The Night Is Forever koh-11

by Heather Graham

  He’d need an army to find someone out there.

  He walked around the house with Olivia at his heels. Sammy trailed along, wagging his tail. The dog was a perfect monitor, and his actions certainly didn’t signal that anyone else was present. Whoever had been there was definitely gone.

  There was no indication that anyone had tried to break window locks, although he could well imagine the route someone might have taken to do so.

  When he’d completed a circuit around the house, Dustin inspected the ground as best he could in the dark, with only his flashlight to provide illumination. He headed toward the trail that wound through the trees and led to Willis House, but there was no sign that someone had come through. It might not have meant much in any case, since there was national parkland that wove in and out around them. People could easily wander off government land and onto private property without ever knowing it.

  At last, he stopped and turned to look at her.

  “I’m sorry. There’s no way for me to find anything now.”

  “That’s okay,” Olivia said. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “It’s what I do, ma’am,” he said lightly.

  She turned and walked back to the house. He followed her thoughtfully.

  “We’ll have coffee,” she said. Then she stopped and looked back at him. “Well, I guess that was presumptuous. I’m going to make coffee. It’s past five and I don’t see any reason to go back to sleep. But, of course, you might want to. Anyway, Sammy and I are fine now. Really.”

  He could tell that she wasn’t fine; she was afraid. But she was going to try hard not to show it.

  “Coffee would be great, and you’re right. It’s morning. It’ll be light soon. No sense going back to bed.”

  She unlocked the door and walked inside, flipping on lights. She paused for a minute, as if trying to sense something.

  “He isn’t here, is he?” Dustin asked.

  “Marcus, you mean?”

  “Right.”

  “The bastard said he was coming back. To watch over me. He didn’t.”

  “In all seriousness—although I suppose he could warn you if there’s trouble—I’m not sure what he could do. You made the right call. The pun’s accidental, but it’s still true.”

  “You’re better than 9-1-1?”

  “You tell me.”

  She didn’t answer, but moved on into the kitchen. There were old attractively refurbished stable stools in front of the counter. Dustin sat on one of them, watching as she returned the waffle iron to a lower cabinet and set about making coffee.

  “I don’t understand,” she mused. “Why would someone come to my house like that? It would be hard to break in during the middle of the night and make it look as if I had a terrible accident.”

  “When someone with the right agenda wants in, they’ll get in,” Dustin said. “But no one tried to break a window or shoot up a door. My guess is that this was just a trial run, a way of testing the waters.”

  “So someone’s out to get me—because of what I’ve been saying?” she asked.

  Sammy whined and settled at his feet. Dustin leaned down for a moment to pat the dog. When he looked up, she was at the counter, waiting for him to face her, waiting for his reply.

  “I would guess that’s it, yes,” he told her. “Here’s the good thing. Whoever’s doing this hasn’t gotten to a point where they’re desperate. This person is just...researching the situation right now.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Tell everyone you’re getting an alarm system.”

  “And then?”

  “Get an alarm system.”

  “Oh!”

  “Listen, no one else believes that Marcus met with foul play. Well, other people might suspect it, but the police found nothing that would lend to more of an investigation than the one that’s been done. You can’t blame them. They found you with a man who was already dead. Thankfully, he’d been dead for hours, or you might’ve ended up as a suspect. But they found a man who’d been an addict dead with heroin in his system. There was no one around and no sign that anyone had been. There were no obvious marks on his body, other than those attributed to the fall.”

  “There were also no needles or drug paraphernalia,” she reminded him sharply.

  “True, but no addict keeps his stash where it can easily be discovered.”

  The coffee gurgled its last and she poured them both cups.

  “The attorney’s coming to the Horse Farm today to explain the will and dole out the individual bequests Marcus left.”

  “Just go, listen, watch other people. And as soon as possible, call an alarm system company.”

  “You don’t think that’s kind of paranoid?”

