Page 46 of Total Jane Wreck

“Well,” Theo states, “either I can wake her up by banging on the blue barn’s door, or you can go get her for me. I’ve got a busy day ahead—don’t really have the time to come back later.”

“I understand,” Chet states, vowels clipped. “I’ll go get Grace right now.”

He bolts outside, into the rain, and over to the blue barn. An awkward silence descends, which is broken by Axel Rose.

“Chet Edwards is a good man,” she says to Theo.

“I know,” Theo says. “But why are you telling me this?”

“Because I realize how it looks,” Axel Rose replies. “Like maybe he orchestrated the attack against his stepbrother, or at the very least, like he’s covering it up. But I’ve worked for Chet since he bought Resilience Ranch over a year ago, and I can attest to his character. Whatever you’re suspecting him of—he’s not responsible.”

My head is swimming. What did Chet and Axel Rose say before I got here? Did I mess up by mentioning Grace Poole? But if she stabbed Mason—if she’s that dangerous—why would Chet try to protect her?

The only sound is the rain pounding down on the metal roof. There’s a clap of thunder, and Miss Adele fidgets in her stall. Just like a horse we used to board at Adkins Stables named Kenny G (his owner liked yacht rock). I spent hours calming Kenny G whenever it rained. It only makes sense that Miss Adele is reacting this way. The smarter the horse, the more sensitive they are.

“Hey, girl,” I say, moving toward her stall. “It’s okay. I’ve gotcha.” I pet her mane, soothing her.

After a couple minutes, Chet comes barging back into the stable. “Turns out Grace was already up,” he says. “She’ll be right here.”

“I would have come to her,” Theo says.

“It’s fine,” Chet says, voice brisk.

Thirty seconds later, Grace appears. “You wanted to ask me some questions?” she says to Theo.

“I do,” Theo tells her. “You’re Chet’s aunt?”

“Correct,” she says.

“So,” Theo responds, “Chet’s mother, who was here visiting yesterday, is that your sister?”

“No,” Chet states. “Grace is my dad’s sister.”

“And where is your dad?” Theo asks.

Chet takes a deep breath, yet he seems even more tightly wound. “Not that it’s relevant, but my father died in the Persian Gulf War, shortly before I was born.”

Theo blinks at him. “Sorry to hear that.” He swallows. “Anyway, Ms. Poole, can you describe your whereabouts last night and if you noticed anything unusual?”

Grace tells Theo that last night, like every night, she stayed in. “I’m going through a messy divorce,” she says. “And I came here for peace and quiet.”

As Grace describes her evening—reading a book, drinking tea, and trying to ignore noise from the party—Chet walks over to me. His shirt, wet from the rain, is plastered to his chest. Beads of water cling to his eyelashes. His hair is slicked back. Most men would look like a drowned rat. But Chet only looks better for it—wet and sharp, as brilliant as a knife’s edge. And possibly just as dangerous.

He keeps his voice low, a whisper meant for me alone. “Hey. Don’t say anything more unless he asks for it. Please?”

I nod, feeling heat at the base of my neck, a memory of his mouth on my skin, my pulse still unable to let the night before go. His tone is hard to read. Protective? Annoyed? Does he think I’m about to blow up his perfectly curated narrative, or does he actually want to shield me from this little police procedure? What kills me is that I have no idea.

“Can one of you show me where the hoof knives are stored?” Theo asks.

“That would be in the tack room,” Axel Rose says. “Right this way.”

“Great,” Theo says. “Ms. Poole, how about you follow us? I still have a few more questions for you.”

Hmm . . . Is Theo leading Grace back there so he can talk to her without Chet hearing?

It’s just me and Chet now. He doesn’t look at me at first. He stares into an open stall, where Copper Cash chews intently at straw, blissfully unfazed by human drama.

“Thank you,” Chet rasps, “for not mentioning last night.”