"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep.
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day"
***
Lisa snapped awake with a jerk, heart pounding. She had been dreaming that Sam was trying to tell her something. Her friend had been laid out in her coffin at the funeral home, and Lisa had bent closer to her to hear the message. Suddenly, arms had grabbed her from behind, and the funeral home staff, thinking she was another dead body, were placing her in her own coffin. Lisa desperately tried to explain that she was still alive, but she had lost all power of movement. They pushed her down into the coffin as the lid started to close.
Actually, the pressure was still on her chest, even though she was awake now. She opened her eyes and looked straight down at Ruth, arranged like a miniature sphinx on her chest, purring lustily. Ruth did not often have an opportunity to enjoy a human pillow at night. "Don't do that," Lisa protested, while her hand went down to massage the cat's ears. "Do you have any idea what you made me dream?" Ruth squeezed her eyes shut in catly indifference, still purring.
With a slight groan, Lisa settled back on the couch in the feed room. She hadn't really meant to sleep here all night, had just stretched out for a minute's rest before driving home. She glanced at Sam's watch, which she was still wearing. Yep, all night. It was now 5:30. She stretched out the sore points in her muscles gingerly while still lying there. Doing the basic chores at the barn had taken two hours, morning and night, with two people. That left eight hours for one person alone, and at the end of that, there were still 20 horses to be exercised. Two days of doing it alone had worn Lisa to the edge of exhaustion, even using the lunge line mostly to work the horses instead of riding. Of course, the boarders would help eventually, at least with exercising their own horses. So many were on vacation right now, and Lisa had cancelled all lessons until after Christmas.
She had spent yesterday thinking things through while working, the sheer volume of the workload forcing her to be practical in spite of her grief. The business was hers alone now. Absolutely everything here was paid off. Her business now, to make a success or a failure. Sam would no longer be there like Santa Claus to bail them out over tough times. Still, she thought it could be done. She was advanced enough herself now that she was teaching lessons, and the boarding business was profitable. The barn had been in the black for two years running. She had to get some help, though. She had called a few people last night, friends and boarders who she knew weren't totally bogged down with work and responsibilities themselves, and offered them part-time jobs. One of them would come the day after Christmas and help her for two weeks, until college started again, but so many people were out of town at the moment, she hadn't been able to make any progress past that. At least in a few days, she would have some temporary assistance. This is the 22nd, she thought, adding it up mentally. Hang on until the end of the week, Lisa. And Sam, if you're up there, send me some permanent help. I'm not quitting, but I can't do this alone.
She rolled over and swung her feet to the ground, dislodging the cat, who gave her a disapproving glare and stalked off. Might as well get started early on the day. She scrambled to her feet and opened the grain bin, starting to fill the feeding cart.
The horses whinnied and scrambled eagerly in their stalls as the wheeled cart started to roll down the aisle. Lisa smiled to herself in spite of the sore muscles. Their unfailing welcome always soothed her. Of course, she knew it was the food they anticipated now, but they were always glad to see her, and they never cared if she looked like she had slept in the feed room all night. She wheeled the cart back to the feed room, fed Ruth, and returned to the main aisle. She leaned against the wall for a minute and closed her eyes, just listening to the even, contented munch. It smoothed the frayed edges off her soul. She often thought that tapes of horses eating should be sold as therapy. This had Valium beat a mile.
She opened her eyes and wandered most of the way down the aisle. This was where Sam had died. Why? She wanted to shake the criminals and drag some reason out of them. Then see them punished, of course, but she did want a reason, too. She would have given you that ring. You didn't have to shoot her.
She recreated the scene in her mind. Sam had come down the aisle from the other end, coming from the arena. There had been strangers in the aisle, looking for the ring. Never put off by anyone, she would have immediately introduced herself. Probably they met at about the halfway point, meeting her as she was coming toward them. She would have asked about the ring promptly. Then what? Why shoot her? Why not just claim it? Something else must have happened, Caine had said. The shooter was 10 feet from Sam. The exchange might even have already taken place.
Lisa crossed to Chrissy's stall, looking to her horse for inspiration. The mare had her muzzle buried in the feed bucket, but she raised it for a minute, looking back at Lisa with calm, trusting inquiry. Are we going to do something? Chrissy would rather work than eat, even. "Finish your breakfast," said Lisa. Chrissy still watched her for a second longer, then turned back to the grain. Lisa admired her for a moment. The bay coat was shining, the muscles of her jaws sliding easily underneath it, the ears relaxed but still half focused on Lisa, ready to catch any change of agenda.
Lisa abruptly stiffened and whirled around, staring directly across the aisle. Valentine, a much faster eater, was already finished with his breakfast. He had his head over his stall door, his own ears focused on her calmly. Valentine's stall, directly across from Chrissy's, directly across from the scene of the murder. And suddenly, Lisa knew exactly why Sam had died.
***
The kitchen phone rang, and Calleigh, hovering under the edge of consciousness, groaned and considered ignoring it. The ringer on the bedroom phone was still turned off from yesterday morning. It was too much effort to get up and move. The machine could get it.
It wasn't, though. The ringing persisted. Horatio stirred slightly himself, and Calleigh reluctantly got up, hoping to grant him a little more sleep. She swung the bedroom door shut as she went out. She picked up the kitchen phone with a grumbled hello and found herself talking to the dial tone, while the ringing continued. Her sleep-soaked brain finally started to function. She hung up the phone and picked up Horatio's cell phone from the counter where he had left it last night. "Hello," she snapped.
There was a pause of several seconds. "Hello," Calleigh repeated. Come on, if you're going to ring 15 times, at least stay on the line.
"Mrs. Caine?" The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it for a minute.
"Yes." Claiming Horatio's name soothed a bit of the edge off her tone. She still enjoyed calling herself that.
"This is Lisa Wilson."
