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“We’ll never know, will we?”

A shuddering sigh passed Rebecca’s lips. “It doesn’t matter; Sentimental Lady is dead.”

“And you took the blame for that. You and Ian O’Riley.”

“It’s over now.”

“And you can start fresh with Gypsy Wind.”

“I don’t even want to think about racing right now,” Becca confided. “I’m so tired, and confused. I don’t think I’ll ever want to race again.”

“You will.”

“I’m not sure, Brig.” She looked at him with eyes filled with agony and remorse. “If it wasn’t for my stubborn pride and the fact that I had to prove myself to the world as a horse breeder, none of this tragedy would have taken place . . . and my brother wouldn’t be on the run—”

“Don’t blame yourself, Becca.”

She wrapped her arms about her abdomen and rocked on the couch. “Hold me, Brig,” she pleaded. “Hold me until it’s over . . .”

Chapter 13

The police had taken Dean into custody that same afternoon, and when pressed with the evidence stacked against him, Dean had confessed that he had been responsible for drugging Sentimental Lady in her stall six years before.

Injecting Sentimental Lady with Dexamethasone had been Jason Chambers’ idea. He had dealt with Dean in the past and knew that Becca’s brother was always in debt, so he offered to pay him twenty-five thousand dollars to drug the horse. It was beneficial to both parties. Dean would be able to pay off several mounting gambling debts and an impatient loan shark. The last five thousand he would give to Jackie for the baby. The deal was sealed and Jason Chambers didn’t have to worry about his horse.

According to Dean, Jason had considered Sentimental Lady strong competition and he was unsure of Winsome’s ability when it came to racing against the fleet filly. To withdraw Winsome from the race was out of the question because it would be obvious that the colt was demurring to the filly. Jason couldn’t take a chance on losing the race. He had to keep Winsome’s racing record intact because he planned to put him out to stud and wanted to demand the highest possible fee for Winsome’s services. He knew that no matter what the outcome of the race, Sentimental Lady would be disqualified when traces of the steroid were found in her test sample taken immediately after the race.

Twice Rebecca had tried to see her brother, but he had refused, preferring not to face her or the fact that he had let her shoulder the blame for his crime. It was difficult for her, but she realized that if and when Dean wanted to see her, he would contact her. She left the police station feeling drained and exhausted and was met by a bevy of reporters who had gotten wind of the story. She was grateful for Brig’s strong arms and calm sense of responsibility. After a firm “no comment” to the eager press, he had whisked her away from the throng and into his car. Within minutes they had left the inquisitive reporters on the steps of the station house.

“They’re not going to leave you alone,” Brig pointed out, gently smoothing her hair away from her face.

“I know,” she murmured, her misty eyes darkened with pain. “But I just can’t face them . . . not yet.” She turned her head and tried to focus on the passing landscape, but she couldn’t think of anything other than her brother’s lies. For six years he had hidden the truth. It was ironic, she thought quietly to herself, that six years ago, when she thought Brig had betrayed her, Dean had helped her through that rough period. As it turned out, Dean had been the culprit, and now Brig was helping pull her life back together.

She felt safe once back at Starlight Breeding Farm, but her dreams were tormented with haunting images of her brother behind bars and a terrorized Sentimental Lady rearing against the pain in her bloodied foreleg. When Becca woke in the middle of the night, still trembling from the frightening images, Brig was beside her. His strong arms surrounded her and helped comfort her. “It’s all right,” he whispered against the tangled strands of her hair. “Everything’s all right now. You’re with me, darling Becca.” And she believed him. In the desperate hours of the night, with the shadowed fragments of the dream still fresh, she believed him.

It was dawn that brought reality thundering back to her and forced her to rebuild her life. Two days after Dean’s arrest, there was a sharp rap on the front door. As Becca raced down the stairs to answer it, she could hear a car idling in the drive. Since it was only seven in the morning, Becca knew it had to be someone with news of her brother. Her heart hammered fearfully as she conjured reasons for the unexpected visit. Had Dean decided to see her after all, or had he attempted to escape? Or was it worse? In his confused state of depression, could he have tried to harm himself?

She yanked open the door, expecting to face a grim police officer. Instead she stood face to face with a slim, attractive woman of about thirty-five, whose well-manicured appearance and practiced smile were neatly in place as her brown gaze swept over Becca’s slightly disheveled appearance.

“Ms. Peters?” the woman inquired with a flash of near-perfect teeth and inviting smile.

Becca was instantly wary. She ran her fingers through her long golden hair, attempting to restore it to some kind of order. “Yes?”

“My name is Marian Gordon. I’m with theStateside Review.”She paused for a moment, waiting for the desired effect, and then extended her hand. Becca forced a wan smile onto her face, hoping not to appear overly alarmed. TheStateside Reviewwas little more than a cheap scandal sheet that boasted a healthy nationwide circulation. The stories it covered were usually the most bizarre imaginable and Becca realized that there was probably no way to put off the inevitable. One way or the other, Marian Gordon would get her story. Becca took the slim woman’s hand grudgingly, and then released it.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Gordon?” she asked coolly. Her elegant dark brows arched instinctively upward.

“Your brother is Dean Peters?” Becca drew in a long, steadying breath before nodding. “I thought so.” Marian Gordon seemed pleased. Her poised smile became smug. “Mr. Peters has agreed to give me an exclusive interview concerning his arrest and alleged part in the scandal concerning Sentimental Lady’s death.”

“He did what?” Becca replied, stunned. Then, collecting herself, she retaliated. “Is this with or without his attorney’s knowledge?”

Marian shrugged, obviously not interested in minor details. “I was hoping that I would get your cooperation, Ms. Peters. It would give the story more depth and perspective if I could hear your side of it. Don’t you agree?”

“I wasn’t aware there were sides.”

“Obviously you haven’t spoken to your brother lately.”

“Obviously.” Becca bit back the hot retort that hovered anxiously on the tip of her tongue. “I don’t think I can comment on anything at the moment,” Becca hedged with a lofty arch of her brows. It took all of her control to be polite to the sharply dressed woman.