The Night Is Forever

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 cowboy 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.”

She stared at him, her lips twitching with derision. “You spoke to a dead man?”

“He spoke to me,” Dustin said. He could well imagine Frank Vine and Jimmy Callahan frowning at each other in the observation room. Their lips would be twitching, as well.

Dustin leaned forward. “You had the only extra key, Sandra.”

“I didn’t kill Aaron! I loved him.”

Dustin eased back in his chair. “You know,” he said slowly, “I don’t think you realized he was going to be killed.”

“He wasn’t killed. It was an accident.”

“I just told you—I’ve talked to Aaron. Or, as I said, he talked to me. It wasn’t an accident. He didn’t reach for anything electrical, including his iPod charger, while he was in the bath. Someone was in his house. Someone who probably knew he liked baths.” He shook his head. “I never took you for stupid, Sandra.”

“Stupid! You bastard, I’m hardly stupid!”

“No? Then you did know what was going on. So, which is it? Are you stupid—or guilty?”

“Neither!” she yelled.

“Who had the key? Who did you tell about your affair? What was the real plan—if you didn’t want Aaron dead? And, if you loved him so much, why did you leave his house when you knew your accomplice was in there, lying in wait for him?”

She didn’t answer.

He stood up. “Frank? Frank, come and book her for murder. She’s definitely involved. She didn’t do the killing, but she was in on the conspiracy. She facilitated the killer.” He turned back to Sandra. “But then the whole thing got away from you, didn’t it? Then you started fearing for your own life, right? So you figured you had to keep quiet. Because unless we caught the killer—”

He broke off. He was pretty sure he had it figured out, but he needed to trip Sandra up just once.

He slammed his palms down on the table. “The Horse Farm was supposed to go under, right? But not so it could be sold to a Nashville lawyer. Right?”

Sandra glared at him. Then she jumped to her feet and pointed to the one-way mirror.

“It’s his fault—all his fault! Jimmy Callahan! He was always talking about the countryside and how wonderful it is, but he said the Horse Farm was a nothing place. He’s the one who talked about the land, and how someone who came from such a long line of Tennesseans should be the one to own it! Someone like that could turn it into a special destination, he said. It was him—he started it all!”

Dustin turned and stared at the mirror himself; that wasn’t the direction he’d been going with this at all.

Before he could move, Jimmy Callahan burst into the room.

“What are you talking about?” he shrieked. “Oh, my God!”

Even as Olivia watched Drew, a dark silhouette in the doorframe with sunlight pouring in behind him, he pitched over. She hadn’t heard the whizzing sound that time; she’d been watching Sloan fall before she turned to Drew.

Something told her she needed to get the dart out of Sloan’s back.

She managed to rip out the tiny shaft and drop down by the sofa, ruining anyone’s clear shot at her.

It wasn’t Drew trying to kill her, though, because poor Drew was out on the floor. Sydney?

But Sydney was in the stables.

No, he wasn’t.

“Drew? Hey, Drew! Liv? Sloan? Where the hell is everyone?” Sydney had left the stables; he sounded perplexed, and he was on his way to the office.

“Sydney, no! Go back, get on the phone! Call for help!” Olivia shouted, staying down, hoping she was protected by the sofa—and the drugged bodies of the two agents with her.

Too late.

This time she heard the strange “zzzz” sound.

And she heard Sydney’s body hit the earth, a few feet from the door.

FBI agents are always armed!

Down in front of the sofa, she groped at Sloan’s body until she found the holster at his side. She struggled to find the gun—and get it out without killing herself. She had no idea how to use it.

It was a gun, she told herself; you took the safety off, you pointed and fired.

But even as her fingers curled around it, she heard movement behind her.

“Come on out, Olivia. They’re all down. And I don’t want to hurt you. Not yet. We’re going for a little ride. Don’t you want to buy all the time you can? Come on, now, get up—slowly.”

