don’t know,” she admitted. “But we shouldn’t have that much money lying around. Capital Hills seems to have had a windfall, too. The auctions were this week—they dropped ten million the first three days.”
“Damn.”
“That’s kind of a coincidence, isn’t it? They suddenly have ten million dollars? We suddenly have ten million dollars?”
“A slightly suspicious coincidence,” Merrick said, narrowing his eyes at her parents.
“That’s what I was thinking. Three months ago Dad changed the passwords on the bank accounts. I can’t see how much money we have anymore. I told him a while ago to hire a new accountant, and that was his excuse—new guy, new passwords. Don’t worry my pretty little head about it.”
“Your pretty little head looks worried.”
“Rivalries always make for money and headlines. But, Merrick, I don’t know. Something doesn’t smell right about this. And trust me, my family and the Capital Hills family aren’t in anything together. They hate each other.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“But still, I think someone at Arden and someone at Capital Hill might be stoking this rivalry in the press for a reason.”
“What reason?” Merrick asked. “Money?”
“Is there any other reason?” Remi asked, feeling sick to her stomach even saying that much. “Tyson Balt was at our house last night.”
“He owns Verona Downs, right? VD for short? He really should have rethought that name. What about him?”
“Balt’s been promoting the hell out of the Verona Downs Stakes race. Shenanigans and Hijinks are the two favorites already.”
“You think your family is getting the money from Balt?”
“Something’s not right” was all she would say.
Merrick pursed his lips and whistled.
“I don’t have the evidence yet. It’s only a hunch,” Remi said.
“You really want to dig this hole? You might end up falling into it, Boss.”
“I know,” she said, her stomach tightening. “But if my hunch is right, there’s a fraud being perpetuated here at Verona. I can’t look the other way even if my own family is involved. This farm has been my life for twenty-six years. I’m not going to let them fuck it up.”
“We should talk to someone at Capital Hills. What’s their name? The Brites?” Merrick asked.
Remi swallowed. Heat rushed to her face.
“Yes,” she said, her voice neutral. “The Capital Hills farm has been in the Brite family for 150 years.”
“The parents are out since they’re probably in on this, whatever it is,” Merrick said. “And we can’t talk to the daughters. I banged two out of three of them and didn’t call after.”
“Wait. When did that happen?”
“What was that thing with the big hats you dragged me to in May?”
“The Kentucky Derby?”
“That.”
“You had a threesome with two of the three Brite daughters at the Kentucky Derby?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“This is why I can’t take you anywhere. Okay, so the sisters are out.”
“Two out of three are. Anyone else?” Merrick asked. “A trainer maybe? Maybe we can find a stable boy you can bat your tits and flash your eyelashes at.”
“I doubt a groom would know anything.”
“A higher-up, then? A secretary?”
Remi shifted uncomfortably as her parents smiled for the dozens of cameras in the Winner’s Circle. Even Shenanigans seemed to be smiling.
“Well...I guess we can talk to Julien Brite,” Remi said and a tiny tremor passed through her body as his name passed her lips.
“Which one’s Julien?”
“Julien is the son. He’s the youngest in the family.”
“Never heard of him,” Merrick said.
“He’s not in the business,” Remi said. “Not sure why. I don’t even know where he lives now.”
“You know him?”
“Sort of.”
Merrick narrowed his eyes at her. “You sort of know him? Can you trust him?”
“He’s the only member of the Brite family who doesn’t hate me. I think.”
“He sounds like our guy, then. You want to find him and go talk to him about this stupid rivalry?”
“Oh, he already knows about the rivalry,” Remi said with a heavy sigh. “But yes, he’s probably the only one in the Brite family we can talk to.”
“I’ll find his number,” Merrick said. “We can call him.”
“No calls,” she said, making the decision at once. “On the off chance he does hate me, let’s not give him a reason to hang up on us.”
Remi stepped away from the rails and headed toward the clubhouse.
“So we show up on his doorstep and beg for help?”
“Can you find his doorstep for me? I’ll do the begging.”
“On it, Boss. But if Julien isn’t involved in the business, how do you know he knows anything about the rivalry?” Merrick asked. The crowd ahead parted for them. The people in the grandstand might not have known who she and Merrick were, but the clubhouse crowd certainly did. Tyson Balt, the owner of Verona Downs, eyed her warily. The feeling was entirely mutual. And up in the boxes she saw Mr. and Mrs. Brite giving an interview to a reporter as a camera recorded their every word. She glanced up at them. They glared down at her with unmistakable loathing.
“Because,” Remi sighed, “four years ago, Julien and I accidentally started it.”
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