Calleigh stiffened up instantly, reflexively. Even if nothing was going on from Horatio's point of view, Lisa had thought about it. Calleigh was sure of that. Her faith in Horatio was rock solid again, but she didn't have to like this little tramp. "May I help you?" she said coldly.
Another pause. "Um, is Mr. Caine there?"
"He's still asleep. I'd be glad to give him a message." She'd like to give Lisa a message, but the southern courtesy drilled into her prevented her from direct attack.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think how early it was."
Calleigh looked at her own watch. "It's 6:15. Did you have a message you want to give me?"
Lisa hesitated so long Calleigh wondered if she had hung up. "Um, could you just tell him that I have some new information on the case?"
"I'll give him the message." She would, too. Duty overrode feelings.
"Thank you," Lisa said softly. "I'm sorry I disturbed you." She hung up, leaving Calleigh suddenly feeling guilty again. I have nothing to apologize to Lisa for, she told herself firmly. She would give Horatio the message, though.
Calleigh started making coffee, putting off waking him up as long as she could. She would have liked to let him sleep in again, but he would never forgive her for it. Not two mornings in a row. She started planning the day ahead, but she still couldn't shake that nagging feeling of guilt about Lisa, like she had just struck a child. Determinedly, she shoved it from her mind. And did it again, and yet again, while she fixed breakfast. Finally, she decided to salve her conscience by being especially nice to Horatio, who did deserve an apology, even if he didn't know it. She fixed them each a plate and arranged them side by side on a tray. It didn't really leave room for the coffee cups; she would have to come back for those.
She pushed the bedroom door open again and tiptoed in, then carefully, softly set the tray with the plates on the bed right beside his face, about six inches from his nose. She straightened up and admired him silently for a moment, resisting (with difficulty) the temptation to smooth a stray lock of red hair back into place. Nothing happened for several seconds, then Horatio's nose twitched slightly and he stirred. Calleigh tiptoed back into the kitchen, returning with the two coffee cups. His eyes were open now but slightly puzzled. She always loved catching him off guard. It didn't happen often.
"Morning, handsome." She set his cup on the nightstand next to him and walked around the bed to her own side.
"Morning. What is this?"
"Breakfast in bed. I've never brought anyone breakfast in bed in my life before, so you should be honored." She slipped back into bed herself, the tray between them.
"What's the occasion?"
"I'm married to the man of my dreams." She leaned across the plates and kissed him, then picked up her own plate. "We haven't got too much time to spare, though, so you'd better get to eating."
He sat up, accepting his plate. "You're in a good mood this morning." He picked up his watch from the nightstand, glancing at it as he put it on.
"I meant that literally. You were in my dreams last night, and you saved my seventh Christmas from disaster." She recounted the dream while they ate. He smiled at her.
"Glad I was there for you."
"You always are. I'm really starting to think this year will be different. This is the 22nd, Horatio. Tomorrow night, we'll be having our own celebration. Christmas is almost here." His expression changed so quickly that it startled her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He retreated instantly, and she kicked him, almost making him spill his coffee.
"We're not going through that again. You've spent enough of your life not talking about things. What's wrong?"
He hesitated, then half-smiled, but it was forced. "Long habit. I am trying to break it. Maybe you could design a 12-step program."
She smiled back at him but didn't lose track of the point. "I'll work on that. Now, what's wrong?"
"I'd just really like to get this case finished, to get justice for Sam before Christmas."
"For Sam," she repeated. "Why does this one get under your skin so much? It's more than you blaming yourself about the lock code. Is it just that you knew her alive?"
He hesitated, his eyes focusing on the far wall, not looking at her. "She reminded me so much of my mother," he said finally. "Not in looks, but the personality was the same. Such a remarkable person. I'm not going to let anyone get away with this. Every single person involved is going down for it." It was a fierce vow. "And we will get this case closed by Christmas. I can give her family and Lisa that much, at least. They can't celebrate, but at least they can have some closure."
Calleigh reached out with her foot again, but instead of kicking him this time, she stroked his leg gently. "I'm sorry, Horatio. I didn't realize that." Too wrapped up in my own memories to see his, she scolded herself.
He heard the unspoken thought and returned the pressure of his foot against hers. "You've had a lot on your mind. We will have our own private celebration tomorrow night, to give you a true Christmas to remember. Even if the case isn't done. We can stop for a while."
"No, Horatio. We can celebrate any time. We have a whole lifetime together. Finish this one out first, since it means that much to you. You're right, her people deserve closure." She still couldn't quite mention Lisa by name. A second later, though, she realized that she had to. "Oh, Horatio, I forgot. Lisa called a little earlier. She said she had some new information on the case."
He switched instantly from personal to professional tracks, his mind sorting out the case. "Did she say what?'
"No." Not that I really gave her a chance to.
"I'll go out to the barn this morning. I need to get her to identify the ring officially, anyway." He looked at his watch again. "We'd better get moving. Thank you for the breakfast, beautiful. I've never had anyone bring me breakfast in bed, so it's a first for both of us." He kissed her again. "And we will celebrate tomorrow night. We'll just make sure we finish this case before then." He threw back the covers and launched himself into the day, determination in every line of him. Calleigh gathered up the plates and followed him.
***
The team met in the layout room. Horatio was in his general giving the battle plan to the troops mood, and not even Speed challenged the serious tone of the meeting. "This is the 22nd, people. By tomorrow night, we will have this case totally closed. We have Edwards, but we need to finish nailing down the evidence for him. No lawyer is going to have a chance to get him off. And the rest of those involved are still out there. Eric, Speed, anything on the house yesterday?"
Eric answered. "Nothing, H. No fingerprints, not even on the doorbell, not even on the flush handle of the toilet. Edwards was wearing gloves. And they did wipe the desk down, just in case."
"I haven't had time to finish that notepad reconstruction yet," said Speed, "but we know from the owner the lock code was there."
