“Why? Because you know it’s all over? That someone will come searching for the two of us.”
“If they do, we’ll go out together,” Mariah promised her sweetly. She smiled. “You’re always telling the kids to do their best—to reach for what they want and work hard to achieve it. I’m just listening to you, Olivia. So, keep moving. We’re almost there.”
They rode again and came to the point in the copse where they had to dismount so they could walk the trail to the cemetery.
“Do you think the general’s going to hang around his grave?” Olivia asked.
“You’d better hope,” Mariah muttered. “Now, get down.”
Olivia dismounted. Mariah waved the gun she was carrying.
“Move.”
Olivia followed the trail to the small cemetery where General Rufus Cunningham’s mortal remains lay buried. It was still daylight, but the surrounding trees shaded them from the sun.
* * *
The cemetery, situated in the shadow of the forest, was touched by traces of sunlight. It was difficult to tell if anyone had used the trail leading to the cemetery in the past hour or so. Although there were a few signs of recent use, he couldn’t be sure. Still, as they neared the small collection of graves, Dustin became convinced that he was right—and that Jimmy Callahan had been right, as well.
He reined in before they came to the clearing in the woods. Behind him, Malachi and Abby stopped, too.
He slid down from Chapparal and walked back to Malachi. “There are some broken branches here that seem fresh. I think they dismounted a short distance ahead and walked to the cemetery. There’s really only one main trail. I’m going to crawl through some of the trees and bushes to approach from the other side.” He hesitated. “If I get a clean shot at Mariah...”
“Take it,” Malachi told him. “I intend to do the same. Abby and I will tether the horses and come up along the old trail.”
Dustin tried to move as quietly as possible—and as quickly as possible.
He thought of the different situations he’d faced in his life.
This was just one woman.
One crazy-ass woman with a gun—a gun she was pointing at Olivia.
He paused, stepping on bracken and expecting to hear the crack of a branch. But he heard nothing. Until, moving forward, he heard voices.
“Olivia, I’m from this land—don’t you get it? This land right here. You’re from the city.”
“And don’t you get it, Mariah? It’s all connected. The city needs the country, the country needs the city. Look, if you want to see the general...you have to be open to him. And he has to be in the area.”
Malachi finally came up on the cemetery. He hid behind one of the trees that grew around the little area, as if they were nature’s homage to the dead.
They were at the general’s grave site.
Mariah had Olivia by the arm. Her gun was wedged into Olivia’s side. He could take a shot; he could kill her easily. But there was no guarantee she’d go down before she pulled her own trigger.
Mariah suddenly swung Olivia around. Dustin could see that she was sweating, agitated. The hand that held the gun against Olivia was jerky. The trigger might be pulled easily.
“Where is he?” Mariah demanded.
They were looking right at his position, right at where he stood. Dustin straightened his cavalry jacket and pulled the plumed hat he wore lower over his forehead.
“Mariah,” Olivia said. “I told you—I’ve tried to explain. Ghosts don’t appear on command. They exist, and if you’re just open to them—”
“I’ve spent my life being open to the general!” Mariah shouted. “He’s part of me, part of my soul, my existence! You’ve got ten seconds, Olivia—ten seconds!”
Olivia suddenly spun around, jerking something out from under her shirt. She fumbled with it; Mariah, thrown from her, fired.
Thankfully, the shot went wild.
Olivia fired, too. The recoil sent her falling back and she tripped, crashing into a tombstone, the gun flying from her grasp. Mariah stumbled to her feet and half walked, half crawled over to Olivia, rising with the gun aimed directly at her.
“Miss Mariah!” Dustin said in a hollow voice, stepping from the trees.
Tension knotted in him fiercely; he was no actor.
“Miss Mariah!”
Mariah turned and looked at him. For a moment, she stared at him in awe. Then she smiled and slowly raised her gun. “You’re not a ghost!” she said. “But good try, Agent Blake.”
“I’m not alone, Mariah. If you fire that gun, you’re going to go down in a hail of bullets.”
She aimed at Olivia again. “She goes with me,” Mariah said.
Dustin felt something touch him—or almost touch him. He closed his eyes, praying that the real general had come. A man seemed to rise from mist and take shape before him.
It wasn’t the general. It was Marcus Danby.
“I am a ghost, Mariah. I’m a ghost because you killed me. And because you tried to ruin the good that honest, caring people were doing. You won’t join me, Mariah, when you die. I’m not sure what lies beyond this—where I am now—but I know you won’t be there. I can feel sun and light—and all you can feel is darkness.”
Mariah’s gun remained on Olivia. She frowned, as if trying to ascertain how they’d created the illusion she was seeing.
Someone else stepped forward, entering into the green shadows of the little cemetery.
Aaron.
“We tried to get the general to come, Mariah,” Aaron said. “But he doesn’t want to know you.”
“This is bullshit!” Mariah cried. She turned to take aim at Olivia again.
