Falcon's Run. Aimee Thurlo
moved to the window and looked outside. “I really don’t want to turn those kids away now that they’re here. They really look forward to spending time at the ranch and I hate disappointing them.”
Preston followed her gaze. “Is it just those three kids?”
“Yes. I got hold of the others due in today and told them I’d reschedule.”
“If you could keep them well away from the crime scene area, you could still let them ride the horses and pet the other animals,” Preston said.
“Absolutely not,” Stan said quickly. “Abby, think about it. The media is already out there taking photos. If you say that the ranch will have to be closed for now, people will see that as your way of putting the kids’ safety first. Yet if you say that’s what you’re going to do and then invite those kids in, you’ll lose credibility. The public will see images of kids riding horses and petting camels right next to half a dozen police cars and lots of yellow crime scene tape. Your donors are going to run for cover.”
“I’ll figure this out, Stan. Stop worrying,” Abby said firmly.
As she stepped out of the office, she had no idea what she was going to say. Then, making a spur-of-the-moment decision, Abby went to meet the kids. After briefly explaining the situation to the adults who’d brought them, she focused on the children.
“I know you’ve all been looking forward to this, but the police have important work they need to finish.” Abby glanced at Lilly, a small seven-year-old girl who’d been to the ranch once before. Her illness was terminal and, with her, each day counted. The other two, both boys, were new to Standing Tall Ranch.
“So we have to go back?” Lilly asked, her expression so downcast it tugged at Abby.
“I’ll tell you what. There can be no horseback riding this time, but how would you like to come say hello to Hank and Eli, our camels?” She saw their faces brighten.
“I’m Jason,” the tallest boy said, balancing well on two prosthetic legs. “I’m eight and I’ve never even seen a camel. Can we pet them?”
“I’d like that too,” the other boy said. “I’m Carlos.”
Abby recognized him from his file. Carlos was a victim of abuse and still had trust issues.
“Are they friendly?” Carlos added.
“Absolutely. We’ll pick up some treats for them as we go over to their pens.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw a camera crew hurrying over to her, but the detective moved quickly to intercept them.
A wave of relief swept over her and she smiled. She liked that man already. Beneath the stern cop exterior was a gentle heart. She’d make sure to thank him later.
PRESTON IDENTIFIED HIMSELF to the reporters. He knew a few already, like Marsha Robertson. She was an area reporter for the number one network affiliate in the state, which was based in Albuquerque.
He gave them all a quick rundown. “That’s all I have for you at this time.”
“A source tells me the owner was also attacked,” Marsha said, “perhaps by the killer. How can you be sure that those kids are safe?”
“There are a dozen or more police officers here. They’re safe, just as you are.”
“Right now, sure, but later…then what? Once the crime scene is released and the officers all leave, will Sitting Tall Ranch open up and return to business as usual?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask the owner.”
“And that would be me,” Abby said, walking up with Bobby at her side.
“The safety of the children always comes first, so the ranch will be closed until we can find out exactly what happened. I’ve made an exception for those kids because they were already here. Our riding instructor, Michelle Okerman, will stay with them while I speak to you, and if you’ll glance over from time to time, you’ll see the difference just being around the animals makes to these children.”
Abby paused and looked directly at each reporter there. “This ranch is a nonprofit whose sole purpose is to brighten the lives of kids who might otherwise have very little to smile about. One of our guests today is in the last stages of a serious illness and deserves extra consideration. That’s why I decided to let Sitting Tall Ranch rise above its present circumstances and come through on promises made.”
Preston saw that Abby’s answer had hit just the right tone with the reporters. He had a feeling more donations would soon come in. In fact, he intended to send her a check himself.
As the reporters moved away, Stan approached and said, “Well played.”
“I didn’t play, Stan. I told them the truth.”
“Yes, well, now concentrate on staying low profile till this blows over.”
“And that’ll be soon, right?” Bobby asked, looking up at Preston. “The CSI unit will get DNA from something, or trace evidence, and then you’ll go arrest the bad guy.”
“I wish it were that simple, but it’s not. Right now we’re gathering evidence, and then we’ll be interviewing a lot of people. Once we have a suspect, we’ll move in and arrest him or her.” Seeing Officer Michaels signal him, Preston excused himself momentarily.
“What’s up?” he asked Michaels as he walked over to the barn.
“We processed, photographed and logged in the evidence. When will you be ready for us to process the vic’s residence, the bunkhouse?”
“Hang on. I want a chance to look around there first. Did you or Gabe interview the staff?”
“Everyone who’s on-site now, yes. That includes the riding instructor, Michelle Okerman. She teaches the kids about balance and paying attention. Basically, she walks next to the mounts and helps them each step of the way. Monroe Jenkins, the police chief’s son, is here this morning, too. He volunteers a lot in the summer and does whatever needs to be done. Ilse Sheridan is also here. She’s Lightning Rod Garner’s personal assistant and volunteers her time to help train the horses. The last time any of them claim to have seen the vic was yesterday afternoon.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know when you can process the bunkhouse. In the meantime, walk through the grounds and check out each of the other structures. We don’t know where else the intruder went. And verify that there’s a bicycle inside the barn office.”
Michaels nodded. “Got it. We’ve already set up a search pattern.”
When Preston returned to where Abby was standing, Bobby was speaking to Michelle. The boy was favoring his right leg and swaying slightly from side to side.
Abby followed his line of vision. “He’s conning her,” she whispered with a tiny smile. “Michelle was hoping to divert Bobby by asking him to talk to the kids, but he knows where the action’s going to be. He’d rather stick with us.”
“That kid’s in pain. I don’t think he’s faking it,” Preston said.
“His disability is real, but he’s learned to use it. Don’t ever underestimate him. Bobby’s highly intelligent and knows how to manipulate adults to get out of whatever he doesn’t want to do.”
Preston didn’t comment, still unconvinced.
“Jack Yarrow, his foster parent, prefers dropping him off here first thing in the morning because Bobby makes his wife nervous. He can read her like a book and tells her what she’s about to do next, which creeps her out big-time.”
“He’s incredibly observant,” he said with a smile.
“It’s all part of a game he plays. Bobby can’t let go of the hope that he and his biological father will be together again someday. After his dad gave him up, Bobby made up the