She paused, moving a step closer. She might work with horses in a stable, but she wore some kind of subtle perfume that made her smell like the whisper of flowers in the breeze.
“I have two individual sessions this afternoon. You’re not one of them. Everyone starts off with a session like you just went through, to see if they feel this will be of benefit to them. That will allow you to fit in here, which is the point. So, now you can investigate. What are you going to do?”
He frowned at her, somewhat irritated that she’d gotten under his skin. All his life he’d walked a straight line. He felt he had sympathy for those left behind after a death, although he wasn’t and never had been a counselor in any way. But he didn’t let emotion invade his work. In his position, he couldn’t. He’d wind up...
In therapy, he thought dryly.
“Well?” she asked. “What will you do this afternoon?”
He angled his head thoughtfully. “I’m going to play Ping-Pong. What time do you get off, Ms. Gordon?”
* * *
When Olivia finished with her last session, she discovered that Dustin Blake was still at the facility. He was playing doubles; he and Joey were partnered against Sean and Matt.
Officially, the Horse Farm was there for equine therapy. But any “guest”—as they officially called their patients or clients—was welcome on the grounds during open hours, which usually ended at six. They’d long ago noticed that their guests were comfortable at the Horse Farm and, because of that, many stayed long hours reading in the back room or playing games.
Olivia wondered if perhaps he’d been waiting for her. But she paused by the reception area, pouring herself a cup of coffee and watching him. She’d managed to call Malachi on her cell during her last ride, and he’d managed to call her back. Yes, if she’d answered her phone, she would have learned that Blake was the agent who’d been sent.
He was a curious choice, she thought. He was hardly nondescript. The man stood at about six foot four. He had the kind of lean, hard muscle that might be seen on a basketball player. His every movement hinted at agility. His face was chiseled, his jaw square, and he had flashing dark eyes that seemed to view the world around him with a certain amount of skepticism. No one could miss him. Hardly the type to slip in and out of anywhere unnoticed.
But then, he’d come here as what he was—or mostly as what he was. Aaron was practically giddy that the bureau had chosen their facility as a place for the man to unwind, chill out or vanquish his demons. Nowhere in the paperwork had it been suggested that he was addicted to alcohol or other substances, but you didn’t have to be an addict or suffering from a physical or congenital disadvantage to benefit from the Horse Farm. Marcus Danby had believed that the best therapy brought various kinds of people together. For instance, a stressed-out business exec could learn that patience and tolerance for an autistic or otherwise handicapped child was something that should come naturally. Equally, a young man like Brent could show true acceptance and affection to a drug addict or alcoholic who discovered that friends—real friends, or the ones who’d enabled their addictions—were afraid to be there for them anymore.
But while they’d had handsome high school and college football heroes, a number of pro athletes, musicians and some of the people who pulled major strings on Wall Street, they’d never had anyone quite like Dustin Blake.
He was the topic du jour.
Drew Dicksen stepped in from outside. He walked directly over to her and the table with the ever-present coffee service.
“Hey, how are you doing, kid?” he asked her.
He seemed to look at her with concern all the time now.
“I’m doing all right. How about you?”
“Fine. Fine, thanks. So, you met the new guy.”
“Yeah.”
“How did it go?”
“Okay.”
Drew leaned against the wall, pensively watching the back room. “I wonder why he’s really here.”
“Pardon?” she said, startled. Did people know?
He smiled and lowered his voice. “I mean, what did he do? The kids talk about it constantly. They think maybe he cornered a serial killer—and shot him down rather than arresting him. Or he freaked in the middle of a tense situation. They keep making up scenarios—and they’re making me wonder, too.” He laughed. “In fact, it’s hard not to join in with their fantasies.”
“I doubt that he freaked out, or that he’s violent. If he was, I don’t think he’d be here,” Olivia said pragmatically.
“He’s sure got a rapport with kids,” Drew said.
“The kids adore you, too. More than that, they respect you.”
“Most of the ones we get are good kids,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’m not jealous. My real job is basically pooper-scooper. And he’s an FBI guy—where’s the comparison?”
