Page 37

“Soon.” His brow furrowed with concern. At the first break in the crowd, he tugged her through.

Yet being outside in the parking lot wasn’t necessarily any safer, especially if the assailant had come out before they did. Doc’s gaze moved back and forth as he led her toward their rental car.

Once inside, she finally drew a deep breath. “I can’t believe some poor woman was stabbed because of me.”

“Not your fault.” His frown deepened as he drove through the parking lot to the street. Several vehicles were still streaming in, so it felt like they were swimming against a strong current. “The person responsible committed a crime.”

He was right, but she knew the truth was that the poor woman who’d gone down had only been hurt because they’d shopped at the same store. She stared down at her cheerful yellow dress and knew she’d toss it into the garbage the first chance she had.

“What did you remember back there?” Doc asked.

“I had an argument with my father. Something about me not wanting anything to do with horse racing.” She turned to look at him. “You were right. It seems as if my father must be involved in this.”

Doc reached over to take her hand, his thumb sliding over hers. “An argument isn’t necessarily proof of wrongdoing.” He was silent for a long moment as they crawled through the congested traffic. “And it certainly doesn’t sound like enough to cause him to send men with guns after you.”

“Maybe not.” She foolishly didn’t want to think the worst of her father.

“What the argument does explain is why your father didn’t report you missing.” Doc’s fingers tightened around hers. “If you left him on bad terms, he might not think too much of you not calling or coming around.”

That possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “That makes sense. Our argument would mean he’d have no reason to expect me to join him up in the box seat for the race.”

“Exactly.” Doc nodded encouragingly. “And keep in mind, we still don’t know if Savior’s Journey is racing today.”

“We need to tune in to the news station.” She didn’t release his hand, liking the warmth of his fingers around hers too much to let go, but reached over with her right hand to turn the volume up. The news station they’d tuned into earlier was still on.

They rode in silence for several minutes. Fiona tried to listen to the talking heads droning on and on about the race, but her attention wandered back to the argument she’d had with her father.

The words, I’m done with horse racing, echoed in her mind. She wished she could remember what had caused her to be so upset. Cheating, maybe, but it was hard to imagine her father stooping to that level.

Doping horses had been a problem in racing for a long time. Was it possible she’d witnessed someone doping Fiona’s Folly? That would explain the danger and the argument. Having a horse named after her was one thing, but having that same horse be accused of cheating would be worse.

She swallowed hard, feeling sick to her stomach.

“We have breaking news,” the radio announcer said. Doc released her hand to turn up the volume. “We’ve learned that Savior’s Journey has been scratched from today’s Keeneland Fall race because of a failed blood test.”

Doc glanced at her. “I’m sure the horse being drugged is related to Calvin Jacobson’s murder. He may have come upon someone entering or exiting the horse’s stall and an altercation ensued.”

“I think you’re right.” She stared duly out the passenger-side window. Obviously, the doping concern wasn’t with Fiona’s Folly, it was with the colt’s strongest competition, Savior’s Journey.

“Do you think your father’s horse will win the race?” Doc asked.

“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to believe her father had hired someone to eliminate Savior’s Journey from the race. Especially if doing so had caused an innocent man’s death. She sighed and turned back toward Doc. “Like I said before, there are a lot of factors that go into every race. Fiona’s Folly was the underdog in the Derby.”

He arched a brow. “You remember that your father’s horse was the underdog?”

She frowned, thinking back to the few memories that had flashed through her mind. Jumping her horse over white fences, lying in a hospital bed writhing in pain, and the argument with her father. Doc had been the one to show her the photo of her standing with her father in the winner’s circle at the Derby.

“No, actually, I don’t remember that.” She buried her face in her hands for a moment. She was sick and tired of not being able to remember. They had to do something more to spark more of her memories to return.

Before more innocent people were hurt or killed.

Despair radiated off Fiona in waves. Doc felt helpless as he watched her suffer, wishing there was something he could do to make things better for her.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he finally said. “We’ve made some progress already.”

She shook her head, scrubbed her hands over her face, then finally looked at him. Her blue eyes were damp with tears. “It’s not enough. We need to do more.”

He couldn’t argue that the danger surrounding her had gone on long enough. The recent attack at the hospital along with the stabbing at the racetrack were indications the gunmen were getting desperate.