Warnings: deathfic
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.
Feedback: Hell, yes. Deathfic, but I'm not saying who.
Past is Present
"Hey Alec, did you get your mail?" Alec paused on his way over to Hopeful Farms assigned stalls at Belmont.
He held up a couple of envelopes he was carrying. "Yeah, I was just over at our box."
Lenny shook his head. "Nah, not just that—the rest of it; your mail. Some guy from the front office brought it around a little while ago—hey, you win your second Triple Crown, a lot of people want to be your friend, y'know?"
"Tell me about it." Alec laughed; that was an understatement. A couple of weeks ago he'd brought Raven home in the Belmont Stakes for the Farm's second triple in five years. First they'd had the big win with Satan, now another of Black's son's was making them proud and it was a little hard not to let it go to anyone's head. Sure, they had a good horse, but Raven was just a horse and as far as Alec was concerned he might be terrific and as well trained and willing as they come, but no animal would ever match the Black. Not for him, anyway.
He went into the extra stall they'd been allowed to use as an combination office and tack room, seeing the US Mail tray sitting on a tack trunk and Henry Daily reading today's Racing Form.
"That just came for you a few minutes ago. I'm going to get some lunch—you okay holding down the fort?"
"Sure, Henry, take your time." It looked like there were at least a hundred letters and cards there and he sighed as he sat down to start going through them. Most were well-wishes from strangers, either horsemen or girls wondering if he was happily married or not and which he found embarrassing since they'd usually include pictures of the girls either on the back of a horse or in bikinis. He knew there'd be crayon drawings from school children who'd seen the race on TV. Another large group would be job seekers hoping to get lucky and most of the rest had something to sell.
He'd try to answer the letters from the kids, send a polite form letter to the people wanting jobs and ignore the rest. Then he reminded himself that if the time ever came when he didn't respond to fans, he'd need a reminder that bettors and racing fans funded a lot of the purses that paid Hopeful Farm's bills.
And besides, years ago he'd been one of those eight years old writing to a famous jockey, disappointed at never getting an answer. Steve Cauthern was a close friend now and one night, over a few beers he'd told Steve about the letter and signed picture he'd asked for that never arrived. Steve had seemed genuinely upset and insisted that he always tried to make a point of responding to kids. He'd actually apologized and probably still felt badly about it. Alec remembered and so now he made an effort not to disappoint people. Sighing a bit, he pulled out some stationary and publicity pictures and got started. The Triple Crown was a month ago—the publicity and attention would die down soon enough.
"You think you're riding high now, Ramsay? You're riding for a fall and you can take that to the bank."
"'Think you're hot stuff? You're not."
"Riding a horse isn't exactly what anyone would call curing cancer, now is it? You got how much money for winning a few races? You think you're going to be able to hold onto it? You keep thinking that."
"Watch your back, Ramsay."
"Horses break their legs all the time in horse racing, don't they?"
A couple of weeks later things had settled down a bit more. Henry had a string of their horses running races at Belmont and things were scheduled as far away as next February out in California and Florida. Alec had gotten back into the routine of racing when he was supposed to and then spending as much time as he could up at the farm to relax a little and work the youngsters they had in training. He was also dealing with the breeding mares and the ones who were due to drop their foals any time now. It made for a lot of back and forth, but that as fine.
The quiet and peace of the farm did more to sooth him emotionally and physically than just about anything—with the exception of Pam.
Unfortunately for Alec, she wasn't around right now. She'd taken off—with his blessing and best wishes, for a month long trip to visit her family and friends down in Florida and to spend some time with old friends. They spoke on the phone daily and he missed her more than he had words to express, but she was his wife, not a possession and he wanted her happy. Just because he couldn't get away right now was no reason why she couldn't see her family for a while.
The fan mail was still coming in but the volume was starting to decrease and that was a good thing as far as Alec was concerned. Yes, he enjoyed most of the letters and they were usually a highlight of his day. He got a kick out of them and had tacked a few of the kids' drawings on the wall of his office but he was too busy to devote hours a day to the stuff. Taking pity, his mother was helping and sending a lot of the responses now, but still...
"Alec, is everything all right up there? I miss you so much."
"I miss you, too, Pam and everything's fine—except for…you know. It's kind of lonely. I keep finding me on your side of the bed hugging a pillow and I keep having these dreams..."
She smiled at the slightly suggestive remark and knew exactly what he meant. She was having those same dreams. "I'll be home in a couple of weeks—can you wait?"
