No Good Deed Read Free

she?’
    â€˜I should have been stricter with her about that. But she was a good rider.’
    â€˜She could handle herself,’ Delaney said. High praise.
    Joelle was only fifteen, Sonora thought. A lot of things could come up that a fifteen-year-old couldn’t handle.

Chapter Three
    Dixon Chauncey insisted on showing Sonora through the barn, as if she could not make it down the dirt-packed aisle on her own. The rider mommies manned a wheelbarrow, scooping feed through the bars of the stalls. The horses nickered, waiting impatiently, snorting when the grain hit the feed tub.
    The musk of horse mixed pleasantly with emanations from fresh cedar shavings that were piled all the way to the barn roof in an empty stall at the opposite end. Sonora found the noise of munching horses soothing. She peeped in through one barred window.
    The horse, chestnut and skinny, did not lift his head from his dinner. The stall was rank with black muck and manure, cobwebs hanging in streams from the rafters.
    A barn cat, tiger-striped and skinny enough to show ribs, scooted in front of Dixon Chauncey. Sonora bent down absently and caught its tail as it went by, got a handful of cat fur and barn dust.
    The barn doors were open. An outdoor light sent a weak yellow glow over the weed-edged, beaten-down path that led to a small riding ring. Dixon Chauncey pointed to the lit section of backfield. Sonora saw the uniforms, Crime Scene Unit techs in heavy boots walking up and down the field, a man in jeans she thought might be Sam. Business as usual no matter where she went.
    â€˜Where’s your trailer?’ Sonora asked.
    Chauncey pointed to the far left of the backfield. Lights shone through tiny square windows, much like the barn, but smaller.
    â€˜Mr Chauncey, did Joelle leave any kind of a note?’
    â€˜No, ma’am, I don’t think she did.’ He shook his head, eyes wide and wary. This was a concept he had not considered.
    The trailer door opened and a little girl walked out to the front step. She wore a faded red sweatshirt and shorts, though it was chilly out. Her shoulders drooped and she rubbed her eyes, head tilted sharply to one side. Sonora thought she was crying.
    â€˜Mr Chauncey, how old are your kids?’
    â€˜Seven, nine, and fifteen, counting Joelle.’
    Are we still counting Joelle? Sonora wondered. ‘They alone?’
    He waved at the little girl, but she did not seem to see him. ‘Yeah. I really need to go and see to them.’
    â€˜Hang right here, just for a moment.’ Sonora went around the front of the barn, called to Renquist.
    He came toward her at a jog, which put him immediately out of breath. ‘Press is coming.’
    Sonora looked down the empty drive, wondered how Renquist knew. A car passed by on the two-lane road, switched on its lights. It would be full dark soon.
    â€˜They listen in on us. We return the favor.’
    Sonora nodded. ‘I’ll send somebody out to watch the drive. I don’t want them wandering. You I need.’
    Renquist followed as she walked back around the barn.
    â€˜Escort Mr Chauncey back to his trailer – evidently this guy’s got two other kids. Stay with him till I can get over there, go through Joelle’s room myself. Let me know if he goes through her stuff, removes anything. Keep watch. In a sympathetic manner.’
    â€˜I got you.’
    He understood. Sonora could tell by his tone of voice. He handed her his flashlight, a big black Mag Lite, cop issue.
    â€˜It’ll be dark soon, ma’am. You may need this.’
    She took it from him gratefully. Must be looking for promotion. Age discrimination would sink him.
    â€˜Thanks, Renquist. I’ll make sure it’s returned.’
    She turned then, feeling the strong pull of the crime scene, and headed for the backfield, and Sam. She heard the murmur of voices over her shoulder as Renquist introduced himself to Chauncey and suggested they head for