âWhat are you doing here?â
âJust came to watch some roping,â Jess interjected.
Corey addressed Shara. âThought you didnât like rodeo.â
âRopingâs okay,â she shrugged.
âThis is the competitorsâ area. You riding here?â
âWeâre visiting a friend,â said Jess quickly.
Corey stayed focused on Shara. His eyes seemed to go right through her and make the truth impossible to hide. âAre you visiting the Connemans?â
âNo! No . . . of course not. We didnât even know they were here.â Sharaâs voice was a squeaky stammer. She was so lying and it was so obvious. She could almost hear Jessâs groan at her complete inability to keep it together.
âTheyâre not the sort of people you want to mess with.â
âWhy would we want to mess with them?â said Jess, taking Shara by the arm again. âWe have to go, or weâll miss the finals.â
âTheyâre not on for another hour,â said Shara.
âWe have to go anyway.â Jess hauled her away until they were behind a big, stinking rubbish hopper, then spun around to face her. âOh my God, youâve totally got the hots for that rodeo schmuck. You were about to tell him everything!â
âWhat, are you nuts?â Shara pulled a face. âI was just surprised to see him, thatâs all. It caught me off-guard.â
âCrap!â said her friend with an appalled laugh. âYou never smile at me like that.â
âWell, youâre not six foot tall with a purebred quarter horse underneath you,â said Shara.
Jess snorted in disgust. âHe is a total player. Pull yourself together before I slap you!â
Shara rolled her eyes. âLetâs just go.â
Jess was like a ferret in a rabbit warren, weaving in and out between vans and trucks. Shara could hardly keep up with her. It wasnât long before they realised that there were very few dark places to hide. They zigzagged from shadow to shadow, finding very little cover. If someone was to walk out of their van, theyâd be caught, frozen under a porch light with nowhere to run. A dog barked and threw itself at the inside wall of a truck, snarling. Shara jumped backwards.
Two arms caught her and a hand clamped over her mouth. She felt her stomach knot as she was dragged slowly backwards, one step at a time, silently, into a dark space. She could only watch as, up ahead, Jess slipped silently behind a horse truck and disappeared.
âSshh,â her assailant whispered into her ear.
From inside the truck, a manâs voice growled. âLie down!â There was a yelp and then quiet.
Shara didnât dare breathe. The dog let out a low, I-know-youâre-still-out-there growl and then yelped as its owner kicked it again.
âWhat are you doing back here?â It was Corey. Shara winced as she was spun around. âWhat are you and your mate up to? Youâre not going to ruin the nationals for everyone with some stupid protest, are you?â His voice was like a sharp pinch.
âNo, we just . . .â How on earth could she explain? She couldnât, she realised â she might as well come clean. âWe just want to find Goldieâs mother,â she said. âSo we can prove who owns him. Weâre notââ
âYou donât know who youâre messing with,â he hissed, and it left her wondering whether he included himself in that category or whether he was just talking about the Connemans.
âIâm sorry . . . â
He pointed his thumb back towards the stable. âGet out of here before you get busted. Just go home. The animal shelter will sort out who owns that horse.â
âThey canât, not without proof. We just need a DNA sample. A bit of hair, thatâs all. Then weâll go, I promise. Oh, and a photo.â
She heard Corey exhale.
âJess is . . . I have to