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“He didn’t answer?” she asked.
“No, he was likely on the phone trying to secure tickets for the race.” Doc rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sure he’ll get back to us soon.”
“Does Rex really have that level of power?” She sank into the closest chair, her knees feeling weak. The thought that she might have witnessed a crime wouldn’t leave her alone.
After all, it made sense. She saw something she shouldn’t have, and now someone was determined to silence her before she could tell the authorities.
Yet wouldn’t the gunmen assume she’d already done that? They didn’t know about her memory loss.
Unless for some reason they suspected she couldn’t remember.
Her headache returned in full force, the throbbing keeping pace with the beat of her heart.
“Yes, Rex has a lot of connections,” Doc said in response to her question. “Grayson’s Guardians has an impeccable reputation from law enforcement agencies to wealthy individuals across the country. Our team has helped numerous people out of tight spots. I’m sure Rex has favors he can call in to get what we need.”
“Tickets to the race and information on how the trainer died.” Fiona sighed. “How long do you think it will take?”
“No idea, but we need to head out to get a rental car anyway.” Doc pointed the TV remote at the screen and pressed the button to shut it down. “Let’s go.”
Fiona pushed to her feet and followed Doc out of the hotel. It wasn’t easy to walk outside, pretending everything was all right.
Doc captured her hand in his. She shot him a surprised look, but he simply arched a brow. “We’re a couple out for a stroll, right?”
“Right.” She forced a smile, disconcerted by the warmth of his hand surrounding hers. Having dressed in nice if casual clothes, they blended in well with the other tourists. She was surprised at how many people were milling around. “It’s busy around here.”
“Yeah, today’s Tuesday, and there are no races scheduled for the day.” Doc’s keen gaze swept over their surroundings in a sharp contrast to his leisurely pace. “Let me know if you see anyone who looks familiar.”
His comment hit hard, and she stumbled. His hand tightened around hers, providing support.
“Are you okay? You’re not dizzy, are you?”
“I’m fine. You’re right, I need to look for familiar faces.” She belatedly realized this was her world. Her father owned a racehorse, which meant she likely knew people associated with the sport of racing by sight.
Yet trying to identify a familiar face proved daunting. There were far too many people. She felt certain they were mostly spectators, but not all. Horses and owners came from all over the US, and even from Ireland and the UK, to participate in the Keeneland Fall Meet.
More information that seemed to come to the forefront of her mind with ease. Too bad the important things like her memory remained a mystery.
“Tell me, Fiona, if you wanted to eliminate a horse from a race, what would you do?” Doc asked in a low voice. “I mean, if killing the trainer isn’t a sure path to scratching a horse, what is?”
“Doping,” she answered without conscious thought. Then she tightened her grip on his hand. “That might be what happened. It’s possible Jacobson stumbled upon someone attempting to dope Savior’s Journey. But before he could raise the alarm, the person responsible killed him.”
“Yeah, that was a possible scenario that floated through my mind too.” Doc flashed a smile. “I just wanted to know if I was on the right track.”
His smile, along with his hand holding hers, made her foolish heart flutter. She ruthlessly squelched her inappropriate response to the man beside her. What was wrong with her? Doc wasn’t interested in being with her on a personal level. He was only sticking close to her side because he was an honorable man who was determined to keep her safe from the two gunmen who’d followed her to his cabin.
She focused on the issue at hand. Doping was a serious problem in the racing circuit. Desperate people would do anything to win a race.
Her father? She didn’t see why he would take the risk. Not if Fiona’s Folly had already won the Derby.
“There’s another possibility we need to consider,” she said to Doc. “It could be that this is the work of someone trying to eliminate both Savior’s Journey and Fiona’s Folly from the race.”
He arched a brow. “Can you think of anyone who would want both horses taken out of the race?”
With a grimace, she shook her head. “Too many to count, really. I mean, the Keeneland Fall Meet isn’t as big of a deal as the Derby, Belmont, and Preakness, which make up the Triple Crown. But the one-million-dollar purse is enough to draw lesser-known racehorses to the field. Especially since winning a high-profile race would allow the horse to be entered into other races.”
“When we get back to the hotel, I’d like you to scan the horses who have been entered in the big race tomorrow,” Doc said, turning down a side street. “Maybe one of the names of the horse or the owner will spark a memory.”
“That sounds good.” She doubted scanning names would help but couldn’t very well complain. If she knew exactly what had happened to cause two gunmen to hunt her down, she could head straight to the police and put an end to the danger.