"Put that on hold for the moment," said Horatio. "You can come back to it later, for use at the trial. This morning, Speed, you're going to process the Explorer. Look for any evidence that it was used to transport that body. Get any prints you can. Also, match up Calleigh's tire track casts." Speed nodded, and Horatio divided his attention between Eric and Calleigh. "You two are going to process Edwards' house. Eric, get anything you can, especially on who else might be involved. Also remember the fibers from the stall. Try to find matching clothes. Calleigh, you're looking for weapons and pool cues. If you find any, bring them back and compare them to the weapons used in the two murders. And everyone keep me posted."
There was a low murmur of agreement, but Calleigh wasn't sure how much of it reached Horatio, his focus was so tight. He was already out the door, heading for the barn, before the rest of them moved.
***
When Horatio entered the barn, Lisa was halfway down the aisle, cleaning stalls. She popped out instantly when she heard someone, and he saw the moment of tension on her face until she recognized him. How long would it take her to stop wondering if the next person into the barn was a murderer? He noted the new security cameras at each end of the aisle. She had some reassurance there, at least.
"Morning, Lisa. I understand you tried to call me earlier."
"Right, I've figured it out now. I know what happened. Come here." She headed down the aisle, walking as fast as she could. He frowned slightly, studying her. She seemed to have lost 10 pounds in just a few days, and the slight limp was more than slight now.
"Are you okay, Lisa?"
"Just tired. This is too much work for one person, but I'm trying to hire some help. I've got someone coming the day after Christmas." They reached Valentine's stall, and the gray horse stuck his head out over the door. Lisa gave him a pat. "This is where Sam was murdered, right here, and I think it was because Valentine's stall is here."
Horatio didn't quite follow her. "You mean, you think she found them in his stall looking for the ring?"
"No. I'm sure they weren't in his stall, because they wouldn't be able to get in it. I think Val recognized them and freaked out, and Sam put it together."
The light dawned. "You mean the horse would recognize the criminals."
"Absolutely. They learn by association. He didn't know what was coming the first night, but they caught him, probably handled him roughly, dumped a dead body in front of him, and smeared blood on his legs. He'll never forget it. He would be upset the minute he smelled them. I think probably they had just come into the barn, through the main door at the middle, when Sam came around. So they talked, and she gave them the ring. But Val was getting restless, which isn't at all like him. So she walked down the aisle to check on him, and the criminals must have followed her. The closer they got, the more upset Val was, and Sam realized why. So she turned back to accuse them, standing right in front of his stall, and they shot her. That's why there was the distance."
All the puzzle pieces fit. "That's it, Lisa. I'm sure you're right." Horatio held out a picture of the ring. "By the way, just to go through the formalities, this is the ring Ruth brought you, right?"
"That's it."
"Will you testify to that at the trial?"
She hesitated, then straightened up. "Yes. For Sam." His admiration for her grew a notch. He knew, and understood, why she hated dealing with people.
"Thank you. I'm sure Edwards is the one who killed Sam, and we have him in custody, but the rest of the gang is still out there." He looked back at Valentine. "Edwards is the one who held the horse. His fingerprint is on the halter. But there had to be others here."
Lisa grinned suddenly. "Val will identify Edwards. Maybe we could have a line up. Is that admissible in court?"
Horatio grinned back at her. "I doubt it. We'd never arrange a line up with the horse, anyway. Edwards has already lawyered up. He won't get off, though; the evidence is strong." His grin faded as he thought it through. "We might be able to use that another way, though. You're sure that the horse could identify anyone here that night?"
"Positive. But you just said it wasn't admissible."
"It's not. But I think it might be useful." He whipped out his cell phone. "Adele? Meet me over at the house-sitter's. I'd like to run him by an eyewitness, see if we can get an identification."
Adele's voice was puzzled. "There weren't any eyewitnesses, H."
"Wrong." Horatio reached up his free hand and stroked Valentine on the neck. "We've got one. And he's willing to testify."
***
Horatio beat Adele to the house and leaned against the H2 waiting. Curtains twitched on both sides of the street. He would just wait here and let the house sitter get himself nice and worked up before they went in. He turned to the other side of the street and waved to Mrs. Cummings. That curtain instantly grew still, and Horatio grinned to himself. He absolutely had to be in court the day she was on the stand. He passed the time waiting by mentally inserting different defense attorneys he knew into that cross-examination. Shame that it had to only be one of them.
Adele pulled up. "What's this about an eyewitness?"
"Valentine. I want to see if he'll identify our house sitter."
Adele eyed him steadily. "Even if he will, what difference does it make? He can't testify."
"The problem here," Horatio explained, "is that the house sitter is more frightened by the other criminals than he is by us. I want to see if we can change that. The horse weighs 900 pounds, Lisa said."
"He's also a 10-year-old's pet."
"I don't think he'll be feeling too gentle this time. Come on, Adele. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Horatio let Adele take the lead for once. She was better at being painfully officially proper than he was. "You understand that you are not obligated to take a ride with us, or to answer any questions, and that you may have a lawyer with you if you wish."
"And that the owner of this house has given you express instructions to cooperate with us in any way needed," added Horatio. Adele frowned at him.
The house sitter bit his lip nervously. "Yeah, okay, I guess. I keep telling you guys, I don't know anything."
"Can't hurt to come with us and answer a few questions, then," Adele pointed out.
"Okay." He came with them, uneasy but still convincing himself that they really had no evidence to make him accessory. Unfortunately, thought Horatio, he's right. At this point.
The Hummer and Adele's car convoyed out to the barn. Horatio could imagine the house sitter getting more and more nervous during the trip as he realized where they were going. He couldn't protest to Adele, though, since he still claimed he didn't even know where the barn was.
