The Night Is Forever koh-11

by Heather Graham

  Their mouths met in a kiss that seemed desperate. But she had to touch him, all of him, taste him, feel his heat and passion rush through her. She felt his lips, his tongue, move over her breasts and down to her belly and below, felt his vibrant life and strength. The pulse of the world became that of her heart as she kissed and teased and stroked him in return. She crawled atop him and looked into his eyes, and he smiled and grasped her, and then he was in her.... The first time was frantic.

  The second began slowly...and became frantic.

  They lay together, panting, slick and sweaty and still entangled, and she breathed again.

  “Hot enough?” he asked, his voice a teasing whisper in her ear.

  “I feel like an inferno,” she whispered back.

  She felt her heart begin to slow. She touched him again. The third time their lovemaking remained slow for long enough that she kissed nearly every inch of his flesh, felt his fingers touch her everywhere, felt the passion in his kiss. They spiraled out of control and lay entwined together once again.

  She nearly dozed and then realized he still lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

  He sensed her movement.

  “I was just thinking about what Jane and Sloan told us,” he said. “I still can’t believe a Nashville lawyer could have pulled any of this off without insider assistance. I somehow doubt he’s really involved, except in a nominal way. Besides, there’s other property available in the Tennessee hills. It has to be more personal and yet...that might well be the key.”

  “And I thought you were dreaming about hot and sweaty.”

  He grinned and pulled her close. “We’re almost there,” he said.

  “Almost?”

  “No, no, I meant almost as in discovering what’s going on.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “We know it’s someone who has something to do with the Horse Farm—”

  “You’ve said that from the beginning.”

  “But...now I’m positive that two people had to be involved.” He rolled over to look at her. “Two people—that means each of the killers can have an alibi. For instance, we wouldn’t think it was Sandra because Joey saw her. We wouldn’t think it was Sydney because he was watching over the Horse Farm while we were out camping. We wouldn’t think it was Mariah—because she was screaming while Aaron was on the verge of drowning.”

  “So where does that get us? We wouldn’t think it was Aaron—because he actually wound up dead?”

  “There’ll be a way to trip someone up,” Dustin said. “Now...”

  “We’ll trip them up now?”

  “No, I think we’re ready to get hot and sweaty again now.”

  She laughed and curled into his arms as he kissed her. And she wished the night could go on forever.

  Eventually, they both slept.

  * * *

  When Olivia woke the next morning, she saw that his eyes were still closed. She started to get out of bed, trying not to disturb him. But she saw him smile and realized he’d probably wake at the slightest sound.

  “You look cute, cuddled there,” she told him.

  “Cute?” he asked indignantly.

  “I’m going to go put coffee on.”

  Sliding from bed, she slipped into her robe. She was surprised that Sammy wasn’t sleeping at his usual post in the hallway.

  “Sammy?” she called. His food and water bowl were in the kitchen, and she assumed he’d gotten tired of waiting for her.

  Still, she walked cautiously down the stairs.

  When she reached the landing, she paused, gasping.

  There was Sammy. He was curled at the foot of the sofa, lying near the first of the three men in her parlor—Marcus Danby, who sat at one end.

  General Rufus Cunningham sat in the wing-back chair, straight and dignified as ever in his uniform, his cavalry hat in his lap.

  Aaron Bentley was at the other end of the sofa.

  When he saw her, he rose.

  “I did not kill Marcus!” he said, his words trembling with passion. “And I most certainly did not idiotically kill myself!”

  18

  Dustin practically flew out of bed, wrapping himself in the sheet and grabbing his Glock when he heard the voices downstairs. He raced to the first-floor landing—and then saw the strange trio in the house.

  “Agent Blake,” Aaron said, “nice of you to join us. I was just explaining to Olivia that, no, I didn’t kill myself. Nor did I kill Marcus.”

  Dustin looked at Olivia. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered.

