Free Splintered Bones by Carolyn Haines Page A

but let me give you a word of advice. That girl needs to be taken in hand. She's famous for pitching fits at horse shows, refusing to ride. She's high-strung, but that's no excuse for the tantrum she threw here." He followed me to the front door. "Maybe some medication wouldn't be a bad idea. Something just to level her out for a while."
    "I'll take it under advisement," I said as I walked across the porch and down the steps.
    Kip was sitting on the ground, her back against the wheel of my car. She climbed into the front seat without a word. I backed up, hesitating before I put the car in gear. "Do you want to see the horses before we leave?"
    She shook her head, burgundy spikes wobbling.
    "Kip, what happened out here?"
    She shrugged. "I lost something in Bud's apartment. I was looking for it."
    "Did you ask his permission?"
    "He wasn't around." She shot a glare at me. "Besides, it's my place, not his. He's just a hired hand. He doesn't own anything."
    "Only a few hours ago, you were defending Bud," I reminded her.
    "That was then." She turned away from me so that I could see her jawline. It reminded me of Lee's, the stubborn strength of it.
    "What happened?" I asked her.
    "That bitch Carol Beth Bishop was in the barn. She and Bud. Together." Her voice was swollen with hurt and anger. "He said before it was because he was trying to help Mama, but that was just another damn lie. Since Mama's in jail, I guess they can screw in the barn aisles if they want to. They all lie so they can do whatever they want to do." She reached across her seat and grabbed the seat belt. "Can we go?"
    I set the car in motion, going slowly out the drive. "Was she after the horses?" I asked.
    "The horses, Bud, whatever she can get. I hate her." She was staring out the windshield, and a strange blank look came over her face. "I hate her," she said slowly. "She's always here, always hanging around. I wish she'd die." The expression on her face shifted chillingly in the spring light. "Maybe she will."
    My mouth went dry. "What are you saying, Kip?"
    She looked at me, a long, appraising glance. "I know what it's like to hate someone, to hate them enough to do something awful."
    My pulse quickened. "What kind of awful thing are you talking about?"
    She lowered her chin, tucking it almost to her chest. Her glance was sidelong, considering. "You don't really want to know, Sarah Booth. Trust me, you don't. Because if I tell you, then you'll have to do something about it, and that would make Mama really upset."
    7
    Propped up on pillows in my bed, I tried to
focus
on
the book I'd selected to read. It was a defense lawyer's recounting of cases, many of them involving women who'd killed their spouses. I was hoping for some help, but my mind refused to cooperate. I couldn't stop thinking about Kip.
    She had hammered me with her bitter assessment of my cowardice. I'd failed to question her about the syringe in her makeup kit. She was correct--I didn't want to know the truth. Not until I had an idea of what I would do with it. What I should do with it. What my role as Lee's private investigator and my ethics required me to do with it.
    I felt a chill in the room and lowered the book I wasn't reading to find Jitty standing at the foot of the bed.
    "You've got yourself in a fine mess," she said softly. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her weight undetectable. "Have you figured out what you're gonna do?"
    I shook my head. "I have a hypothetical question. If Lee chooses to sacrifice herself for her daughter, do I have a right to try to stop her?"
    Jitty shifted, semireclining so that the moonlight falling through the bedroom window was softly gathered into the folds of her sheer nightgown. "This entire case is about the future, Sarah Booth. Lee's and Kip's. If you had a daughter, what would you do?"
    Imagining the future was difficult. Imagining the future with a teenage daughter was even harder. But I knew the answer. Deep inside, there was no doubt. "The same