The Night Is Forever

6

“The one-eyed Persian is Oscar. The old ginger boy sound asleep in the hayloft in Trickster’s stall is Orange Cat. You’ll see about a dozen of them running around, going into and out of the office,” Drew told Dustin. “Marcus was a sucker for just about anything that had a heartbeat, so you’ll see cats, dogs and a few other pets an owner brought home and then tossed. Horses, needless to say. If you see a cat you like or a pup, just talk to Aaron. We’re continuing with the policy of bring ’em in—and if you find a good home, let ’em go.”

Dustin had just admired one of the massive cats keeping “rat guard” in the stables. Now he knew the feline’s name was Orange Cat. Not imaginative, but certainly fitting.

“It’s a wonderful policy,” he said. Drew didn’t seem to mind that Dustin was there and had been for about forty-five minutes. He’d helped bring some of the horses in from pasture and brushed them down. Mariah had an individual therapy session coming up and Mason was taking out a new group.

He’d been scheduled for a ride with Olivia—but not alone. Apparently, because of the time lost that morning, Joey Walters was going to be with them. Which was fine; he liked Joey.

After breakfast at the café, Dustin had spent a few hours on his computer and done some fact-checking with the office back in Virginia. He’d read bios on everyone here over and over again. Nothing stood out. No history of mental illness, much less homicidal tendencies. Before coming to the Horse Farm, Sandra Cheever had worked for a medical office, arranging schedules and dealing with patients for a group of psychiatrists; she’d left only because Aaron had lured her away. She’d never received even a parking ticket. Mason Garlano had been working at a physical rehab center until he followed his girlfriend to Nashville. They had since broken up, but the girlfriend was alive and well and working as a sound technician for a studio in Nashville. Andrew Dicksen had moved to the Nashville area from Biloxi, Mississippi, with his family when he’d been ten. He’d done the rodeo circuit until his thirtieth birthday when a fall from a bull had damaged his collarbone; he’d known Marcus, and Marcus had offered him the job. Aaron Bentley had been a college student studying toward a business degree and working at a hack ranch when he’d met Marcus, who’d hired him. That had been twenty years ago. Both Sydney Roux and Mariah Naughton were from the area, and had lived there all their lives. Sydney had been arrested once in college for protesting a military action. Not one of them had a history of violence, theft, drug abuse or any other ill-doing that might have raised a pale pink flag, never mind a red one.

And still, Dustin was convinced that Marcus had been murdered and by someone close, someone who knew him well. That meant—as he’d assumed earlier—that there had to have been a motive, a secret agenda, since no fight had broken out. He hadn’t been killed in a fit of anger. His murder had been carefully calculated to look like an accidental death.

Official records were helpful, but they didn’t say much that was personal about anyone. Dustin was grateful for social media; he looked up every form of internet page or link he could for each of his suspects. Apparently, Drew had yet to enter the media age. He had a Facebook page but never posted. Mariah, on the other hand, loved her page—and used it, of course, to promote the ghost tours she did twice a month. Sandra Cheever used hers to communicate with family in New York. Mason kept up with friends in Texas—and made social arrangements with his friends in Nashville. Sydney Roux posted a lot of pictures of the animals at the Horse Farm. He took good pictures and made it clear that the puppies and kittens who wound up there were available for adoption to good homes. Aaron only had a professional page that led back directly to the Horse Farm.

He found himself looking up Olivia’s Facebook page, as well; she, too, liked to post pictures of the adoptable animals at the Horse Farm but she also mentioned social events and proudly posted beautiful pictures that showed off the grace and beauty of Tennessee.

He could spend his life on the computer, but it was nothing compared to actually spending time with people, face-to-face. He’d discovered he liked Drew; he really hoped the man wasn’t hiding some kind of dark secret. One thing the academy had taught him was that you could never be too careful—it was dangerous to trust a friendly face. Some of the nation’s most heinous serial killers had actually been charming when not slicing or strangling their victims.

“Did you ever meet Marcus?” Andrew asked him, hoisting a saddle onto Shiloh.

“No, I never did.”

“But you’re from the area?”

“From the city, originally,” Dustin said.

“Nashville’s the best city in the world, but I love these rolling hills out here,” Drew told him. He shrugged. “I guess even though it’s small in comparison to New York, Atlanta or Chicago, Nashville’s actually pretty big. Folks could wander around for years and never meet one another. Out here, we do.” He grinned. “And regardless of how long I’ve lived in the state, I’ll never be a real homeboy to people who are from here—like Mariah or Sydney. They can trace their families back for generations. But Olivia used to come out here all the time with her parents, and I know she and Mariah never met.” He shrugged. “A lot of life is an accident of timing, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Dustin said. “It’s easy to go through life not knowing everyone—even in a small town, let alone a big city,” he added wryly.