  “Paranoid is better than—” He broke off. He’d been about to say dead. “You’ve heard the old adage a thousand times. Better safe than sorry.”

  She smiled at that. She’d known what he’d been about to say. “Would you hang around down here for a few minutes while I go up and get ready for the day?”

  “Of course.”

  She’d drunk half her coffee. Leaving it, she turned around and dashed up the stairs.

  He was going to be sorry to see the beautiful robe go, he thought.

  Restlessly, he walked the ground floor of the house, checking windows as he went. The place was sealed tight. He sat in the parlor, thinking about the psychology of what had happened. Whoever had done this wasn’t a serial killer with a penchant for a certain physical type; this was a person or persons with an agenda.

  Dustin knew he should be looking for someone who was after something that wasn’t obvious. Or maybe Marcus’s killer had been seeking revenge for some reason. But if revenge was the only agenda, why come after anyone else?

  No, fear of discovery had to be the motive for targeting Olivia Gordon. What did she know that she didn’t even realize she knew?

  And how far was the killer willing to go to safeguard a secret?

  Olivia came down the stairs, Sammy at her heels. It was barely seven and beginning to get light outside.

  He rose. “I have an idea. Go to the café in your car. I’ll get my own car and follow you. You are allowed to dine with ‘guests’ if you happen to arrive at a restaurant at the same time?”

  “Yes, we always run into people at the café and there’s never been any kind of policy against sharing a meal. After all, we do the camping trips, Mariah runs her ghost tours... I’m sure that ‘running into you’ will be fine.”

  She seemed grateful for the suggestion.

  He collected his backpack; she picked up a shoulder bag.

  “All right, Olivia, I know I already mentioned this, but it’s important. You need to make it known that you’re hiring an alarm company.”

  “What reason would I give for suddenly doing that?”

  “You say you heard noises—and that you’re far away from anyone else. You’re just feeling nervous, that’s all.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  They headed out.

  At the door, Sammy whined. “You need to protect the homefront,” Olivia told him, then locked the door, checking it a couple of times.

  She got in her car; he waited until she was safe inside, backing out onto the drive. Then he followed. As they approached the café, he slowed his car. He wanted her to be there for a few minutes before he joined her.

  And yet, he wondered if whoever had attempted entry at her house had been there all the while, hidden somewhere in the trees.

  Watching him watch Olivia.

  * * *

  Olivia was the first customer to arrive at the café that morning. Behind the counter, still setting up, Delilah looked at her with surprise. “Liv, honey! What are you doing here so early?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and I didn’t feel like my own company,” Olivia explained.

  Delilah nodded as if she understood. “I hear ya, honey. I know you people at the Horse Farm have to meet up w
ith Marcus’s attorney this morning. That’s going to be hard for you.”

  “I’m okay, Delilah,” Olivia said. And she was, although she felt angry with Marcus. Not the anger that typically came with grief, in which a person was angry about being abandoned by a loved one; she would have recognized such an emotion. No, she was angry with Marcus’s spirit—a spirit who showed up to shock her and then disappeared just when he was needed. A ghost who didn’t bother to return when he’d promised he would.

  “I’ve just gotten this new-fangled machine in here.” Delilah pointed at a shiny silver contraption. “Makes a perfect espresso every time, according to the box. You want to try one?”

  “Hmm. I’d love a cup of regular coffee—with a shot of espresso,” Olivia said.

  “Hey, great idea. Maybe I should try one of those myself. I’ve been working long hours lately. My waitress—you remember that sweet young thing, Genie?—she took off for Nashville last week. Decided she was going to get a job in the city. Can’t say as I blame her. I mean, folks out here like country and the city is close enough...but a young girl? She needed more. So, anyway, to make a long story short, I’ve been filling in mornings and nights. But I own the place and Steve back there has been my cook for the past twenty years. Reckon we’ll make it till we get some help.” Delilah grinned wickedly. Steve was her husband as well as her chief cook and bottle washer.

