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The light is soft in the kitchen, the counters bathed in the warm glow of the overhead lamps. The atmosphere shifts when I see Cora by the window, her silhouette tense, her gaze fixed on the darkness outside.
“Cora?” I call out softly, not wanting to startle her. “Is everything all right?”
She turns, and I read the worry etched into her features. “Laine, dear,” she says, her voice shaking slightly.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
Her hands are ringing the fabric of her cloth apron as she shakes her head. “Likely nothing. I’m probably being an old fool.”
“Okay, let’s hope that’s all it is, but what has you so worried?”
“Connor said he was on his way up from the stables almost an hour ago, and now he’s not answering his phone. It’s not like him.”
The concern in her voice is contagious, and a knot forms in my stomach. “I don’t like the sound of that either,” I admit, glancing toward the window. He could have fallen ill or hurt himself. “Why don’t I take out Tag’s UTV down to the stables and see if I can find him?”
“Aye, let’s. I’ll come with you, duck.”
The sky lets off a long, low rumble, and I frown. “We might need a flashlight and maybe a first-aid kit if he’s hurt.”
“Aye, good thinking. I’ll get them and meet you in the side hall.”
I waste no time rushing to the closet to slide into my sneakers and my jacket. He could’ve twisted his ankle in the dark and might not be able to put pressure on it.
But why isn’t he answering his phone?
Maybe he left it behind in the stables when he put away the chainsaw from working in the orchard today. Yeah, that’s likely all it is.
Cora meets me at the side door, and we go out into the garage. I grab the keys from where they hang on the hooks and hustle over to the spunky little dune buggy. At the same time, Cora hits the button to open the garage door.
When she climbs in beside me, I reach over to her seat and squeeze her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine.” But even I hear the doubt in my voice.
I’ve only had one lesson driving this thing, but it wasn’t so different from driving a car—except the steering wheel is on the wrong side.
I turn the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life. We chug slowly past the expensive cars, and then, once we’re out in the chill of the damp, night air, I steer the vehicle towards the stables.
“Are there headlights?” I ask, searching the control panel for the button to help us cut a swath through the darkness. On the roll bar above our heads, there is an entire line of lights.
I just have to figure out how to turn them on.
“What about that one there, duck?” Cora asks, pointing.
I give the button a flick, and the lights come on, flooding our path with light. “Perfect. Now, let’s go find your hubby.”
The two of us go bouncing across the green lawn of the Quinn estate, the stables a dark shadow in the distance ahead. Maybe it was all the talk about the McGuires taking a shot at Tag tonight, but there is definitely something wicked in the air.
Still, I don’t voice my concerns to Cora. She’s already scared enough about her husband. There’s no reason to make her more nervous by speculating that there are darker things afoot.
When we pull up to the stables, I park the side-by-side, pull the keys, and jump out. There are no lights on inside, which implies he’s not here, but if he isn’t…where is he?
“Connor!” Cora calls out, her voice echoing slightly in the open air. There’s no response, just the soft rumble of the stormy weather front moving in.
We rush inside, and I flick on the lights as we enter. The bright fluorescent glow reveals the usual orderly rows of stalls, but no sign of Connor.
“Connor!” Cora calls out again, her voice tinged with a rising panic.
We move quickly down the line of stalls, checking each one, but find nothing but property tools and old horse tack from when these were active stables.
The realization that he’s not here, that he might be somewhere out there possibly hurt, sharpens my focus. “We’ll check the orchard and the grounds between here and the house again.”