“That’s true enough.” Drew grinned. “Listen, thanks for the help.”

“Not a problem. I love horses,” Dustin said. “And cats—and dogs.”

“Plenty around here,” Andrew said. “In fact, you really would be a good candidate to take home a pup or a kitten.”

“I wish I was. I’m never in one place long enough to be a good owner.”

“Because of your work.”

“I’m a field agent. That means going out in the field.”

“Yeah, well, takes a good man to know when he can’t have an animal, too. That’s the problem, people picking up cute kittens or pups and not realizing the little critters are going to get big. So they dump them. Or the dog messes in the house. Or they get the pet and then have kids and forget they have the pet. But all the animals lucky enough to come here, well, they’ll still be taken care of.”

“No surprises in the will, huh?” Dustin asked.

Drew shook his head, adjusting the saddle on Shiloh. “Not really. Oh, yeah, there was one. Marcus left his home and the property it’s on to Olivia.”

“That was a surprise, then?”

“We thought it would go to Aaron. Aaron loves this place and manages it really well. It would’ve been easy for him to live there, and go back and forth to the Horse Farm.”

“Actually, couldn’t he just live here if he chose? You and Sydney do, right?”

“Yeah, but...we’re not management types. We keep our places pretty nice, but hey...this is a stable, and it smells like a stable. But...”

“I’m sure your living arrangements are fine,” Dustin said. “So where does Aaron live now?”

“Oh, he rents a house down the road. He should’ve bought a house when the buying was good. Guess he figured maybe he didn’t have to,” Drew said with another shrug. “I doubt it’s a problem. The Horse Farm being nonprofit doesn’t mean he doesn’t get a nice salary.”

“What about you guys?” Dustin asked.

Andrew laughed. “I like my life just fine. I have a comfortable place to lay my head at night. I love my work. I enjoy working with kids. I wake up every morning to fresh air and beautiful country. No rush hour. Yeah, I’m pretty happy with my life.”

“Good to hear,” Dustin said.

He saw that Olivia was coming out of the office. He’d gotten a brief text from her, saying that she planned to stay at the office where there’d be several people around until her afternoon sessions.

But now she was headed his way. “Hi, Dustin. And thanks, Andrew.” She patted Shiloh’s neck. “I could have saddled him.”

“I get restless with nothing to do,” Andrew told her. “So, things have changed a bit. Are you going to keep Shiloh here? Or do you plan on building a barn?”

“I’m here most of the time, and you and Sydney are always here,” she said. “I’m happier having him stabled where someone’s on duty 24/7.”

“That makes sense.” Andrew looked at Dustin. “You never know with a horse. I had some friends who lost two of their horses a few years back. No one was home. Somehow a pasture gate was left open. The horses got onto the road and were hit by a semi and they had to be put down. You just never know.”

“Have you seen Joey yet?” Olivia asked.

“On his way right now,” Dustin said.

Joey had been let out of a van that had the words Parsonage House written in script on the side. Two other boys stepped out—Matt and Sean, Dustin saw. They headed into the office, while Joey walked toward them, smiling.

“We get to ride today, right?” he asked Olivia. “Oh, hello, Dustin, Drew.”

“We’re still riding today,” Olivia said. “Joey, I have you on Trickster, and Andrew, I see you’ve gotten Chapparal saddled. He’ll be perfect for Dustin, unless he was saddled for someone else?”

“He’s all yours. In fact, Dustin brought him in. He’s been here helping me.”

“Thanks.” Olivia nodded. “Well, then, shall we?”

Ten minutes later, they were mounted and striking out beyond the pastures. The hills rose and fell until they reached a stretch of relatively flat land. Olivia said, “Okay, Joey, we’ll run them for a minute here, but we’re not racing. Remember that everything we’ve learned about trust and boundaries works when you’re riding, too. Don’t let Trickster take you. You’re taking her.”

Joey nodded, flushing with pleasure. Olivia glanced at him and Dustin nodded; she was going to head out first. He’d bring up the rear.

It wasn’t a wild ride. It was a pleasant canter and then a brief gallop across the flat land. Olivia reined in first, waiting for the other two. Joey slipped sideways when Trickster reverted to a trot, but he gripped the horn of his western saddle for a moment, regaining his balance. He beamed at Olivia.

“We’re doing okay,” he said.

Olivia smiled at him but her smile faded. Dustin saw that she was gazing past Joey—back up to the hill that rose between them and the Horse Farm.