Olivia’s fingers were curled around Sloan’s gun. She straightened her back, which was toward the killer. Not allowing any other part of her body to move, she slipped the gun into her fingers.

“No more cutesy little dart guns, Olivia. I have a Smith & Wesson trained on you now.”

Olivia stiffened, arching, trying to pretend she was giving up.

She managed to shove the gun under the waistband of her jeans. Then she rose slowly, just as she’d been ordered.

She was terrified. She was going to faint, her knees would give out.... Being afraid could make you smart; that was what Dustin had said.

She hoped the gun didn’t protrude from her belly—or that she wouldn’t shoot off the lower portion of her body.

A shot suddenly exploded over her head, and Olivia froze in shock.

“Just wanted you to know I have a real gun with real bullets.”

She turned to face the killer she should have known.

“Where are we riding to? And which horse am I taking? You nearly killed Shiloh.”

She was answered with a careless shrug. “I had to be sure you’d come here today. So...don’t worry. We have a number of horses to choose from. Let’s go.”

Dustin drove in the sheriff’s department car with Frank Vine and Jimmy Callahan.

Not one of his phone calls to the Horse Farm had been answered. Malachi and Abby were on their way and backup vehicles, including ambulances, were behind them.

“Explain this to me again,” Frank said to Callahan. “Damn you, Jimmy, why the hell didn’t you figure out what was going on?”

“How was I to know I was dating a maniac?” Callahan demanded. “Frank, we talked about family history. I thought it was really interesting that she could trace her history back so far, and I also suggested that maybe she should consider taking a job in Nashville when it was offered. She might have gotten one of those ghost tour shows—she might have gone really far. I had no idea that...that...whatever!”

They reached the Horse Farm; Dustin paid no heed to the arguing officers.

He saw the prone body of Sydney Roux in front of the house and rushed to him, crouching down to check for a pulse. It was faint. On the porch, he found Drew. He, too, was still alive.

As he rushed into the house, he saw that Jane was trying to help Sloan stagger to his feet.

“Dustin, they used the darts.... We were down.... Olivia... I think Olivia pulled the darts out of us,” Sloan said, and swore furiously.

“Whoever...came in from the back—none of the dogs barked,” Jane told him.

“Where is she? Where’s Olivia?”

“I don’t know. But the attack came from inside the house,” Sloan said. “And whoever it was took my gun...”

Dustin rushed out. Sloan and Jane came tearing after him, but as they arrived at the stables, Jane faltered.

Sloan stayed back to steady her. Dustin swung on both of them. “What’s the matter with you? You’re in no shape to be running around! Wait here—ambulances are on their way.” As he spoke, Malachi came driving in with Abby.

Frank left the stables and headed for Dustin, while Malachi and Abby ran to meet them.

“Two of the horses are gone,” Frank said breathlessly.

“Yeah, and we need to get going. Malachi, tell them—they’ve been hurt. They can’t come.”

Malachi pointed at Sloan and Jane. “You two—emergency attention,” Malachi said.

“Come on,” Dustin urged, “we’ve got to follow quickly. I can’t imagine what she’s planning for Olivia, but if she rode away with her, we’ve got a chance.”

Jimmy Callahan hurried to the stables. As Dustin followed, he heard movement in one of the stalls. He pulled his gun and whirled around.

It was Shiloh. The horse was back on its feet.

“Wait!” Malachi shouted.

Dustin turned to stare at him. “Look, we’re not talking about someone in her right mind here. And she’s just about gone over the edge while being in a desperate situation at the same time.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we have to be prepared to play mind games.”

“And do you have a suggestion?” Malachi demanded.

“I do,” Jimmy Callahan said, striding between them. “I do. Mariah is crazy about the history here—crazy about General Rufus Cunningham. She’ll say everyone sees him except her, but that she’s the one who deserves to know him. If you want—”

“Dammit, tell me what you’re talking about!” Dustin snapped.

