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“They must have had someone watching the gate for us,” he said as the congested traffic finally thinned. He wove through the city of Lexington, determined to avoid being followed. “Are there cameras at the racetrack?”
“I think so.” She frowned. “I mean, it makes sense from a security perspective.”
He kicked himself for not thinking of that possibility earlier. He was failing in his job of keeping Fiona safe. If he kept screwing up, the next attack might be the last.
“You don’t think my father hacked into the security system, do you?” Fiona’s tone was skeptical.
“Why not?” He shook his head in disgust. “If your father is behind these attacks, then it stands to reason he’d have someone on the payroll to watch for you using any and all means available.”
She bit her lip and turned away to look out the window. “All of this for money. And since he’s already won three million in the Derby, he’s not exactly destitute.”
“I’m sure your father has sunk a lot of money into training Fiona’s Folly,” Doc said. “Maybe he was doing this to get out of debt.”
She shrugged, then turned in her seat. “I should call my father. Tell him I want to talk and give him a location to meet with me.”
His gut instinct was to refuse, but he couldn’t blame her for wanting this nightmare to be over. “Do you remember his phone number?”
“No.” She sighed. “But I’m sure there’s a general number for the farm.”
“The farm?”
She looked surprised, then nodded slowly. “I have a vague memory of a sprawling horse farm. A barn and a fenced-in corral.”
“That’s great.” He continued driving around Lexington until he was convinced they hadn’t picked up a tail. Not an easy task considering the traffic, but after another fifteen minutes, he finally headed southwest toward their rental house. “We’ll use the computer back at the rental house to look up where your father’s farm is located. I’m sure it will be easy enough to find.”
She nodded, her expression still troubled. “I wonder if I live there or somewhere else.”
He hesitated. Logically, it made sense. He made a mental note to ask Rex to run her name through the Kentucky DMV system. Her address would be listed on her driver’s license. “It’s not likely you kept your jumping horse, Syracuse, at some other boarding stable. I don’t know if that means you live there on the farm, but you probably kept your horse there.”
She grimaced. “That makes sense.”
If Fiona had money, she could easily have left her father’s farm to stay in a hotel someplace close by. The more they learned about her past, the more he leaned toward Fiona being very close with her father.
Until their recent argument tore their relationship apart.
Yet he still wondered if Fiona’s former fiancé, Tristan, was involved. Although that may be more of a personal distrust on his part. Any man who would cheat on the woman he claimed to love was no better than pond scum in his book.
“The race is on,” the radio broadcaster said. “Eleven horses are vying for the one-million-dollar purse!”
Fiona reached over to grasp his arm. “This is it. We’ll know very shortly if my father is responsible.”
He wanted to protest that simply winning a race wasn’t proof of guilt, but the announcer was giving a play-by-play of the race.
“Fiona’s Folly is coming up on the outside,” he said in an urgent tone. “He’s in fifth place now and closing in fast. Fourth, third, now he’s nose to nose with Milestone Mario.”
As the announcer continued, Fiona’s grip tightened on his arm to the point he was starting to lose feeling in his fingers.
“It’s a photo finish!” the announcer shouted. “One of the closest races yet, but it appears that fan favorite, Fiona’s Folly, has taken first place for the second time this year!”
“I can’t believe it.” Fiona released her deathlike grip on his arm, her hand falling limply to her side. “My father won a million-dollar purse because Savior’s Journey was scratched from the race.”
“We can’t be certain of that, considering Milestone Mario almost won,” he tried to protest, but deep down, he suspected she was right.
“Pull over.” Fiona put a hand to her mouth as if she were about to be sick. He quickly headed onto the right-side shoulder and slowed to a stop. She instantly pushed the door open and crawled out of the car.
“Where are you going?” He shifted into park, leaving the engine idling to follow her. She stumbled forward a few steps, then bent at the waist, pressing her hands on her knees.
He put his arm around her for added support. “Deep breaths. It’s okay.”
