness about Harriet, hardly surprising given the circumstances. “It feels like I’m losing everything.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my words totally inadequate.

Harriet led us into the kitchen at Lone Oak Farm, where a bunch of devices were laid out on the huge kitchen table—two mobile phones, a laptop, an iPad, plus a notepad full of wobbly handwriting, most of it barely legible. On the way over, Dan had told me she planned to check through them for clues.

“Here’s everything I could find,” Harriet told us.

“What are all the notes?” Dan asked.

“That’s Daddy’s jotter. He kept it on his nightstand. If he wrote anything down in recent weeks, it’ll be on there.” Harriet peeled a Post-it note off a pad and stuck it onto the scarred wood beside the jotter. “And these are the passwords. I’ve already been through everything myself, and I can’t see anything unusual, but feel free to look again. Are you here to help Daniela?” she asked me.

“Oh, no, I’m not an investigator. Actually, I’m here to help you, if you’d like me to. Alaric thought you might need a hand with the horses?”

“You know horses?”

“I have my own back in England. A dressage horse. His name’s Chaucer.”

“We don’t do much in the way of fancy stuff here. Most of our