“It’ll take another five minutes. Come with me. To Drew’s room. He’s involved with a reenactment group. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Dustin had no idea whether it was going to work or not; it might be his only chance. He was trying with all his might to think rationally, like an agent, and not like a man who felt he’d die if something happened to the woman he, yes, loved.

He looked at Malachi and remembered that he and Liv were cousins and that Malachi must be feeling as torn as he was.

“All right. I’ll do it. I’ve done a lot of reading on the general,” he said.

Five minutes later—as Jimmy had promised—he was ready.

Malachi and Abby were on their way out, while ambulances thronged the drive to the Horse Farm. Various deputies were mounted up and moving, and Chapparal had been saddled and bridled for him. He climbed on the horse and started to leave the stables.

“Whoa!” Malachi held up a hand. “Let’s divide the area into sections. We’ve got a lot of property to cover.”

Callahan was on Battle-ax. “The ravine?” he asked Dustin. “The ravine—where Marcus died?”

“Maybe. Frank, why don’t you take the ravine with some deputies. Malachi, you and Abby stay with me, but give me some space. I’m going to follow the trail to the campground.”

He galloped out of the stable on Chapparal and across the pastures.

If you were crazy and thought you had some kind of divine right to a piece of land—as well as the hereditary right to speak to a ghost—where would you go?

A cemetery.

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Olivia said. “You’re a good therapist, Mariah. And I always thought you loved what you did.”

“I’m an okay therapist,” Mariah told her. “You’re the great lover of the downtrodden, confused and drug-addicted. And, oh, yeah, they love you, too. You should see the disappointment on their faces when they find out they’re with Mason or me for the day. Now, what I am is a great historian. I can tell you everything about the occupation of Nashville. I can describe every Civil War battle in this state—oh, and I can tell you anything you want to know about Andrew Jackson.”

“I grew up in Nashville,” Olivia reminded her. She felt the gun inside her shirt and wondered if and when she’d get a chance to use it. During the ride they’d taken so far—running the horses hard most of the way—she’d had no opportunity.

Mariah was a good storyteller. She was also a skilled horsewoman. The entire way—gallop, trot, canter and walk—Mariah had kept the gun on her.

And Mariah knew a lot about marksmanship; she’d proven that.

“Yes, you grew up in Nashville. And your good-looking cousin is with the FBI. And you have a great house from your uncle, so naturally you just have to inherit another house from Marcus. And, of course, an agent comes out here with drop-dead looks and of course he immediately falls for you while... Never mind.”

“What do you mean, never mind?”

“Don’t pull any therapist bull on me, Olivia. You can’t analyze an analyzer.”

“Isn’t it more like you can’t con a con artist?” Olivia asked.

“Whatever. Give it up.”

“Okay. I take it you plan on killing me, although that’s pretty dumb. They’ll know it’s you.”

“They arrested Sandra Cheever.”

“And you think she’ll go down alone?”

“I’ll call her a liar. She had the motive. She was the one sleeping with Aaron.”

“But she’s in custody now, Mariah. She couldn’t have done this. People will arrive at the Horse Farm. They’ll find all the bodies you left strewn around—and they’ll realize I’m missing.”

“No one saw me. There are dozens of other people who might have done this,” Mariah said.

“You’re crazy. Aaron’s dead. Drew and Sydney are half-dead. Sandra is in custody and—”

“Mason is out there somewhere and, God knows, I’d implicate that crazy old broad at the café.”

“Key words, Mariah—crazy old broad at the café. She’s always working, always surrounded by witnesses. When could she have done any of this? But the point is, if you’re going to kill me... What started all this? Marcus was good to everyone. Why did you kill him?”

“I looked it up, Olivia. My great-great-great-grandfather was born on this land. I’m entitled to it. The Horse Farm had to fail.”

“So you could buy it?” Olivia asked incredulously.

“It’s really my land. I have the right to it. I shouldn’t even have to buy it—but I will.”

“It was Marcus’s family land—that’s how he got it,” Olivia said.

