CHAPTER 4: The Secrets of the Old Well
The chase through the mud and darkness was chaotic. Police SUVs tracked the stallion’s glowing reflective tack as he tore through the rolling pastures. Victor Hale was forced to follow in the back of a police vehicle, his hands tightly cuffed behind his back as a precautionary measure for obstructing a federal investigation.
Midnight Eclipse didn't stop until he reached the ruins of the old foundation wall, a section of the property that had been destroyed by a fire ten years ago. The area was overgrown with thorns, briars, and rotting timber. At the very center of the ruins sat an old, capped stone well, covered by a massive, rusted iron plate and secured with heavy padlocks.
The stallion stood directly over the iron plate, his chest heaving, his coat slick with rain and sweat. He began to frantically strike the iron plate with his front hooves, the metallic clanging sound echoing through the dark woods like a funeral knell. He threw his head back, letting out a mournful, crying wail that sounded deeply human.
Forensic units rushed forward with flashlights, floodlights, and industrial cutting tools. Within twenty minutes, the heavy iron plate was sliced away, exposing the deep, pitch-black cavern of the forgotten well.
A high-tech digital camera probe was lowered into the depths. The video feed was transmitted directly to a monitor in the back of Detective Vance’s mobile command unit.
For the first few seconds, there was only static and grey stone walls. Then, the camera reached the muddy floor thirty feet below. The bright halogen lights illuminated a pair of heavy leather riding boots, a decayed canvas jacket bearing the official logo of Hollow Creek Training, and the unmistakable glint of a silver pocket watch—a retirement gift that the racing community had presented to Thomas Evans two years prior.
Detective Vance stepped out of the vehicle, his face hardened into a mask of iron determination. He walked over to the police car where Victor Hale was sitting.
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"It's over, Victor," Vance said, opening the door. "We found Thomas. And the forensics team is already analyzing the unique security padlocks on that iron plate. I have a strong feeling the key to those locks is sitting right inside your private office safe."
Victor’s eyes bulged with terror. He looked past the detective, out into the pouring rain, where the little girl and the giant black stallion stood side by side in the brilliant glow of the police searchlights. The billionaire’s empire, built on a foundation of lies and blood, had just collapsed because of a creature that could not speak a single word.
