At Risk
by Kit Ehrman
Summary
Steve Cline is hijacked early one morning along with some show horses. His escape turns him into a killer’s target in an environment where a complex scheme develops and everyone, no matter how innocent, courts risks . . .
Excerpt
I flicked off my light and edged around to the side door used for loading the horses. Thinking that I didn’t want my fingerprints plastered all over the trailer, I slipped my hand under my T-shirt and unlatched the heavy ramp. I lowered it toward the ground, letting the springs do most of the work. They twanged and hummed under the stress, and the rusty hinges screeched until the lower lip of the ramp settled into the grass.
I nearly lost my nerve then, but the barn would muffle most of the sound, and the house was a good fifty yards beyond. I swallowed.
Heavy plywood partitions lay folded across the ramp. Normally, they would be raised on either side of the ramp, then slotted and bolted into place to form sidewalls for guiding the horses, but I didn’t bother with the ramp. I stepped around the ramp, grabbed the edge of the door frame, and scrambled into the darkened trailer.
The air was chillier inside than out and smelled strongly of cows. I switched on the flashlight. Someone had removed the stall dividers and stacked them against the back wall. I looked at the window placement, at the shape and size of the storage space over the gooseneck, at the design and positioning of the overhead lights, and was certain I was standing in the trailer. Details I hadn’t remembered came flooding back--the missing bar in the left-hand window, the six-inch crack in the yellowed light fixture over the back stalls, the tufts of torn baling twine that stuck out like a bad hairdo from the tie ring in the central aisle, the way the rubber matting under the escape door curled at the edge.
I examined the interior surface of the escape door. It, too, had received a paint job, but not as thorough. The original color was evident in the crease along the hinges and in the lower right-hand corner. I thought about how I’d escaped from the trailer and searched the floor. The old bolt was lying in a crevice where the fibers in the rubber matting had separated. Three links of chain still hung from one end. I bent down to pick it up, then hesitated.
I left it where it was, scrambled out of the trailer, and raised the ramp. I slid the latch home, spun around, and walked straight into the business end of a double-barreled shotgun.
The barrel jerked upward, and I felt my scalp contract.
“What’n the hell are you doin’?” He held the gun at the ready, pointing straight at my chest. “Well?”
I tried to work some saliva into my mouth, but all I could do was stare at the gun, at his hand steadying the barrel, at his finger fidgeting over the trigger guard.
Reviews
Both horse lovers and crime fans who’ve never stepped into a stirrup will relish Ehrman’s riveting debut, set on a Maryland hors
When he’s kicked out by his father for not attending college, 21-year-old Steve Cline finds a job he really loves--being barn ma
Author's Biography
Award-winning mystery author Kit Ehrman pens the equine-oriented mystery series featuring barn manager and amateur sleuth Steve Cline. The series has received outstanding reviews in The New York Times, Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus, The Denver Post, and the Chicago Tribune among others. To learn more, visit http://www.kitehrman.com.