By the time the two vehicles pulled up, the man was a nervous wreck. He got out and lit a quick cigarette, and his hands were shaking. "No smoking," said Horatio. "It's dangerous in barns. Too much hay." The cigarette reluctantly dropped to the ground. "Now then, since you've never met your relative's horses, we just thought we would introduce you." He entered the barn, and Lisa silently came to meet them. Horatio again noted the cameras. Just let some defense attorney claim we roughed him up here. We aren't going to have to.
Horatio was watching Valentine intently as the house sitter entered the barn. The gray horse's head came out of his stall instantly, and he was looking up toward them, the nostrils flaring, the ears flipping uneasily back and forth. "Now down here," said Horatio, "is Valentine. He's the little girl's pet. Perfectly gentle, guaranteed safe." They started down the aisle. The closer they got, the more agitated Val became. He retreated, galloped a circle inside his stall, then came back to the door, snorting. As they stopped in front of the stall, he reared and struck the door with a blow that echoed up and down the aisle, and Horatio suddenly understood why the stall doors were solid oak instead of cheaper wood.
The house sitter backed up two or three steps, and Val snorted again, never taking his ears off him. He pawed the ground nervously. "How odd," said Horatio. "He doesn't seem to like you. Funny, since he's such a gentle horse. Maybe he just needs time to get to know you. Lisa, would you take the horse out, please?"
Lisa picked up the halter and reached for the stall latch. Valentine kicked the door again, and the house sitter folded like a house of cards. "Keep him away from me! That horse is crazy. He stepped on me the other night, and he wasn't half this bad then. He'll kill me!" He clutched at Horatio's arm, pleading unashamedly. "Please, you gotta keep him away."
Adele instantly whipped out her notebook. "With your right to remain silent still in mind, are you admitting that you have been here before?"
"Yes, yes, I was here. I'll talk to you. I'll do anything. Just don't let that horse out."
Adele stepped forward, taking his arm firmly. "I think we'll continue this conversation at headquarters."
"Fine," babbled the house sitter. "Just get me out of here!" Adele escorted him up the aisle and out. Horatio hesitated for a second.
"Lisa," he said, "when the horse calms down, give him a carrot for me. I wish every witness we had was that positive." She half smiled at him, and he gave her a pat on the shoulder. "We'll get them all, I promise you. Take care of Valentine. We may need him again." He followed Adele down the aisle.
***
Once cracked, the house sitter broke wide open, spilling everything, more scared of Valentine now than of the criminals. He had run into Edwards at a convenience store, and they recognized each other from prison. In the conversation, he mentioned that he was house sitting for his relative. Later that night, Edwards had rung the doorbell. He stayed for over an hour, grumbling that his new girlfriend had found his best private rendezvous, and the cops were staking out two more. He had to get a new secure place before a big drug deal went down in a few days. At first, he wanted to use Valentine's owner's house, but he had spotted Mrs. Cummings on the way in. He drilled the house sitter with all sorts of questions about the old woman, but he finally gave up on the idea. While he was there, though, he found the barn lock code and then went looking for the address. So the drug deal had gone down at the barn, with the house sitter insisting he had been dragged along reluctantly. Edwards said he knew too much to not be at the exchange. Everything had gone smoothly. Two other people had been with Edwards, as well as the drug buyers and their accomplices. The four of them were splitting the money at Edwards' apartment the next night, while his girlfriend was at a movie, and one of them had become convinced that Edwards short-changed him. In the argument, Edwards had hit him with a pool cue and beaten him to death. It was Edwards' idea to take the body back to the barn and frame the horse for murder. He said he had once seen a man with his head kicked in by a horse, and it looked similar. Edwards had held the horse, and the house sitter had smeared blood onto his legs. The third man had arranged the body.
"What about the third trip to the barn, when Sam was killed?" asked Horatio. He was sitting down at the table and appeared calm, but the eyes were lasers.
"What third trip? I wasn't with them any third trip."
"Come clean with us. That's your only chance to cut your sentence."
"I'm telling you, I wasn't there. Check with Nosy across the street. She probably keeps a log of cars in and out. I never went back to the barn until today."
Horatio sighed, reluctantly believing him. With one of the four killed with a pool cue, that still left one on the loose. "The other person you saw with Edwards, not the one who was killed, did you know him?"
"Never saw him before. And he never used his name."
Horatio leaned forward slightly. "Is there anything else you can tell us that would help identify him? Anything at all?"
The house sitter really was trying. "Wait a minute, he called Edwards on his cell. While Edwards was over at the house. In fact, he was giving him a new number to reach him at."
Horatio sat straight up. "Did Edwards write it down?"
"Yeah, on the notepad. He had it right then, looking at the barn lock code. Then he pulled off the top several pages and put them in his pocket."
Horatio stood up. "Thank you." As he left the room, he could hear Adele behind him, going through the formalities of arrest. He nearly ran over Calleigh in the hall.
"Hey, what's up?"
"New information. Where's Speed?"
"Still working on the Explorer. I've identified the pool cue and the gun."
"Great." He wasn't insincere, just totally focused on something else. Calleigh knew the look. She followed him toward the garage.
"Was that the house sitter you were questioning?"
"Right. We scared him into cooperating with us. Just one missing now, and we've got a good lead on him." They entered the garage. "Speed."
"Yo, H. This car definitely transported a body. I sent DNA and hair samples up to the lab to match. Not many fingerprints, though. They wore gloves."
"I want you to drop the car and get back to work on that notepad. Reconstruct it as far as you can, especially any phone numbers. There's at least one written on it, several pages back."
Speed looked dubious. "How many pages back? There's a limit."
"Well, work on it until you hit the limit. Then go farther until you get me that number."
"Right," said Speed. No point in trying to reason with H when he was in this mood. He left the garage.
Behind him, Calleigh looked over at Horatio. "Sounds like a good lead."