  “If I hear of anyone looking for work, I’ll send them your way,” Olivia said. She pulled out her smartphone and started looking for area alarm companies.

  “What ya doin’, honey? Can I help?” Delilah asked.

  “Oh, I’m going to get an alarm system installed,” Olivia replied.

  “Out here? We never have trouble out here. Of course, I’ve got my man and a shotgun if anyone’s going to give me trouble!”

  Olivia shook her head. “I don’t have a man or a shotgun.”

  Delilah wagged a finger at her. “You should get yourself a man, Liv. Pretty little thing like you. Just ’cause that ornery Bill Preston decided to up and head on out of your life... And that was more than a year ago!”

  Olivia sighed. She’d been in an almost-live-in relationship with a music promoter. After a trip to Austin, he’d discovered some great opportunities there. It had come time for her to weigh the importance of the relationship. She hadn’t been in love. Not enough to leave.

  “Bill’s a good guy—we were just going different places, Delilah.”

  Delilah tsked at her, then selected a little pod for her new machine; her frown became a smile of pleasure when her espresso machine instantly began to steam up and pour out dark brown liquid. She prepared the coffee, added the espresso and set it before Olivia. “I should name this concoction after you!” she said proudly.

  “Oh, I don’t think it really needs a name,” Olivia told her. “The chain coffee shops have it already, I’m afraid. They just call it coffee with a shot of espresso.”

  “Here’s it going to be a ‘Liv’!” Delilah insisted.

  The door opened and Dustin made his entrance. “Morning, Delilah,” he said. “Good morning, Olivia.” He walked up to take a seat at the counter beside her.

  “My, my, you folks are up early today,” Delilah remarked. “Nice to see you, Agent Blake. Sorry—Dustin.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How about a ‘Liv’?” Delilah offered.

  “A Liv?” he asked with a question in his eyes as he smiled over at her.

  The man had a good smile, Olivia thought. At the moment, it revealed charm and a touch of amusement. He really was a perfect man—lean, hard-muscled and fit. His skin was slightly bronzed, his eyes a striking deep green and his shock of neatly clipped hair defined the concept of auburn.

  She hoped he couldn’t read her thoughts. She felt her cheeks flush and spoke quickly to cover her embarrassment. “I happen to be the first person Delilah’s ever served a coffee with an espresso thrown in. She’s going to call it a ‘Liv’ from now on.”

  “Oh,” he said gravely, turning to Delilah. “Sounds wonderful. Looks wonderful. How does it taste?”

  “It’s excellent,” Olivia assured him.

  “Guess when you’re up and at ’em this early, makes good sense,” Delilah said. “So, did you find an alarm company, hon? I can’t really help—we never needed an alarm around here, you know?”

  “I found one.” Olivia stood up. “Excuse me while I give them a call.” She walked down to the end of the little diner. The office was open and she arranged for a technician to come out on Saturday. That was the earliest someone would be available.

  It would have to do, she told herself. Two days. She returned to her chair.

  “Any luck, honey?” Delilah asked.

  “Yeah, I’m all set up.”

  Delilah turned to Dustin. “I said I couldn’t advise her. I’ve got a shotgun—and a man.” She nodded knowingly, then gestured at Olivia. “Can you imagine? This sweet young thing was with a fella who lit out for Austin!”

  Olivia could feel Dustin’s eyes on her.

  She groaned. “Delilah, he’s making a great living in Austin and I’m happy for him. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

  “Some people are fine, you know,” Dustin said. There was amusement in his voice. But he seemed to sense her discomfort and changed the subject.

  “I’d love to have a ‘Liv,’ too,” he said. “And some of your pancakes, please.”

  Olivia decided on an omelet.

  Whistling, Delilah conveyed their orders to Steve and set to work on Dustin’s coffee. After glancing at Olivia and obviously trying not to grin, Dustin chatted casually, asking her how they went about choosing the right horses to work with people.