He followed her line of vision. The sun was high; it seemed to cast shadows on the mound.

But Dustin saw someone there.

There, but not really there.

The image of a tall rider sitting proudly on a great steed gradually appeared. He wore a plumed hat and the gray-caped dress-coat of a Confederate general. Dustin thought he lifted a hand, almost as if in warning. Then the sun blazed brightly, coming from behind a white cloud, and the general was gone.

“Hey, Liv, you’re coming on the camping trip tomorrow night, aren’t you?” Joey said, unaware.

“Pardon?” Olivia brought her attention back to the boy.

“The camping trip. You’re coming, right?”

“Uh, yes. I suppose so,” Olivia said.

“And you’re coming, too,” Joey looked at Dustin. “You said you would.”

“Yes, sounds like fun. I used to go on camping trips around here years ago,” Dustin told him.

“Mariah’s going to tell ghost stories,” Joey said.

“She’s good at talking about history, too,” Olivia added a little sharply.

“Yes, but you can only have a ghost if you have the history of someone who lived,” Joey said reasonably.

“Yes, of course, but...history is important, Joey,” Olivia said. “There was a famous philosopher named George Santayana who explained why it’s so important to understand history. His words are often quoted. ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’ We need to learn from all the things that came before. It’s a good thing that we remember the American Civil War—especially when we see politics get heated today. Tennessee was the last state to secede from the Union, and the people were split on their beliefs throughout the war. East Tennessee actually tried to secede from Tennessee when it left the Union, but troops were sent in. The state was truly divided. The east was for the North, the west for the South—and the middle of the state cast the deciding ballot. It was horribly sad and tragic here. Only the state of Virginia saw more battles. The Battle of Shiloh was, at the time, the bloodiest in the nation’s history. But we learned from the war, Joey.”

“In many ways,” Dustin murmured.

Joey turned to face him, “Yeah, I know,” he said dryly. “My dad told me they still study Civil War strategy. Like today, you wouldn’t fight the same—we have automatic weapons and bombs and drones and stuff. But the military today can still learn from the strategies they used back then.”

“We also learned about compromise and holding a country together,” Dustin said, hoping he didn’t sound too much as though he was lecturing. “It’s easy to be harsh now when we look at the past. Sometimes you have to wonder what the hell were they thinking, and you have to try to understand the context and the reasons—and the mistakes. That’s history, and that’s why it’s important.”

“And why we get ghosts!” Joey threw in cheerfully.

“But ghosts are good, too,” Olivia said. “For instance, General Rufus Cunningham is a famous ghost around here, and he tells us a lot about humanity. He was a leader, but he didn’t consider any of his men expendable. And he valued human life even when that life belonged to the enemy.”

“Yeah, and he died. ‘No good deed goes unpunished,’” Joey blurted out, grinning.

Olivia groaned. “Oh, I give up!”

“Kidding, just kidding!” Joey said. “I love the stories about the general. Are we going to ride? Or are we going to just sit here?”

“We’ll take the forest trail to the curve, come back around and let them run again for a few minutes. It’s beautiful riding through the trees,” Olivia said.

She led the way. Trickster tried to stop for grass, but Olivia reminded Joey that the horse shouldn’t be calling the shots; he could give Trickster an apple back at the stables. Joey regained control, grinning at her proudly as he did.

Olivia rode on, and the others followed. She reined in at a copse, and they paused behind her. A doe and her young fawn were nibbling on short grasses near the edge, barely visible beneath the canopy of the trees.

“Wow!” Joey whispered.

“Let’s go around. Maybe they won’t bolt,” Olivia said.

They skirted the high pines, giving the doe and her fawn a wide berth. The doe looked up and stared at them. For a moment, her instinct and fear were visible. But she didn’t move. She studied them, then went back to her nibbling. They guided their horses around her.

Dustin didn’t see exactly what happened next. He heard something—a whizzing sound in the air.

Shiloh let out a snort of terror and reared up. Olivia calmed him quickly, and turned to look at Dustin and Joey.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” Joey said. “What was that?”

“I don’t know. The world’s biggest bee, maybe.” Olivia was in control, but Dustin saw that she was shaken. He heard rustling. It seemed to come from behind them.

He turned Chapparal. The horse could whirl around on a dime—good thing for him at the moment. The trail was narrow here, but led back to the trees. The doe and her fawn were no longer there; they’d obviously been spooked. He kept moving, inspecting the trail on the other side. He didn’t see anything, but when he dismounted, he discovered that the ground had been disturbed and a number of low-hanging branches were broken. He continued to follow the trail, leaving Olivia and Joey behind. He heard Joey call out and paused, wanting to take his investigation all the way to the road—but afraid to leave the two of them alone in the forest where something had, apparently, flown through the air with the speed of a bullet.