"I just hope it doesn't take Speed too long." Page reconstruction was a tedious process, he knew. But there was nothing he could do to hurry it along. Reluctantly, Horatio steeled himself to wait it out, and Calleigh steeled herself to wait it out with him.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day"
***
Lisa snapped awake with a jerk, heart pounding. She had been dreaming that Sam was trying to tell her something. Her friend had been laid out in her coffin at the funeral home, and Lisa had bent closer to her to hear the message. Suddenly, arms had grabbed her from behind, and the funeral home staff, thinking she was another dead body, were placing her in her own coffin. Lisa desperately tried to explain that she was still alive, but she had lost all power of movement. They pushed her down into the coffin as the lid started to close.
Actually, the pressure was still on her chest, even though she was awake now. She opened her eyes and looked straight down at Ruth, arranged like a miniature sphinx on her chest, purring lustily. Ruth did not often have an opportunity to enjoy a human pillow at night. "Don't do that," Lisa protested, while her hand went down to massage the cat's ears. "Do you have any idea what you made me dream?" Ruth squeezed her eyes shut in catly indifference, still purring.
With a slight groan, Lisa settled back on the couch in the feed room. She hadn't really meant to sleep here all night, had just stretched out for a minute's rest before driving home. She glanced at Sam's watch, which she was still wearing. Yep, all night. It was now 5:30. She stretched out the sore points in her muscles gingerly while still lying there. Doing the basic chores at the barn had taken two hours, morning and night, with two people. That left eight hours for one person alone, and at the end of that, there were still 20 horses to be exercised. Two days of doing it alone had worn Lisa to the edge of exhaustion, even using the lunge line mostly to work the horses instead of riding. Of course, the boarders would help eventually, at least with exercising their own horses. So many were on vacation right now, and Lisa had cancelled all lessons until after Christmas.
She had spent yesterday thinking things through while working, the sheer volume of the workload forcing her to be practical in spite of her grief. The business was hers alone now. Absolutely everything here was paid off. Her business now, to make a success or a failure. Sam would no longer be there like Santa Claus to bail them out over tough times. Still, she thought it could be done. She was advanced enough herself now that she was teaching lessons, and the boarding business was profitable. The barn had been in the black for two years running. She had to get some help, though. She had called a few people last night, friends and boarders who she knew weren't totally bogged down with work and responsibilities themselves, and offered them part-time jobs. One of them would come the day after Christmas and help her for two weeks, until college started again, but so many people were out of town at the moment, she hadn't been able to make any progress past that. At least in a few days, she would have some temporary assistance. This is the 22nd, she thought, adding it up mentally. Hang on until the end of the week, Lisa. And Sam, if you're up there, send me some permanent help. I'm not quitting, but I can't do this alone.
She rolled over and swung her feet to the ground, dislodging the cat, who gave her a disapproving glare and stalked off. Might as well get started early on the day. She scrambled to her feet and opened the grain bin, starting to fill the feeding cart.
The horses whinnied and scrambled eagerly in their stalls as the wheeled cart started to roll down the aisle. Lisa smiled to herself in spite of the sore muscles. Their unfailing welcome always soothed her. Of course, she knew it was the food they anticipated now, but they were always glad to see her, and they never cared if she looked like she had slept in the feed room all night. She wheeled the cart back to the feed room, fed Ruth, and returned to the main aisle. She leaned against the wall for a minute and closed her eyes, just listening to the even, contented munch. It smoothed the frayed edges off her soul. She often thought that tapes of horses eating should be sold as therapy. This had Valium beat a mile.
She opened her eyes and wandered most of the way down the aisle. This was where Sam had died. Why? She wanted to shake the criminals and drag some reason out of them. Then see them punished, of course, but she did want a reason, too. She would have given you that ring. You didn't have to shoot her.
She recreated the scene in her mind. Sam had come down the aisle from the other end, coming from the arena. There had been strangers in the aisle, looking for the ring. Never put off by anyone, she would have immediately introduced herself. Probably they met at about the halfway point, meeting her as she was coming toward them. She would have asked about the ring promptly. Then what? Why shoot her? Why not just claim it? Something else must have happened, Caine had said. The shooter was 10 feet from Sam. The exchange might even have already taken place.
Lisa crossed to Chrissy's stall, looking to her horse for inspiration. The mare had her muzzle buried in the feed bucket, but she raised it for a minute, looking back at Lisa with calm, trusting inquiry. Are we going to do something? Chrissy would rather work than eat, even. "Finish your breakfast," said Lisa. Chrissy still watched her for a second longer, then turned back to the grain. Lisa admired her for a moment. The bay coat was shining, the muscles of her jaws sliding easily underneath it, the ears relaxed but still half focused on Lisa, ready to catch any change of agenda.
Lisa abruptly stiffened and whirled around, staring directly across the aisle. Valentine, a much faster eater, was already finished with his breakfast. He had his head over his stall door, his own ears focused on her calmly. Valentine's stall, directly across from Chrissy's, directly across from the scene of the murder. And suddenly, Lisa knew exactly why Sam had died.
***
The kitchen phone rang, and Calleigh, hovering under the edge of consciousness, groaned and considered ignoring it. The ringer on the bedroom phone was still turned off from yesterday morning. It was too much effort to get up and move. The machine could get it.
It wasn't, though. The ringing persisted. Horatio stirred slightly himself, and Calleigh reluctantly got up, hoping to grant him a little more sleep. She swung the bedroom door shut as she went out. She picked up the kitchen phone with a grumbled hello and found herself talking to the dial tone, while the ringing continued. Her sleep-soaked brain finally started to function. She hung up the phone and picked up Horatio's cell phone from the counter where he had left it last night. "Hello," she snapped.
There was a pause of several seconds. "Hello," Calleigh repeated. Come on, if you're going to ring 15 times, at least stay on the line.
"Mrs. Caine?" The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it for a minute.
"Yes." Claiming Horatio's name soothed a bit of the edge off her tone. She still enjoyed calling herself that.
"This is Lisa Wilson."