  He headed back upstairs, still shaking. The sound of the voices in the house had scared the hell out of him; he was still afraid Olivia was at risk. He couldn’t allow himself to get comfortable right now, he reminded himself harshly.

  This time, the house was filled with ghosts—with the dead. Next time, it just might be the living.

  The lethal living.

  He had to move when she moved, hell, breathe when she breathed. And if he wasn’t with her—in the same space—another agent had to be.

  Dressed, he came back downstairs.

  He was truly astonished to see the Civil War general—with the two very recent ghosts.

  Aaron was wearing a handsome suit—and his cowboy boots. Dustin figured Sandra Cheever had brought the clothing to the funeral director.

  “We’re here to help,” Marcus told him. “The general’s been teaching me. With his help, I made it all the way to the mortuary. I was very proud of myself. Aaron was still reeling at the fact of his death. We were able to make him see more than himself in the present—that is, fried.”

  Aaron winced. “Marcus—”

  “Gentlemen, you are beyond all earthly cares now, other than to help those who remain,” the general said.

  “So who the hell did it?” Dustin asked. “And don’t tell me you don’t know.”

  Aaron stared back at him. “I don’t know,” he said.

  Dustin turned to Olivia and groaned.

  “You have to know something,” he insisted.

  “Tell him what you do know—what you believe, son,” the general said. “You people were good for these hills, and now... I cannot bear this kind of treachery. Where has honor gone?” he declaimed.

  Aaron looked from the general back to Dustin. “I’m dead—and I still can’t bear the pain of it. And I’m being badgered by the past.” He glanced significantly at Cunningham.

  “Honor should not be in the past, sir!” the general said.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Aaron said. “I’m just...”

  The ghost of Aaron Bentley faded. “He’s really not very good at being dead yet,” Marcus told them. “I think, perhaps, I was better adapted.... In my misspent youth, I came close to dying many times.” He straightened. “We did learn something from Aaron—something that may be important, and something you would probably have discovered in your questioning. Aaron doesn’t want to believe that Sandra could be involved in any way—he loved her, you see. But she was the only one besides him who had a key to his house. He’s convinced that whoever killed him was in the house when he arrived. He says he came in, threw his mail on the table and decided that he smelled like antiseptic from the hospital. He went straight to the bathroom, decided to linger in the tub and listen to music. He turned on his iPod, crawled in and closed his eyes. Next thing he knew the iPod station came flying into the water and he was burning in agony.”

  “I’m calling Frank Vine,” Dustin told Olivia. “He needs to bring Sandra Cheever back to the station. At the very least, he can grill her about her key to Aaron’s house.”

  “I’ll get dressed,” Olivia said, and went upstairs.

  Aaron was probably still among them, but couldn’t be seen or heard. Dustin called Frank, who sounded tired. “I already questioned her. She couldn’t have killed him.”

  “She was the only one with a key, Frank. She has to have given that key to someone.”

  “What the hell? You come
down here, then. I’ll bring her in—but you ask the questions.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Can’t get much worse around here,” Frank muttered.

  Dustin sighed. “It can always get worse—that’s why this has to be solved now.” He hung up and turned back to the duo still in the parlor.

  “He should’ve been more careful after nearly dying at the stream,” Marcus said sadly. “Aaron should’ve been...afraid.”

  As Dustin had assumed, Aaron was still there—just not visible. “Hey,” he protested. “I was in my own house and there was a deputy posted outside. I should’ve had a dog,” he said mournfully. “I should have taken one of those rescue mutts. A dog would have barked. Warned me. Oh, wait—that didn’t help you, Marcus, did it?”

  “Aaron, I have an important question. Why did you buy that artwork?” Dustin asked. “That rendering of the general?”

  Aaron didn’t answer. He seemed to have lost the energy to speak now, as well.

  “He bought it because he wanted it for the Horse Farm. He thought Mariah would love it—that it would be great when she was telling her ghost stories,” Marcus explained.

  Olivia came back down the stairs, ready for the day in jeans and a denim shirt, her bag thrown over her shoulder.

