tracks throughout California, but he had been injured and could no longer race
safely. However, he could still be put to stud, and Tracy had no doubt that he’d
sire winners. Within a week they hoped to add two good mares to the stable, and
then they’d take the horses immediately to a breeding farm, where Goodheart
would impregnate the mares. All three would be brought back here, where Tracy
would care for them. Next year two healthy colts would be born, and then the
young ones would be boarded with a trainer near enough so Tracy could visit
constantly, and she’d help out with their training, learn all there was to learn
about rearing a champion, and then—and then—she and the offspring of Goodheart
would make racing history, oh yes, she was quite confident of making racing
history— Her fantasizing was interrupted when, about forty yards from the
stables,
she stepped in something mushy and slippery, and nearly fell. She didn’t smell
manure, but she figured it must be a pile left by Goodheart when they’d had
him out in the yard last evening. Feeling stupid and clumsy, she switched on the
flashlight and directed it at the ground, and instead of manure she found the
remains of a brutally mutilated cat.
Tracy made a hissing sound of disgust and instantly switched off the flashlight.
The neighborhood was crawling with cats, partly because they were useful for
controlling the mouse population around everyone’s stables. Coyotes regularly
ventured in from the hills and canyons to the east, in search of prey. Although
cats were quick, coyotes were sometimes quicker, and at first Tracy thought a
coyote had dug under the fence or leaped over it and had gotten hold of this
unfortunate feline, which had probably been prowling for rodents.
But a coyote would have eaten the cat right on the spot, leaving little more
than a bit of tail and a scrap or two of fur, for a coyote was a gourmand rather
than gourmet and had a ravenous appetite. Or it would have carried the cat away
for leisurely consumption elsewhere. Yet this cat had not looked even
half-eaten, merely torn to pieces, as if something or someone had killed it
merely for the sick pleasure of rending it apart .
Tracy shuddered.
And remembered the rumors about the zoo.
In Irvine Park, which was only a couple of miles away, someone apparently had
killed several caged animals in the small petting zoo two nights ago.
Drug-crazed vandals. Thrill killers. The story was just a hot rumor, and no one
was able to confirm it, but there were indications that it was true. Some kids
had bicycled out to the park yesterday after school, and they’d not seen any
mangled carcasses, but they’d reported that there seemed to be fewer animals in
the pens than usual. And the Shetland pony was definitely missing. Park
employees had been uncommunicative when approached.
Tracy wondered if the same psychos were prowling Orange Park Acres, killing cats
and other family pets, a possibility that was spooky and sickening. Suddenly,
she realized that people deranged enough to slaughter cats for the sheer fun of
it would also be sufficiently twisted to get a kick out of killing horses.
An almost crippling pang of fear flashed through her as she thought of Goodheart
out there in the stable all by himself. For a moment, she could not move.
Around her, the night seemed even quieter than it had been.
It was quieter. The crickets were no longer chirruping. The frogs had stopped
croaking, too.
The galleon clouds seemed to have dropped anchor in the sky, and the night
appeared to have frozen in the ice-pale glow of the moon.
Something moved in the shrubbery.
Most of the enormous lot was devoted to open expanses of lawn, but a score of
trees stood in artfully placed groups—mostly Indian laurels and jacarandas, plus
a couple of corals—and there were beds of azaleas, California lilac bushes, Cape
honeysuckles.
Tracy distinctly heard shrubbery rustling as something pushed roughly and
hurriedly through it. But when she switched on the flashlight and swept the beam
around the nearest plantings, she could not see anything moving.