Dustin moved as he’d never moved before. He was out of the trees as if he were propelled by a sudden spark of fire. He caught Mariah in a tackle and brought her down, rolling with her.
She was strong; they fought for the gun.
A shot went off and Mariah screamed in agony. Dustin tried to wrench her gun from her but it eluded them both and landed several feet away. But the woman had been shot—and he realized that Olivia had recovered her own gun and managed to fire off a round.
Despite the fact that she was bleeding, Mariah strained to reach her weapon. Yet she suddenly went still and Dustin struggled with her weight, trying to move around her. And then he saw what she saw.
The general had come. He stood with his foot on the gun.
“Not on this land!” he said. “Not on this land. Cruelty and murder will not happen, not on my land.”
Dustin inched forward; his fingers grasped the weapon and he threw Mariah off him. She huddled in a ball, sobbing.
Malachi burst into the cemetery with Abby at his side.
“It’s done,” the general said.
And he faded away. The ghost of Marcus Danby grinned and saluted Dustin, then faded, too.
Aaron, also, was gone. Malachi had rushed to his cousin’s side, while Abby assessed Mariah’s injuries.
Dustin turned quickly to reach Olivia. She was hugging Malachi, but she pulled away and smiled tremulously at him.
“You’d make a horrible reenactor,” she said.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. You, uh, need to learn how to shoot,” he told her.
She nodded. “I guess I do.”
She was shaking, but she appeared to be all right. She didn’t even seem traumatized. “The others?” she asked.
“Ambulances came pretty quickly to the Horse Farm. Sloan and Jane were already up. You managed to get the darts out of them?” he asked her.
She nodded. She started to take a step, but she wasn’t walking very well. He stopped her, looked into her eyes and muttered, “Oh, the hell with it.”
Then he swept her into his arms and headed out on the trail, leaving the shadows of the dead behind—and Malachi and Abby to deal with Mariah.
Epilogue
Mariah Naughton proved to be full of surprises—and her last surprise was especially dramat
ic.
She never reached a hospital, and she never explained her entire story. They had to piece together what they could from Jimmy Callahan, who’d been dating Mariah, and from Sandra Cheever, who was willing to do anything to get the D.A. to deal with her as leniently as possible.
What happened in the end was because Mariah had no intention of leaving “her” land. She had used a gun on Olivia, but she’d still had a supply of poisoned darts. Frank Vine arrived at the cemetery to arrest her, but before he could cuff her, she managed to use her poisons on herself—in a greater dose than she’d used on anyone else. Frank radioed for a helicopter; it came, but Mariah was pronounced dead on arrival.
Olivia tried to feel something for her. She couldn’t. She knew she should have sympathy for someone who’d lived with such a disturbed, tormented mind. She worked constantly with people who had issues and problems; she understood the addict and triggers and...
One day, she thought, she’d forgive Mariah. But it wouldn’t be for a long time.
The Horse Farm was a shambles. Mariah had set out to destroy it and she’d done an effective job. It would be hard to convince others of the good that had existed, now that Marcus, Aaron and Mariah were dead and Sandra Cheever was busy working out a plea bargain.
But on Wednesday morning, when she sat with the Krewe members and her Horse Farm team in the office, she was determined.
“We’re fired,” Drew said dully. “I understand.”
“Of course,” Sydney said.
“No. We’ll close our doors for about a week, but we’re actually in a sound financial situation. Of course, we can’t use our reserves forever or we’ll be left with no choice but to move on.”
“So what will we do?” Mason asked.
She pointed a finger at him. “Mason, you’re gorgeous—yes, we all know that and you could probably have a future as an actor or model. But you’re also a good therapist. You’ll be our new director.”
“You’re director,” he said.
“I’ll be an absentee director,” she told him. “You’ll take over as acting director. Sydney and Drew, if you don’t mind, you’ll continue sharing responsibilities as stable managers and horse masters.”
“But—” Drew began.
“I’ve already spoken with Mrs. Lockwood—Brent’s mother. He’s going to come back. Apparently he cries because he’s afraid he won’t be able to see us again. I spoke to Brent myself. He says he likes me best, but that’s okay, he’ll work with you.”
“Well, um, thanks,” Mason said, still confused.
“I’ve also spoken with Patty Sobles. Remember her? She’s one of the local women we work with. Anyway, she’s coming back. I’ve been on the phone with the parents of the kids at Parsonage House. They’ll give us another chance. As I said, we won’t open our doors for a week. Aaron deserves a good funeral with all of us at it, and Mariah... Well, we have to see that she’s buried, too. I don’t think she had any family left—maybe that’s why the land meant so much to her. Mason, you’re going to have to find a few more therapists. Oh, we’re going to steal Ellie Villiers from Willis House to run the office. She was only part-time there and she’s looking for full-time work. Mason, you’ll move into Marcus’s old house—that’ll save you from paying rent. I’ll just have you guys check on my place now and then, make sure everything’s all right.”