Had it been a bullet?

And had Olivia been a target?

Frustrated, he rode back to where Olivia and Joey waited for him.

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug.

“Weird!” Joey said. “A small bird. That’s what it looked like from here. A dive-bombing bird.”

“You saw it?” Dustin asked.

“Well, not exactly. I just heard something.... And I thought I saw something whiz by close to Liv and Shiloh—a really fast bird, like I said—but I don’t know for sure. Maybe—”

“We’ve got to head back,” Olivia broke in. “I have another session this afternoon.”

“Not riding?” Dustin realized his tone was sharper than he’d intended.

“No, just in the pasture. A group session.”

“We get to stay until five,” Joey said. “Double with me against Sean and Matt at Ping-Pong?” he asked Dustin.

“Okay. I’ll hang around,” Dustin said, looking at Olivia. She showed no reaction, and he couldn’t decide whether he was disappointed or relieved.

As they rode back, Dustin kept watch on everything around them, still uneasy about the flying object that had whizzed by them all.

It hadn’t been the world’s biggest bee.

Or a dive-bombing bird.

But neither, he thought, had it been a bullet. So what the hell...?

True to her word, she allowed Joey and the horses their time to run. Then they returned to the stables. As good “guests,” he and Joey took care of their mounts. Joey was happy to give Trickster the promised apple. Dustin enjoyed watching him with the horse as he assured Trickster that it was much better to have an apple at the end of a ride than munch on lousy grass during it.

He was still at the stables when Olivia went out with her next group; he wanted to keep an eye on her. But since she was surrounded by several people, he determined that she was going to be all right.

If something was going to “happen” to her it wouldn’t be here—in front of others.

Joey was waiting impatiently for him to play Ping-Pong. He decided he might as well oblige now.

Matt and Sean were there, too, eager to take them on. Dustin played the game, paying heed to what was going on around him, as well. Sandra Cheever swept by, telling them all, in her usual curt tones, to play fair, and marched into Aaron’s office.

He thought he heard the two of them arguing.

When he and Joey took the game by a single point, he went to get coffee, trying to listen to what was being said in Aaron’s office.

Sandra was speaking heatedly. Aaron was arguing with her in a soft, restrained voice.

“Boy, and they’re supposed to be teaching us to get along!” Matt said sarcastically, coming up beside him.

Dustin grimaced. “Have they been at it all afternoon?”

“No.” Matt frowned. “I don’t think they were here. In fact, I know they weren’t. Aaron showed up about an hour ago and said hello to all of us. That was odd, ’cause usually there’s someone in the office all the time—when it’s open, I mean. Hey, rematch?”

“Sure, just give me a minute,” Dustin told him. “I’ll meet you in the games room.”

Matt nodded and sauntered off, and Dustin moved closer to the door. “It’s wrong. It’s just wrong!” Sandra Cheever was saying.

“Look, it is what it is,” he heard Aaron reply.

“Not necessarily,” Sandra said. “You’re going to have to take steps.”

He didn’t get a chance to hear any more. Mariah Naughton came breezing in. “Hey, there, Secret Agent Man. I’m thrilled you guys are coming on the camping trip. Liv sometimes comes along, and I love it when she does. I guarantee that you’ll have a good time.”

“I hear you tell great ghost stories.”

She waved a hand. “Oh, well, the area’s full of them. I don’t tell anything new. You know all about the general, I take it, since you’re from around here.”

“I’m certainly familiar with him.”

“Nashville has great ghost stories, too!” she said enthusiastically.

He nodded in response and she grinned. “Well, I hope we’re giving you the rest and relaxation you were looking for.”

“Definitely. I’m falling in love with horses all over again.”

“Well, that’s great, but...you have to fall in love with yourself again, too. That’s part of it.”

“I’m on my way to finding out what I need,” he assured her.

The door to the office flew open. Sandra Cheever burst out, looking somewhat flustered. Seeing the two of them, she regained her composure quickly. “You’re finished with your sessions for the day?” she asked Mariah.

“Yes, all done.”

“Well, good.” Sandra turned to Dustin. “As soon as Olivia comes in, we’ll close the office.”

“Where’s Mason?” Mariah asked.

“He had some business in Nashville this afternoon.” Sandra shook her head. “I’m ready to go home! This has been a long day and I’m exhausted.”