Calleigh stiffened up instantly, reflexively. Even if nothing was going on from Horatio's point of view, Lisa had thought about it. Calleigh was sure of that. Her faith in Horatio was rock solid again, but she didn't have to like this little tramp. "May I help you?" she said coldly.
Another pause. "Um, is Mr. Caine there?"
"He's still asleep. I'd be glad to give him a message." She'd like to give Lisa a message, but the southern courtesy drilled into her prevented her from direct attack.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think how early it was."
Calleigh looked at her own watch. "It's 6:15. Did you have a message you want to give me?"
Lisa hesitated so long Calleigh wondered if she had hung up. "Um, could you just tell him that I have some new information on the case?"
"I'll give him the message." She would, too. Duty overrode feelings.
"Thank you," Lisa said softly. "I'm sorry I disturbed you." She hung up, leaving Calleigh suddenly feeling guilty again. I have nothing to apologize to Lisa for, she told herself firmly. She would give Horatio the message, though.
Calleigh started making coffee, putting off waking him up as long as she could. She would have liked to let him sleep in again, but he would never forgive her for it. Not two mornings in a row. She started planning the day ahead, but she still couldn't shake that nagging feeling of guilt about Lisa, like she had just struck a child. Determinedly, she shoved it from her mind. And did it again, and yet again, while she fixed breakfast. Finally, she decided to salve her conscience by being especially nice to Horatio, who did deserve an apology, even if he didn't know it. She fixed them each a plate and arranged them side by side on a tray. It didn't really leave room for the coffee cups; she would have to come back for those.
She pushed the bedroom door open again and tiptoed in, then carefully, softly set the tray with the plates on the bed right beside his face, about six inches from his nose. She straightened up and admired him silently for a moment, resisting (with difficulty) the temptation to smooth a stray lock of red hair back into place. Nothing happened for several seconds, then Horatio's nose twitched slightly and he stirred. Calleigh tiptoed back into the kitchen, returning with the two coffee cups. His eyes were open now but slightly puzzled. She always loved catching him off guard. It didn't happen often.
"Morning, handsome." She set his cup on the nightstand next to him and walked around the bed to her own side.
"Morning. What is this?"
"Breakfast in bed. I've never brought anyone breakfast in bed in my life before, so you should be honored." She slipped back into bed herself, the tray between them.
"What's the occasion?"
"I'm married to the man of my dreams." She leaned across the plates and kissed him, then picked up her own plate. "We haven't got too much time to spare, though, so you'd better get to eating."
He sat up, accepting his plate. "You're in a good mood this morning." He picked up his watch from the nightstand, glancing at it as he put it on.
"I meant that literally. You were in my dreams last night, and you saved my seventh Christmas from disaster." She recounted the dream while they ate. He smiled at her.
"Glad I was there for you."
"You always are. I'm really starting to think this year will be different. This is the 22nd, Horatio. Tomorrow night, we'll be having our own celebration. Christmas is almost here." His expression changed so quickly that it startled her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He retreated instantly, and she kicked him, almost making him spill his coffee.
"We're not going through that again. You've spent enough of your life not talking about things. What's wrong?"
He hesitated, then half-smiled, but it was forced. "Long habit. I am trying to break it. Maybe you could design a 12-step program."
She smiled back at him but didn't lose track of the point. "I'll work on that. Now, what's wrong?"
"I'd just really like to get this case finished, to get justice for Sam before Christmas."
"For Sam," she repeated. "Why does this one get under your skin so much? It's more than you blaming yourself about the lock code. Is it just that you knew her alive?"
He hesitated, his eyes focusing on the far wall, not looking at her. "She reminded me so much of my mother," he said finally. "Not in looks, but the personality was the same. Such a remarkable person. I'm not going to let anyone get away with this. Every single person involved is going down for it." It was a fierce vow. "And we will get this case closed by Christmas. I can give her family and Lisa that much, at least. They can't celebrate, but at least they can have some closure."
Calleigh reached out with her foot again, but instead of kicking him this time, she stroked his leg gently. "I'm sorry, Horatio. I didn't realize that." Too wrapped up in my own memories to see his, she scolded herself.
He heard the unspoken thought and returned the pressure of his foot against hers. "You've had a lot on your mind. We will have our own private celebration tomorrow night, to give you a true Christmas to remember. Even if the case isn't done. We can stop for a while."
"No, Horatio. We can celebrate any time. We have a whole lifetime together. Finish this one out first, since it means that much to you. You're right, her people deserve closure." She still couldn't quite mention Lisa by name. A second later, though, she realized that she had to. "Oh, Horatio, I forgot. Lisa called a little earlier. She said she had some new information on the case."
He switched instantly from personal to professional tracks, his mind sorting out the case. "Did she say what?'
"No." Not that I really gave her a chance to.
"I'll go out to the barn this morning. I need to get her to identify the ring officially, anyway." He looked at his watch again. "We'd better get moving. Thank you for the breakfast, beautiful. I've never had anyone bring me breakfast in bed, so it's a first for both of us." He kissed her again. "And we will celebrate tomorrow night. We'll just make sure we finish this case before then." He threw back the covers and launched himself into the day, determination in every line of him. Calleigh gathered up the plates and followed him.
***
The team met in the layout room. Horatio was in his general giving the battle plan to the troops mood, and not even Speed challenged the serious tone of the meeting. "This is the 22nd, people. By tomorrow night, we will have this case totally closed. We have Edwards, but we need to finish nailing down the evidence for him. No lawyer is going to have a chance to get him off. And the rest of those involved are still out there. Eric, Speed, anything on the house yesterday?"
Eric answered. "Nothing, H. No fingerprints, not even on the doorbell, not even on the flush handle of the toilet. Edwards was wearing gloves. And they did wipe the desk down, just in case."
"I haven't had time to finish that notepad reconstruction yet," said Speed, "but we know from the owner the lock code was there."