  “We’re going to go through everything with Sandra one more time. And then we’re going to tear the Horse Farm apart,” Dustin said.

  “We’ll keep watch,” Marcus said. “We’ll split up and...” He sighed. “Thing is, we can’t be everywhere.”

  “Sammy, look after the house,” Olivia said.

  They left. For once, Sammy didn’t care. Marcus had risen, but Sammy was still at his feet.

  Dustin tossed Olivia the keys. “You drive. I’ll make calls.” She nodded and slid behind the wheel.

  First, he called Malachi, who said he and Abby were still going through Marcus’s house, hoping to find something. Dustin told Malachi about the ghosts in Olivia’s parlor—and that he was going down to the station to question Sandra again.

  Then he called Sloan at the Horse Farm and gave him the latest information.

  Sloan asked him, “Can Olivia hear me right now?”

  Dustin glanced at her. She couldn’t hear, he decided.

  “No.”

  “You may want to bring her here first. Drew suggested it. He’s called the vet because there’s something wrong with her horse.”

  Dustin barely prevented himself from saying, “Shiloh?”

  “Drew says it might be colic. He might have gotten hold of something bad for him out in the pasture.”

  “All right, you two—”

  “Stay on that horse like flies. I know, Dustin. Don’t worry. We’ll watch over her or die in the attempt. You know that.” He paused. “I guess you’d better tell her.”

  “Yeah,” he said thickly.

  Dustin ended the call and looked at Olivia. “Head over to the Horse Farm. I’m going to leave you there with Sloan and Jane.”

  “Oh?”

  “They’re getting the vet out. I’m afraid there’s something wrong with Shiloh.”

  Her skin grew ashen but she concentrated on the road, carefully taking the next turn.

  “People are dead,” she said, her voice heavy. “And still... I love that horse.”

  “It’s okay to love your horse.”

  They arrived at the ranch minutes later. Olivia had barely turned off the ignition when she was out of the car and racing for the stables. As he followed, he saw that Drew was there, coming toward her. Dustin heard Sloan call his name and turned to see him leaving the office.

  Dustin slowed as he saw Drew give Olivia a hug and talk to her. Sloan reached Dustin’s side.

  “The vet’s delayed. Apparently, there’s only one guy in the immediate area and he was called to a dairy farm some distance away,” Sloan explained. “Drew had just come to tell me this when you phoned. He gave me a few other numbers but it’ll be at least half an hour before anyone can get out here.”

  “How bad is it? You know horses.”

  Sloan kept his own horses at a farm in Virginia, close to their base. “Looks to me like it’s just a matter of very mild colic. Shiloh’s down right now, but I believe he’s going to be all right. Right after I talked to you, Drew and Sydney and I got a hose down his throat and did a decent job of pumping his stomach.”

  “Thanks, Sloan,” Dustin said. He and Sloan hurried to the stables and over to Shiloh’s stall. Olivia was in with the horse. Shiloh lay on the ground, but his head was up.

  “His eyes are brighter,” Drew remarked. “Sloan, you made the right call.”

  “I hope so,” Sloan said.

  “Thank you, Sloan,” Olivia was kneeling on the ground by her horse. She looked up at Dustin, and there was anger in her eyes now. “Go to the station,” she told him. “Go! I’m fine. I want you to find out who did this!”

  “You...you think someone poisoned the horse?” Drew asked.

  “I do—and I’ll find out who did it!” Olivia said. “Or, rather, we’ll find out.”

  Dustin nodded. “All right. I’m on my way. Don’t make a move without Sloan or Jane, Olivia.”

  “I won’t be making a move, period—not until the vet comes and we’re sure Shiloh’s okay,” Olivia said. “Go. Sandra knows something—and I want to know what!”

  Dustin looked at Sloan and turned back to the car. He drove fast. If a deputy stopped him now, he’d just say he was on his way to see Frank Vine.