  “Well, obviously, when Marcus brought in a rescue animal with bad kicking habits, or one that nipped, we kept working the horse ourselves.”

  “And could you retrain all of them so they could work with others?” he asked.

  “Most of the time, rescues have been neglected but they can work well with people and enjoy human interaction. Every once in a while, though, we’ve gotten a horse that was so abused it could never be assigned to anyone who wasn’t experienced with horses.”

  “And then?”

  Olivia shrugged. “And then one of the staff would just keep working with the horse or sometimes use it for group trail rides. Occasionally, if a horse had been so abused that Marcus could never feel comfortable allowing anyone to ride it, the horse was just retired and allowed to stay in the paddocks for the duration of its natural life.” She looked straight ahead for a moment. “Marcus made the Horse Farm a no-kill shelter.”

  “Nice,” he said quietly.

  The door opened, and Olivia twisted her head to see who had arrived.

  It was Deputy Sheriff Frank Vine. He’d been on duty the day Marcus had disappeared. For a cop, Frank was an exceptionally gentle man. Fifty-something, with hair that was almost pure white and a laid-back manner, Frank could be tough, but he listened, weighing every situation carefully.

  He’d even listened to her when she’d found Marcus. He’d soothed her and told her sadly that people didn’t always live up to their own expectations or those of others. It didn’t make them bad people. They just hadn’t had the strength they’d needed.

  “Morning, Frank,” she said.

  “Olivia, good morning. And how are you doing, young lady?” he asked, sliding onto the stool to her left. He beamed at Delilah and then leaned back, unabashedly studying Dustin. “Hello, sir.”

  “Frank Vine, Dustin Blake.” Olivia made quick introductions. Dustin stood for a moment to shake Frank’s hand. Delilah came over with a cup and the coffeepot. “Morning, Deputy Frank,” she said. “Dustin here is one of your own. A federal officer of the law.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Frank looked at Dustin again. “Are you out here for any special reason?”

  “I am. I’m attending the Horse Farm,” Dustin said.

  “Oh.” Frank nodded but obviously remained
curious.

  “And I’m originally from Nashville.”

  “Ah.” That seemed to make sense to Frank. “Our own Music City.” His pride in Nashville was evident.

  “No better place,” Dustin agreed.

  Frank nodded happily; Dustin had made a friend.

  “I hear the Horse Farm had to do a lot of rescheduling this morning, because the lawyer’s coming to discuss the terms of Marcus Danby’s will,” Frank said.

  “It’s a formality, but I guess it’s necessary,” Olivia put in.

  “Deputy,” Dustin began. “I’m curious. I believe the medical examiner concluded that Marcus Danby’s death was accidental. The result of a fall, possibly brought on by a mind-altering substance. Heroin. Where did Marcus inject?”

  Frank’s face turned a mottled red. “The usual,” he murmured.

  “Vein in the arm?” Dustin asked. “I guess at his point in his life—when he fell back into drugs—he wouldn’t have collapsed veins, and the needle mark would’ve been easy for the medical pathologist to find.”

  “Right,” Frank said. He looked over at Dustin. “He was a mighty fine man and the Horse Farm is a mighty fine place. We don’t judge Marcus harshly, and we ask you not to do so, either. You’re here for healing, I imagine, son, so let the healing begin. Now, Liv,” Frank said, turning to her. “Today will make things all legal. Aaron takes over, and that’s fitting. Aaron’s been Marcus’s right-hand man for over a decade now. But...I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What’s that, Frank?”

  “There’s a big old yellow dog on the property. Marcus came back with him after a trip to Memphis. He was at some animal shelter over there and was running out of days,” Frank said.

  “Homer. He’s some kind of Lab mix—probably about three or four years old. He’s a great dog.”

  “I’d like to have him. Think you could make that happen for me? Marcus might’ve left him to you in his will. He liked the big old mutt almost as much as his Sammy.”