"Can you?" He sipped his coffee, his mind on Pam and how much he wished she were with him. "Are you having a good time, though? What have you been doing?"
"Just visiting friends, seeing movies—we went to the beach yesterday. You know, just stuff; I'm having a great time but I wish you'd been able to come with me—my parents keep telling me that I look like I'm mooning around the house all day. If I hear one more comment about what we're doing to the phone bill I think I'll scream."
He laughed; he was getting the same comments on this end. "I'll meet you at the airport next week; God, it will be god to see you."
"I love you, Alec. Be careful, okay?"
"Of course, always. I love you too."
"Things looking pretty good from where you're sitting, are they?"
"I'm guessing you know the statistics about how often jocks get hurt, right?"
"I heard you fractured your skull falling off a horse a few years ago. You think lightning never strikes twice?"
"I read your farm lost a barn a couple years ago in a fire. Damn, I love how straw burns."
"Alec, who was that guy hanging around here this morning? Tall, brown hair?"
"I didn't see anyone. Another reporter maybe?"
"I don't think so. Well, never mind. I want you to take the filly out. Marv said it was okay with him if we work her with his string this morning."
"Okay, fine."
He was back down at Belmont for a few days and Alec went to get the Black Lady out of her stall. She was built almost exactly like her damn, Black Minx who was large and muscular, except that she had a white blaze down her nose and four white stockings on her leg. The markings made her look striking and people commented on her appearance almost every time they took her out. She was being aimed for the Kentucky Oaks next year if she worked out as well as they hoped; so far she was coming along well and with any luck she'd make them all proud. He was just clipping the lead shank onto her halter when he stopped.
There. In the corner.
He grabbed it without thinking seconds before anything could happen and moved it out of the stall fast enough to startle the horse.
"Henry!"
The old man turned around, his eyes going wide when he saw what Alec was carrying…a lit cigarette stuck into a full pack of matches. When the thing had burned down enough it would have ignited the matches and started a fire in Lady's stall and the cigarette only had about another half inch or so to go. "What the…?" Alec stuck the thing in a bucket of water then went to the stable phone and called track security. The horses housed at Belmont were valuable animals with any number of breeding and training operations dependant on their well being. If there was someone out to cause damage, a barn fire was an efficient way of doing it.
"Have insurance?"
"Let's just count, shall we? Four barns at your farm. Over a hundred horses there. Then there are the nags you keep moving from track to track—which takes poor you away from home and hearth for weeks at a time. Hard to keep an eye on it all, don't you think?"
"I hear the little woman left you already for a 'vacation'. What a shame."
"Well, we'll up the security, that's for sure but it's probably just a one-shot. You know, some nut getting his jollies and then moving on—sort of like a hit and runs. I wouldn't worry about it happening again, Henry."
"Are you out of your mind? If Alec hadn't found that thing that barn would be charcoal right now and most of the horses in it as well. You're calling the police in on this, aren't you?"
The head of Track security was trying to calm Henry down, without success. "Sure, sure but you know as well as I do that they aren't going to find much. No fingerprints and people are coming and going all day around this place. You know we'll do what we can, just don't count on much, that's all. You don't have any idea about who might have done this, do you?"
Henry shook his head. "No, no I don't—maybe Alec has some idea, have you asked him?"
"He said he might have an idea, but he doesn't have any proof or anything. I guess we could have the NYPD bring the guy in for questioning, try to scare him, but since Alec doesn't know for sure who the guy is or how to find him our hands are pretty tied. You know how it is, Henry—'probably some fired groom getting even or something like that. It happens. I wouldn't worry all that much about him coming back, if I were you." The man left, promising to be back soon, leaving Henry and Alec facing each other in the tack room.
"I want to move all the horses back up to the farm where we can keep an eye on them."
"We can't do that, Alec and you know it—we're committed to half a dozen races this month alone." Henry looked at Alec and admitted to himself that he'd like nothing more than doing just that but they simply couldn't. No now, anyway.
"Forfeit the entrance fees, then—they're cheap races anyway."
"Alec, you know the horses need the training."
"The horses need to be protected so that they're not harmed."
"Alec, calm down. You heard Barney—he's upping security and this stable is going to get round the clock protection. They'll be fine."
"I can't believe you're saying thing—what about the horses up at the farm? We can't be two places at once. You can't tell me that Back and Satan and the rest are safe there with just the farm hands to watch them."