She turned abruptly and left them. A minute later, Olivia came in. Before she could speak, Aaron hurried out of his office. “Hey, Liv. I’ve got the keys to Marcus’s house, if you want them. You don’t have to take them today, but I was thinking you might want to get those locks changed. Who knows how many keys Marcus might’ve had made to give to friends—or strangers!—who needed a place to stay.”

“Thanks, Aaron. I will take them. I—I...think I’ll go by and just take a look at the place,” Olivia said.

While she was with Aaron, Dustin sent a text to the office in Virginia, asking for Marcus’s address and directions to his house. He didn’t want to head out with Olivia.

But he’d be damned if he’d let her go to that house alone. The Ping-Pong rematch would have to wait.

Marcus Danby’s small ranch house really had no historic significance. It was little more than an extended log cabin with only one floor.

The front door opened into a small hallway; immediately to the right was the kitchen and beyond that a spacious living-dining area. Marcus had furnished it with quilted throws and handcrafted furniture. There was Native American art on the walls and various sculptures; he’d loved dream catchers and there were a number of them scattered about.

Olivia stepped into the living room, switched on a light and looked around. “Marcus?” she said aloud.

There was no answer.

A fine layer of dust was beginning to form on the furniture and objects. Other than that, it was just as Marcus had left it. Or so it appeared. Olivia glanced at the hall that led to the three small bedrooms. One he’d kept as a guest room, one was an office and one was his own.

She walked into the living room and sat on one of the sofas. A quilt—hand-stitched by the grandmother of one of their guests who’d proven to be a success story—was draped over a sofa. The sofa had also been handcrafted by another former guest who’d started a furniture-making business. Marcus had always helped out, not just with his talks and the Horse Farm, but also by supporting those who were trying to make a new life for themselves.

She looked at the coffee table, carved from the trunk of an old tree. There were a number of colored pages on it—drawings done by some of the boys who’d stayed at Parsonage House.

“So, you’re being a jerk as a ghost, but you were one hell of a good guy, Marcus,” she said. She studied the drawings. She knew the boys were sometimes asked to draw what they saw as the demons of their pasts, and sometimes they were asked to draw what they saw as their futures.

She picked up one that Joey had done. It was actually a good drawing. He’d portrayed a gaping black hole with demon eyes and razor-sharp teeth reaching into a sunlit room where he sat at a desk. Emptiness. Joey feared the emptiness of his life, she thought.

Hearing a sound behind her, Olivia started, jumping to her feet and whirling around in one motion.

It was Dustin. He still wore his casual tweed jacket over a denim shirt and the jeans he’d been wearing earlier.

Somehow, she’d known that he’d come. He would come because Malachi had sent him here and because protecting her was part of his job description.

She was glad he was there. He seemed to fill a room—an area, even in the midst of a forest or pasture—with confidence, with strength, like an invulnerable bastion.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked her, clearly irritated.

So much for being glad to see him.

“I’m looking around Marcus’s house,” she said. “My house,” she added.

“You didn’t even lock the door!” he admonished.

She flushed. She hadn’t thought to lock the door; she wasn’t accustomed to being worried about her every move.

“I knew you were coming,” she told him.

“You didn’t know who else might be coming,” he said, still aggravated. He started walking into the house.

To her amusement, he suddenly tripped. A corner of the rug stretched out on the hardwood floor had curled back.

Straightening, he swore softly.

“He has no right to be rude to you!” Olivia heard.

Turning around, she saw that the ghost of Marcus Danby had decided to join them.

“Rude!” Dustin snapped. “What the hell? I’m trying to keep her from getting killed, and you don’t seem to be helping a whole lot!”

Olivia turned again to look at Dustin, who was staring at Marcus.

“You see him,” she breathed.

“Of course I see him. And hear him. And, Mr. Danby, under the circumstances, it’s about time you stuck around to meet me,” Dustin said. “I need to know everything about you and everything you did on the day you were killed. Your memory might be the only thing that can keep Olivia alive.”

Marcus, startled—and offended—made his ghostly way across the room to stand in front of Dustin. “You—you’re FBI. You have to find the truth of this. I’m not the one putting Olivia in danger.”

“You put her in danger the minute you dragged her into this!” Dustin snapped.

“Hey, someone killed me! It’s not just Olivia’s life that’s at stake. The Horse Farm itself is.”

“So, you’d get her killed, as well?”

“She could hear me. I had to tell someone the truth.”

“Excuse me,” she began.

But neither seemed to hear her.

“You need to be worried about her safety before anything else,” Dustin was saying.

“And you have to find my killer,” Marcus countered. “That’ll keep her out of danger.”

“But you obviously have the information we need.”

“No. You’re the one with all the advantages. You’re the one—”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the one who’s...alive.”