"Put that on hold for the moment," said Horatio. "You can come back to it later, for use at the trial. This morning, Speed, you're going to process the Explorer. Look for any evidence that it was used to transport that body. Get any prints you can. Also, match up Calleigh's tire track casts." Speed nodded, and Horatio divided his attention between Eric and Calleigh. "You two are going to process Edwards' house. Eric, get anything you can, especially on who else might be involved. Also remember the fibers from the stall. Try to find matching clothes. Calleigh, you're looking for weapons and pool cues. If you find any, bring them back and compare them to the weapons used in the two murders. And everyone keep me posted."
There was a low murmur of agreement, but Calleigh wasn't sure how much of it reached Horatio, his focus was so tight. He was already out the door, heading for the barn, before the rest of them moved.
***
When Horatio entered the barn, Lisa was halfway down the aisle, cleaning stalls. She popped out instantly when she heard someone, and he saw the moment of tension on her face until she recognized him. How long would it take her to stop wondering if the next person into the barn was a murderer? He noted the new security cameras at each end of the aisle. She had some reassurance there, at least.
"Morning, Lisa. I understand you tried to call me earlier."
"Right, I've figured it out now. I know what happened. Come here." She headed down the aisle, walking as fast as she could. He frowned slightly, studying her. She seemed to have lost 10 pounds in just a few days, and the slight limp was more than slight now.
"Are you okay, Lisa?"
"Just tired. This is too much work for one person, but I'm trying to hire some help. I've got someone coming the day after Christmas." They reached Valentine's stall, and the gray horse stuck his head out over the door. Lisa gave him a pat. "This is where Sam was murdered, right here, and I think it was because Valentine's stall is here."
Horatio didn't quite follow her. "You mean, you think she found them in his stall looking for the ring?"
"No. I'm sure they weren't in his stall, because they wouldn't be able to get in it. I think Val recognized them and freaked out, and Sam put it together."
The light dawned. "You mean the horse would recognize the criminals."
"Absolutely. They learn by association. He didn't know what was coming the first night, but they caught him, probably handled him roughly, dumped a dead body in front of him, and smeared blood on his legs. He'll never forget it. He would be upset the minute he smelled them. I think probably they had just come into the barn, through the main door at the middle, when Sam came around. So they talked, and she gave them the ring. But Val was getting restless, which isn't at all like him. So she walked down the aisle to check on him, and the criminals must have followed her. The closer they got, the more upset Val was, and Sam realized why. So she turned back to accuse them, standing right in front of his stall, and they shot her. That's why there was the distance."
All the puzzle pieces fit. "That's it, Lisa. I'm sure you're right." Horatio held out a picture of the ring. "By the way, just to go through the formalities, this is the ring Ruth brought you, right?"
"That's it."
"Will you testify to that at the trial?"
She hesitated, then straightened up. "Yes. For Sam." His admiration for her grew a notch. He knew, and understood, why she hated dealing with people.
"Thank you. I'm sure Edwards is the one who killed Sam, and we have him in custody, but the rest of the gang is still out there." He looked back at Valentine. "Edwards is the one who held the horse. His fingerprint is on the halter. But there had to be others here."
Lisa grinned suddenly. "Val will identify Edwards. Maybe we could have a line up. Is that admissible in court?"
Horatio grinned back at her. "I doubt it. We'd never arrange a line up with the horse, anyway. Edwards has already lawyered up. He won't get off, though; the evidence is strong." His grin faded as he thought it through. "We might be able to use that another way, though. You're sure that the horse could identify anyone here that night?"
"Positive. But you just said it wasn't admissible."
"It's not. But I think it might be useful." He whipped out his cell phone. "Adele? Meet me over at the house-sitter's. I'd like to run him by an eyewitness, see if we can get an identification."
Adele's voice was puzzled. "There weren't any eyewitnesses, H."
"Wrong." Horatio reached up his free hand and stroked Valentine on the neck. "We've got one. And he's willing to testify."
***
Horatio beat Adele to the house and leaned against the H2 waiting. Curtains twitched on both sides of the street. He would just wait here and let the house sitter get himself nice and worked up before they went in. He turned to the other side of the street and waved to Mrs. Cummings. That curtain instantly grew still, and Horatio grinned to himself. He absolutely had to be in court the day she was on the stand. He passed the time waiting by mentally inserting different defense attorneys he knew into that cross-examination. Shame that it had to only be one of them.
Adele pulled up. "What's this about an eyewitness?"
"Valentine. I want to see if he'll identify our house sitter."
Adele eyed him steadily. "Even if he will, what difference does it make? He can't testify."
"The problem here," Horatio explained, "is that the house sitter is more frightened by the other criminals than he is by us. I want to see if we can change that. The horse weighs 900 pounds, Lisa said."
"He's also a 10-year-old's pet."
"I don't think he'll be feeling too gentle this time. Come on, Adele. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Horatio let Adele take the lead for once. She was better at being painfully officially proper than he was. "You understand that you are not obligated to take a ride with us, or to answer any questions, and that you may have a lawyer with you if you wish."
"And that the owner of this house has given you express instructions to cooperate with us in any way needed," added Horatio. Adele frowned at him.
The house sitter bit his lip nervously. "Yeah, okay, I guess. I keep telling you guys, I don't know anything."
"Can't hurt to come with us and answer a few questions, then," Adele pointed out.
"Okay." He came with them, uneasy but still convincing himself that they really had no evidence to make him accessory. Unfortunately, thought Horatio, he's right. At this point.
The Hummer and Adele's car convoyed out to the barn. Horatio could imagine the house sitter getting more and more nervous during the trip as he realized where they were going. He couldn't protest to Adele, though, since he still claimed he didn't even know where the barn was.