  * * *

  It was wrong, Olivia told herself, to feel such intense anger and fear over Shiloh when people were dead. But the general, who’d kept his horse haunting the hills with him for a century and a half, and Marcus, who had loved all living creatures, would understand. Aaron... Maybe he wouldn’t understand completely.

  She was encouraged, though. Drew had described how the horse was at first—eyes rheumy, unable to stand, wobbling. Now, since they’d pumped his stomach, he seemed to be on the mend.

  She hugged the horse’s neck, just sitting with him. He nudged her and gave a little whinny. She stroked his big, beautiful head and curled his forelock with her fingers.

  “You’re going to be okay. It’s not a bad thing to have a cowboy around, huh?”

  “Liv, I’ll go in and get you a cup of coffee,” Drew told her. “Sloan’s right here, and Sydney’s in his room, within shouting distance. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “That sounds great, Drew.” Olivia said gratefully. She glanced up. Sloan was on guard, smiling at her from the stall gate. “The horse is going to make it, Liv.”

  She nodded. “Thanks to you.”

  “It’s also thanks to Drew and Sydney. They run a good stable here.”

  She nodded, but before Sloan could speak again, they heard a shout from the office.

  “Hey!”

  Sloan frowned and backed away from the stall, peering through the stable entrance to the office. Olivia jumped up to join him and together they started toward the office.

  Drew was running in their direction.

  “Jane! It’s Jane. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with her. She’s down.”

  “Down?” Sloan shouted. “Stay with me!” he ordered Olivia, and tore for the house.

  Olivia did stay with him—right on his heels. Sloan burst into the office and she ran in behind him.

  Jane Everett was on the sofa; she’d been there with her computer, a cup of coffee on the driftwood coffee table in front of her.

  She had collapsed onto her side. Her computer lay haphazardly on the floor.

  Sloan rushed to her.

  “A dart! Look for a dart—a small dart somewhere!” Olivia told him. She fell onto her knees by Jane’s left side as Sloan took the right.

  Olivia saw the tiny dart that had struck Jane; she reached for it. “Sloan! I’ve got the dart.”

  But even as he turned to her, reaching for his gun, she heard a “zzzz” in the air.

  The big co
wboy fell onto his partner and beloved. Olivia ducked close to the couch, trying to see who was in the office shooting the darts.

  She stared at the door, but the sunlight was streaming in. She couldn’t see the man’s face. And then...

  “Drew!” she gasped.

  * * *

  “I just don’t know what you’re going to get out of the woman,” Frank Vine muttered to Dustin. “She has an answer for everything—and I don’t have a single thing to hold her on.”

  They were in the observation room. Jimmy Callahan stood watching Sandra while Frank and Dustin talked.

  “Hold her on suspicion of murder,” Dustin said.

  “With what proof? We have nothing! No district attorney would be able to take this case to court!”

  “I doubt if Sandra knows that. Just tell her she’s going to be booked for murder. Then I’ll go in.”

  Dustin watched as Frank went to talk to Sandra. She immediately flew from her chair in a fury, telling him he was an idiot.

  “Strange, huh, that they called her Mama Cheever? She’s a real virago. I guess she ran a tight ship, though. But it seems like she did love Aaron. You really think she might have killed him?” Callahan asked.

  “She didn’t do the deed—but I think that, somehow or other, she was in on it.”

  Frank returned to the observation area. “She’s all yours,” he said.

  Dustin nodded and walked into the interrogation room. Sandra watched him suspiciously, radiating pure tension. “You,” she spat. “You are a despicable federal ass!”

  “Sandra, you were the only one who had a key to Aaron’s house—besides Aaron.” Something in her manner changed slightly.

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “You loved him and you were having an affair with him. Are you telling me you didn’t have his key?”

  “Of course I had his key! But how the hell would I know just how many keys Aaron had out there?”

  “He didn’t have any other keys out there, Sandra.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Aaron told me.”

  “Aaron? Aaron is dead.”

  “Yes. Yes, he is.”