“Yeah, well, I went on one of those ancestry sites. And it led me back a bunch of generations. My great-great-whatever was Marcus’s great-whatever’s brother, which means I have just as much right to the land as he did. And then I wouldn’t have to be a so-so therapist. I’d get to be a great hostess for a haunted bed-and-breakfast, and every night I’d give history and ghost tours.”

“You’re crazy.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It should have been so simple. Everyone should just have said, oh, how sad. Marcus Danby became a heroin-whore again and it proves that the whole therapy thing was a pile of bullshit. It would’ve been simple as hell.”

Simple? The murder had been simple?

“But no...you wouldn’t believe it. You dragged in the law, and then when the law here realized that yes, addicts do fall back, you just had to call your cousin. You know, I was onto you—I knew as soon I saw Mr. Handsome Federal Agent walk in that you’d pulled some strings. Yeah, he needed therapy, my ass!”

“Sandra was in on it, though, right?” Olivia said. “I mean, you needed help, didn’t you?”

“Sandra is an idiot!” Mariah snapped. “She wanted Marcus out of the way because she wanted Aaron running the place. She wanted Marcus’s house, and she wanted Aaron in charge, and she wanted a raise. After that, she wanted the two of them to play house forever and ever. But then, when everything seemed to be coming together once Marcus was dead, it looked like the Horse Farm was going to survive! And Aaron was a jerk—”

“But Sandra just let you kill him?”

Mariah sighed. “Sandra might have been a bad choice as a helper—although she should’ve been good. She can be such a bitch, but she’s really a total coward. And dumb! She actually thought what happened at the stream was an accident! I set up the image of the general so I could get all excited and create a diversion before Aaron was found. She didn’t help me. She didn’t even know. I didn’t count on the ripped-up pieces of that cow being all over—they really did make me scream. And it meant I could leave the picture behind, which made everything that much more convincing.”

Olivia stared at her. It was almost impossible to fathom the complexity of a deranged mind. The old cliché about method in madness occurred to her. “What...what about the darts?” she asked. “How did you come up with that?”

“Olivia, I have to tell you—the dart thing is just great. I make those little suckers myself. I add the tiny feathers and then they fly like a damn. They fall out at the slightest movement, which is another plus, and the concoction I put together is pretty impressive. You’d have to be looking for specific poisons to even hope to find them at autopsy. I learned all that from Drew and Sydney, by the way. They know how to mix stuff up because Marcus insisted they had to be prepared for animal emergencies at all times.”

“Good to hear you’re such a wonderful student,” Olivia told her. “So, Sandra didn’t know you were going to kill Aaron—but she gave you the key to his place, anyway?”

Mariah didn’t answer.

“She didn’t give you the key, did she? You took it and had a copy made.”

“I did that months ago,” Mariah said proudly.

“So, Sandra’s really innocent?” Olivia asked.

“No. Sandra innocent? Give me a break. She’s totally conniving. She knew what I was going to do to Marcus. In fact, she told me that if I wanted to make it look like someone else was involved, I should take his horse—or hers. Depending on who I wanted to implicate.” She giggled. “I would’ve taken Shiloh, but you were riding him that day. As far as Sandra’s concerned—well, if this bit her in the butt, she deserved it.”

Olivia reined in and turned around. “Where are we going?”

“Don’t you know yet?”

“No, I don’t.”

Mariah smiled at her. “There’s something I want from you—before you die, of course.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to see the general.”

Olivia gaped at her.

“I know you’ve seen him. I should have that. And you can give it to me.”

“Mariah, I’m trying to stay alive here, but—”

“Then don’t lie.”

“Ghosts were people, Mariah. They remain the real essence of the person they were.”

“Spiritual crap, Olivia. Keep at it.”

“Ghosts don’t just appear on command!” Olivia felt the gun against her waist. There had to be a chance for her to use it. Maybe now...

By the time she drew it out, she’d be dead.

“Keep moving and quit stalling.”

“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.