By the time the two vehicles pulled up, the man was a nervous wreck. He got out and lit a quick cigarette, and his hands were shaking. "No smoking," said Horatio. "It's dangerous in barns. Too much hay." The cigarette reluctantly dropped to the ground. "Now then, since you've never met your relative's horses, we just thought we would introduce you." He entered the barn, and Lisa silently came to meet them. Horatio again noted the cameras. Just let some defense attorney claim we roughed him up here. We aren't going to have to.
Horatio was watching Valentine intently as the house sitter entered the barn. The gray horse's head came out of his stall instantly, and he was looking up toward them, the nostrils flaring, the ears flipping uneasily back and forth. "Now down here," said Horatio, "is Valentine. He's the little girl's pet. Perfectly gentle, guaranteed safe." They started down the aisle. The closer they got, the more agitated Val became. He retreated, galloped a circle inside his stall, then came back to the door, snorting. As they stopped in front of the stall, he reared and struck the door with a blow that echoed up and down the aisle, and Horatio suddenly understood why the stall doors were solid oak instead of cheaper wood.
The house sitter backed up two or three steps, and Val snorted again, never taking his ears off him. He pawed the ground nervously. "How odd," said Horatio. "He doesn't seem to like you. Funny, since he's such a gentle horse. Maybe he just needs time to get to know you. Lisa, would you take the horse out, please?"
Lisa picked up the halter and reached for the stall latch. Valentine kicked the door again, and the house sitter folded like a house of cards. "Keep him away from me! That horse is crazy. He stepped on me the other night, and he wasn't half this bad then. He'll kill me!" He clutched at Horatio's arm, pleading unashamedly. "Please, you gotta keep him away."
Adele instantly whipped out her notebook. "With your right to remain silent still in mind, are you admitting that you have been here before?"
"Yes, yes, I was here. I'll talk to you. I'll do anything. Just don't let that horse out."
Adele stepped forward, taking his arm firmly. "I think we'll continue this conversation at headquarters."
"Fine," babbled the house sitter. "Just get me out of here!" Adele escorted him up the aisle and out. Horatio hesitated for a second.
"Lisa," he said, "when the horse calms down, give him a carrot for me. I wish every witness we had was that positive." She half smiled at him, and he gave her a pat on the shoulder. "We'll get them all, I promise you. Take care of Valentine. We may need him again." He followed Adele down the aisle.
***
Once cracked, the house sitter broke wide open, spilling everything, more scared of Valentine now than of the criminals. He had run into Edwards at a convenience store, and they recognized each other from prison. In the conversation, he mentioned that he was house sitting for his relative. Later that night, Edwards had rung the doorbell. He stayed for over an hour, grumbling that his new girlfriend had found his best private rendezvous, and the cops were staking out two more. He had to get a new secure place before a big drug deal went down in a few days. At first, he wanted to use Valentine's owner's house, but he had spotted Mrs. Cummings on the way in. He drilled the house sitter with all sorts of questions about the old woman, but he finally gave up on the idea. While he was there, though, he found the barn lock code and then went looking for the address. So the drug deal had gone down at the barn, with the house sitter insisting he had been dragged along reluctantly. Edwards said he knew too much to not be at the exchange. Everything had gone smoothly. Two other people had been with Edwards, as well as the drug buyers and their accomplices. The four of them were splitting the money at Edwards' apartment the next night, while his girlfriend was at a movie, and one of them had become convinced that Edwards short-changed him. In the argument, Edwards had hit him with a pool cue and beaten him to death. It was Edwards' idea to take the body back to the barn and frame the horse for murder. He said he had once seen a man with his head kicked in by a horse, and it looked similar. Edwards had held the horse, and the house sitter had smeared blood onto his legs. The third man had arranged the body.
"What about the third trip to the barn, when Sam was killed?" asked Horatio. He was sitting down at the table and appeared calm, but the eyes were lasers.
"What third trip? I wasn't with them any third trip."
"Come clean with us. That's your only chance to cut your sentence."
"I'm telling you, I wasn't there. Check with Nosy across the street. She probably keeps a log of cars in and out. I never went back to the barn until today."
Horatio sighed, reluctantly believing him. With one of the four killed with a pool cue, that still left one on the loose. "The other person you saw with Edwards, not the one who was killed, did you know him?"
"Never saw him before. And he never used his name."
Horatio leaned forward slightly. "Is there anything else you can tell us that would help identify him? Anything at all?"
The house sitter really was trying. "Wait a minute, he called Edwards on his cell. While Edwards was over at the house. In fact, he was giving him a new number to reach him at."
Horatio sat straight up. "Did Edwards write it down?"
"Yeah, on the notepad. He had it right then, looking at the barn lock code. Then he pulled off the top several pages and put them in his pocket."
Horatio stood up. "Thank you." As he left the room, he could hear Adele behind him, going through the formalities of arrest. He nearly ran over Calleigh in the hall.
"Hey, what's up?"
"New information. Where's Speed?"
"Still working on the Explorer. I've identified the pool cue and the gun."
"Great." He wasn't insincere, just totally focused on something else. Calleigh knew the look. She followed him toward the garage.
"Was that the house sitter you were questioning?"
"Right. We scared him into cooperating with us. Just one missing now, and we've got a good lead on him." They entered the garage. "Speed."
"Yo, H. This car definitely transported a body. I sent DNA and hair samples up to the lab to match. Not many fingerprints, though. They wore gloves."
"I want you to drop the car and get back to work on that notepad. Reconstruct it as far as you can, especially any phone numbers. There's at least one written on it, several pages back."
Speed looked dubious. "How many pages back? There's a limit."
"Well, work on it until you hit the limit. Then go farther until you get me that number."
"Right," said Speed. No point in trying to reason with H when he was in this mood. He left the garage.
Behind him, Calleigh looked over at Horatio. "Sounds like a good lead."
"I just hope it doesn't take Speed too long." Page reconstruction was a tedious process, he knew. But there was nothing he could do to hurry it along. Reluctantly, Horatio steeled himself to wait it out, and Calleigh steeled herself to wait it out with him.