Fifth Victim by Zoe Sharp

obey my instant go-stop commands.
    Dina was floundering on the ground. I jumped down alongside her and ran my hands quickly along her limbs, despite her gasping protests. All her bones were the shape they were supposed to be, and she gave no flinches of pain anywhere.
    Just winded, I concluded. Wounded only in pride .
    I sat back on my heels, saw that Raleigh had managed to recapture Cerdo, who was looking more frightened than triumphant by the success of the ditching operation.
    Dina scowled in his general direction, although to be fair she might have been pulling a face at her instructor as much as her horse.
    ‘What did I tell you?’ she muttered. ‘Lives up to his name, huh?’
    I put out my hand to help her to her feet and murmured quickly, ‘He’s confused and frustrated, Dina. You’re pushing him too fast and he doesn’t understand what you want. Have you come off him before?’ She shook her head, watching as Raleigh walked the horse back towards us. ‘Well, he’s just scared himself as much as you – look at him. Take five or ten minutes just to walk him round and reassure him that he can trust you again, otherwise that’s not going to be the first time you bite the dust today.’
    She threw me an entirely disbelieving look as she slapped the loose sand off her clothing, but when Raleigh brusquely ordered her to get back up there and do it again, she looked him firmly in the eye and said she wanted to give the horse a breather to resettle him.
    Raleigh shrugged as if to say the meter was running and it was up to her how she spent the remaining time, but agreed more readily than I’d been expecting, giving Dina a leg-up into the saddle and watching them walk away on a loose rein. Maybe he, too, had realised they’d been getting nowhere. Somehow I doubted I’d get him to say so out loud.
    ‘Go easier on her,’ I said to him, keeping my tone light to offset the words. ‘They both need a bit more confidence in each other before they aim for greatness.’
    The Australian gave me a calculating glance, then went back to studying Dina, walking large circles at the far end of the arena. She was leaning forward to stroke the white horse’s neck and was talking softly to him. Cerdo had started to relax, his stride smoothing out and one ear flicking back and forth to listen to her.
    ‘Shame it’s not you on that horse,’ Raleigh said, keeping his own voice low. ‘Got some great potential.’
    ‘Oh yeah? I thought I was a useless Pommie bastard,’ I said dryly.
    ‘I was talking about the horse,’ he said, back to arrogance, but there was a smile lurking behind his eyes as he looked down at me. ‘And you are bloody useless – when you’re deliberately not trying.’
    I didn’t answer that, just said, ‘I’ll put Geronimo away, if you don’t mind? I think the old boy’s about had enough for today.’
    He waved me away, his interest lost. We were only a short distance from the gate out of the arena and I didn’t bother remounting to get there. Raleigh did not offer me a helping hand back into the saddle, in any case.
    As I reached the gate, one of the army of teenage girls who seemed to hang around the riding club just to be near the horses appeared and offered to walk Geronimo round for me to cool off. ‘So’s you can watch your friend ride.’
    Dina was still slowly circling, watched by Raleigh who seemed content, for the moment, not to interrupt.
    I thanked my wannabe groom and climbed the wooden steps to the café balcony, peeling off my gloves and riding helmet as I went. The latter left me with worse hat-hair than any bike lid ever did.
    When I reached the small balcony overlooking the arena, there was only one person in occupation. He was sprawled at the end table, with a large coffee, an expensive sleek cellphone and an extreme-sports magazine on the surface in front of him. His style of dress leant very much towards urban, rather than rural – baggy jeans and a huge warm-up jacket and