Barnstorming (Gail Mccarthy Mysteries) by Laura Crum Read Free Book Online Page A

ridgeline, adrift in the wild, green world, looking back at my home on this ridge. Why this fascinates me I don’t know.
    Staring at the well-known landscape of the ridge, I pick out the tossing heads of the eucalyptus forest, the route of the ridge trail, the lofty pines behind the landmark tree, the silhouetted redwood grove that marks the site of the Lookout. I know virtually every inch of this scenery that I see from my porch. I have ridden and hiked the trails that trace the opposite ridge for many years, in all seasons. My fascination with it has never ended.
    And now…I take another sip of tea while my mind swings inevitably back to Jane’s body, lying by the side of the trail in the warm meadow. My eyes search out the particular oak tree crowns that I know rise over that meadow. Jeri and her crew are there now, investigating the scene of the crime. Soon Jeri will be here, ready to take my statement. Soon Blue and Mac will be home and I will need to tell them what has happened.
    I take another sip of tea and feel a tide of protest rising inside of me. I don’t want this. I want to contemplate the ridge in peace. I do not want this dark shadow of murder hanging over the peaceful landscape that I love. I want Jane alive and well and riding back to Lazy Valley Stable in the evening light. This blight, this evil, seems to pollute the beauty of the view, and my life, in an almost visible way. I can feel it in my bones, fear and anger mixing, in a way that makes my jaw clench.
    For a second I stare hard at the ridgeline, aware of the sound of Blue’s pickup truck coming up the driveway. Then I set my teacup down and stand up, a sense of resolution growing. I’m not sure where it will lead, but I know one thing. I’m not standing still for this evil. I’m fighting.

Chapter 5
     
    The sight of the dark green pickup parking in its place indicated Blue and Mac’s imminent return. I had barely rinsed my teacup and turned toward the back door when they came barreling into the house, Freckles at their heels, all loud, friendly voices and wagging tails. I greeted my son and husband and patted the dog and wondered how to begin.
    “What’s wrong, Mama?” Mac, always intuitive, had spotted my strained expression.
    “How was your ride?” asked Blue.
    “Not good,” I said.
    “Is Sunny all right?” Mac asked quickly. Henry’s colic and resulting surgery had made a deep impression. Mac’s eyes went instantly to the cantaloupe-sized, round gray stone on the mantel, the enterolith that had been removed from Henry’s large intestine. The ten thousand dollar rock, Blue and I called it.
    “Sunny’s fine,” I said reassuringly. “But I found a woman by the trail.” I swallowed. There was just no good way to put this. “She’d been shot. She was dead.”
    “Oh no.” Blue’s face got very still.
    Mac’s eyes were wide, with excitement as much as shock, I judged. At eleven years of age the tragedies of unknown others were not personal to him.
    “Who shot her?” he asked. “Did you know her?”
    “I knew her slightly. Her name was Jane Kelly.” I didn’t mention I’d been chatting with her less than an hour before she died. “She had a horse. No one knows who shot her. But since I found her, I called the sheriffs. And Jeri Ward is going to be here soon to take my statement.”
    “What’s that?” Mac asked.
    “I just need to tell Jeri everything that happened. She’ll record it,” I answered. I could see headlights coming up the driveway as I spoke. Daylight was ebbing fast. “There she is now.”
    “Why don’t you take her over to the other house,” Blue suggested. “Mac and I will make spaghetti for dinner.”
    “I’ll make the meatballs,” Mac said instantly. He liked cooking—especially things he enjoyed eating.
    “Fine,” I said, relieved that Mac hadn’t demanded to join Jeri and me. Slipping out the door before he could think of doing this, I met Jeri on the driveway. “Come on over to