“So, you will come back?” Drew asked hopefully.
“I’ll always come back,” she replied. “Tennessee is my home. These hills are my home. We all have the right and even the responsibility to love the place that’s our home, to love our heritage. Mariah just let it consume her. But, yes, I will come back as often as I can.”
Sydney rose, rolling his hat in his hands as he did when he was a little nervous about what he was going to say. He looked at Dustin. “You treat her right, you understand? Your intentions had better be honorable!”
“The most honorable,” Dustin promised him. “Don’t worry—I work with her cousin.”
Sydney smiled and sat down again.
“This will work,” Olivia said. “The Horse Farm will survive. We will survive—all of us. Marcus Danby was an incredible man who did incredible things—and the Horse Farm will continue to rescue animals and we’ll continue to do our best to rescue people, as well. Just as Marcus always did.”
She smiled as everyone in the room applauded. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I—”
“I don’t get it,” Mason broke in. “Where will you be?”
“Virginia,” she said. “I’m going to the FBI Academy and I’ll take what I know in a different direction. But I’ll just be a phone call away.”
“What?” Mason said. “You—you...you don’t even like guns!”
“And I never will. However, I’ll learn how to use one,” she told him.
The room was silent. Then Mason stood up and came over to hug her. “I realize you do have other talents,” he murmured. “And we’d be selfish if we didn’t think you should use them.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, looking at the other agents in the room. He nodded shrewdly. “I read up on you people. And I know what your talents are. And... Well, I guess we have to let Olivia go.”
Olivia hugged Mason again, and then Drew and Sydney. Abby announced that she had Delilah bringing over a feast—and that today they’d celebrate the lives of Marcus Danby and Aaron Bentley and all they’d tried to do for others.
* * *
It was a nice afternoon. Olivia caught Dustin’s eye across the room; he and Sloan had been talking horses, since she intended to bring Shiloh and Chapparal to Virginia, and Sloan had the land and the stables to house them until she and Dustin could make other arrangements.
Sammy ran around the room woofing happily.
There were so many people there to pet him and make a fuss over him. But Sammy, too, would be moving.
Malachi and the others had to get back the next day, but Olivia needed to stay behind to deal with various legal matters.
Dustin stayed with her.
* * *
And so, a week later, the day before the horse trailers were ready and before she let Mason take over, Olivia and Dustin rode out to the campground. The weather was growing a little brisk, but they still played in the stream and made love beneath the moon.
When they rode back, they stopped at the cemetery where the general was buried. There was a fresh bullet hole gouging his tombstone, and Dustin looked at it regretfully.
“I don’t think he’ll mind,” Olivia said.
“Probably not. Do you think he’s still here? What about Marcus and Aaron?” Dustin asked her.
“I think Marcus and Aaron have moved on,” she said. “I’ve thought about it over the past few days. They did a lot of good while they were alive. All right, so Aaron wasn’t terribly bright in his choice of love interest, but he was a decent guy. He didn’t kill himself and we proved that. He and Marcus can both move on and I hope there is a heaven. They deserve to reach it.”
Dustin gnawed on a piece of grass and smiled, gazing up at the beautiful green overhang. “The general deserves his piece of heaven, too, but...I think he sees these hills as his heaven.”
“I think so, too,” Olivia agreed. “Do you believe in heaven?” she asked him.
He pulled her into his arms. “Every time I see your face,” he said.
He kissed her.
And Olivia was certain that whatever spirits roamed the hills, dales and forests of Tennessee, they looked on and approved.
Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
“Graham deftly weaves elements of mystery, the paranormal and romance into a tight plot that will keep the reader guessing at the true nature of the killer’s evil.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Unseen
“Suspenseful and dark.…The transitions between past and present flow seamlessly, and the main characters are interesting.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Unseen
“A fast-paced story, involving history and ghost stories. Graham is skilled at creating intriguing, mature characters involved in challenging situations.”
—Lesa’s Book Critiques on The Unseen
“I am amazed at Graham’s ability to create a magical story that works so well in the present when part of the facts lie in the past. The Uninvited is a saucy romantic murder mystery with ghosts taking center stage.”
—Joyfully Reviewed
“The paranormal romantic mystery is exhilarating and fast-paced.”
—Genre Go Round on The Unspoken
“If you like mixing a bit of the creepy with a dash of sinister and spine-chilling reading with your romance, be sure to read Heather Graham’s latest.… Graham does a great job of blending just a bit of paranormal with real, human evil.”
—Miami Herald on Unhallowed Ground
“The paranormal elements are integral to the unrelentingly suspenseful plot, the characters are likable, the romance convincing.”
—Booklist on Ghost Walk
“Graham’s rich, balanced thriller sizzles with equal parts suspense, romance and the paranormal—all of it nail-biting.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Vision
“This book captivates its reader. [It’s] one the reader will not want to put down until finished.”
—Paranormal Haven on Let the Dead Sleep
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