For a moment, neither of us speaks; then he says, “Anything on your end?”

I take a deep breath, and slowly the world around me settles back into place. My window is down and I hear a dove cooing from the fence outside. A small herd of Hereford cattle graze in the pasture beyond. The sun slants through the windshield, warm on my face, and I remind myself that no matter what happens, life goes on. Life always goes on.

“We might have a witness.” I tell him about the girl riding her horse. “I’m on my way to talk to her now.”

“A break would be nice.” He pauses. “You okay?”

“Better,” I tell him. “Thanks.”

“If I can get things tied up here, I’ll head your way.”

“I’d like that.” I start to tell him I miss him, but he ends the call before I get the words out.

CHAPTER 15

The Reiglesberger family lives on a small horse property located at a hairpin curve on County Road 14. They breed Appaloosa horses and have boarding facilities for people who don’t own land. I’ve met Elaina Reiglesberger several times over the years, but just to say hello. The only things I know about her are that she gives riding lessons to kids and that she runs a therapeutic riding program for special-needs children.

I pull into the gravel lane, drive past a double-wide trailer home, and park adjacent to the horse barn, next to Rasmussen’s cruiser. It’s an old building in need of paint; the pipe pens are rusty and bent, but the place is well kept.

I exit the Tahoe as two dogs of dubious breeding bound up to me, tongues lolling. I reach down to pet them, and I’m greeted with a barrage of wet kisses. The sliding door of the barn stands open and I can see the silhouettes of several people and at least one horse in the aisle. Wiping my slobbered-up hands on my slacks, I start toward the door.

The smell of horses and manure and fresh-cut hay greet me when I step inside. Five heads turn my way, one of which is Sheriff Rasmussen’s. He’s surrounded by several young girls in riding breeches and helmets, along with a plump, competent-looking woman wearing jeans and a yellow golf shirt. The horse is a big shiny bay in cross-ties and looks as if he’s enjoying the hubbub. I suspect the bag of carrots lying on a nearby lawn chair might be part of the reason.