"And you think that if you go back up there you can stand watch all day and all night with a shot gun? Get serious, Alec—hire extra security of you want, install more alarms but you know as well as I do that we have to run these races or those animals won't get the seasoning they need and then they'll be useless to us."
"They're useless to us if they're killed, Henry."
"Stop being melodramatic." Henry stood up, finished with the conversation.
"I can't believe how lightly you're taking this."
"I'm not taking it lightly, I'm just not flying off the handle like you are—that's not going to accomplish anything and you know it as well as I do, Alec."
Alec took a few breaths, trying to take the conversation down a few notches. "There's something else; I've—we've—been getting threats. I thought they were just, I don't know, I thought they were nothing; now I don't think so."
This got Henry's attention. Alec opened the large tack trunk and pulled out the pile of letters—all addressed in the same block printing and mailed from a dozen different cities. The first few, maybe two or three of then arrived almost six months ago, stopped for a while and then picked up again a few weeks ago. Henry's hands started trembling as he read through the stack.
"Why didn't you tell me about these?"
"I thought they were just empty threats. I didn't think they were really dangerous." He'd been wrong to not say anything and he knew it but there wasn't anything to be gained by arguing about it now.
Putting the letters down Henry said, "I'll let the track management know we're leaving and show them these to let them know why. Then we're taking the horses back up to the farm this afternoon—get the big trailer ready and pack up everything. As soon as we get there I want to call the local police and let them know that we have a potential situation they need to be aware of." He looked up at Alec, still holding the letters. "Who knows about these?"
"You and me."
"Pam? Your parents?"
"No one. Just us."
Henry nodded. "Let's keep it that way for now. 'No reason upsetting them if we don't have to." He headed for the door. "I'll be back as soon as I'm finished with the front office and then we're going home."
"'Got you running scared now, do I? Bet you're going to be running home to Mommy, Ramsay—am I right?"
"So the Black is worth how much?"
"And Satan?"
"Your parents live up at that isolated farm, right?"
"You know what I hate? When my brakes fail. I hate that."
The big horse van pulled into the main driveway at the farm about nine that evening with Alec's parents expecting them and the outdoor lights on as a welcome. They stopped the van by the training barn. The farm hands having been told that they were coming and the stalls ready for the five horses they had with them. The van was unloaded inside of an hour, the van parked behind the stallion barn. Alec and Henry had walked through all the barns checked every stall and every horse to make sure everything was all right and found everything just as it should have been.
They had a strained dinner with Alec's parents in the main house, Alec and Henry filling them in on what was going on. Alec's mother was upset, of course and his father looked a little shell-shocked. "Do you have any idea who it may be?"
"I think it's that old boyfriend of Pam's—remember he was here for a day last summer? Pam told me he was pretty upset when he found out that we were together, made some comments about how he'd break us up."
"Oh, Alec—why didn't you two say anything?" His mother was getting more and more upset.
"Pam told me and I just thought he was blowing smoke, that he was harmless and just trying to scare us would be enough for him. I guess I was wrong."
His father poured another cup of coffee. "Have you told Pam about all this?"
Alec nodded. "I spoke to her before dinner. She said that Chris has been down there in Florida with his parents and that he's been following her around, stopping over at the house without warning. He hasn't threatened her—or she says he hasn't, anyway—but she said he was making her nervous so her father asked Chris not to come around anymore. She said he was pretty angry about that and somehow blamed it on me being possessive or something."
"If he's in Florida, obviously he didn't try to start a fire in New York today."
"That's what I thought but his parents told Pam's parents that he left the day before yesterday to visit his brother in Vermont. They called and asked the brother—he never arrived."
"What about Pam?"
"She's coming home tomorrow. I tried to talk her out of it but she insisted, said that if there's a problem, if he shows up here she may be able to talk him out of anything crazy."
Around eleven Alec had the cot made up in his office. "I'm going to stay out in the stallion barn tonight." Henry knew there would be no point in trying to talk him out of it, so didn't try. If Alec was more comfortable keeping a close eye on his horse, then fine.
Hopeful Farm spent the night with all the outdoor lights on, every door locked, every farm hand on edge and every alarm on the place set. The local police had been advised that there was a potential problem and assured Alec's father that should they get a call from the farm they'd be there as fast as possible.
Nothing happened, the night passed quietly and everyone was on edge, waiting for the explosion.
TBC