“Andrew! You and Sydney save animals, animals found in the worst possible conditions sometimes. You care for them, and you keep everything in this place running.”
“Don’t say that in front of Aaron!” he said with a laugh. “Me, I don’t want to be an FBI man. I’m not at all fond of the concept of people shooting at me. Can’t help but be curious, though. So how did he do today?”
“Fine. He worked well with others and seems to know horses.”
“He
is
from Tennessee.”
“Drew, not everyone from Tennessee rides horses,” she reminded him.
“No kidding?”
Olivia rolled her eyes.
They heard a loud shrill of delight. “We won!” Joey cried happily.
“Rematch tomorrow!” Sean shouted back at him.
Sandra Cheever suddenly appeared, marching over to the boys. “Tomorrow being the key word. Out, young ’uns. We have to lock up.”
“Aw...”
The kids began filing out for the night. They all said their goodbyes to Olivia and Drew. Joey paused by the door. There was a sign-up sheet for the history/ghost tour and camping trip Mariah was planning to lead on Friday night.
Joey paused, turning around. Olivia thought he was talking to her at first when he asked, “Are you going?”
Then she realized that Dustin Blake was standing right behind her.
“What is it exactly?”
“Mariah Naughton. Remember, she was talking about it at the diner last night? We take the horses and ride out to sites that aren’t part of the National Battlefield Parks. I mean, they can’t own
everything,
and there was Civil War action all around here. She talks about Tennessee battles, the ghosts that remain, and then we go set up camp by the stream. It’s really cool.”
“Seriously, nothing here is really cool, man,” Sean said, sticking his head back in and placing his hands on Joey’s shoulders. “But it’s the coolest thing we get while we’re in purgatory.”
“You’re right. I do remember. Sounds great,” Dustin said.
Olivia glanced at him, trying not to frown.
Ping-Pong and camping?
That was how an agent worked?
Joey scribbled on the sheet and turned back to Dustin. “I put your name down, okay?”
“Thanks.”
Aaron had come out of his office. Sandra—herding the boys out the door—was now behind Dustin.
“Guess I need to get out of here, too,” Dustin said. “Thank you. I’ve heard about this place for years. It’s fantastic. Good day for me.”
“Glad to have you, Agent—Dustin,” Aaron said.
As he walked out, Aaron turned to them. “Drew, can you get Sydney? And, Sandra, can you find Mariah and Mason? We need a little meeting.”
Five minutes later, they were all seated on the couches and chairs in the entry room. Once everyone had settled in, Aaron said, “We have to decide how to handle this situation. First, just to let you know, Sandra and I have rescheduled all our sessions for tomorrow—the lawyer’s coming in the morning.” He cleared his throat. “I guess you’re all aware that Marcus was the end of his line. I believe, since he and I discussed it many times, that the facility was left to me, but no one can be certain of anything until his attorney reads his final will and testament. I know, as well, that he left something from his life for every one of you. There are also clauses that protect the property and the livestock in the event of
my
death. So...that’s one thing. The other is...we have to decide on spin.”
“Spin?” Mariah asked.
Aaron exhaled. “Well, the information about the autopsy is out. Naturally, in today’s age of instant information and social media, it was inevitable, and some people are going to make a big deal of it. We all know the autopsy revealed he was on drugs. The blood tests made that clear. I saw Marcus that morning—he was fine. In fact, he was in a great mood. What happened to make him relapse after all those years...I don’t know. The thing is, it puts us in a bad light. What good does any of this therapy do if the man who founded the Horse Farm died while on drugs?”
“He didn’t take drugs willingly,” Olivia said firmly.
They were all silent, looking at her. She knew that pitying stare. They all believed she just couldn’t accept it.
To her surprise, Sydney Roux, Drew’s partner in looking after the stables, spoke up, too. He stood to do so; Sydney was an old Tennessean. His grandparents and their grandparents had grown up in the nearby hills. He was a gentleman to the nth degree. He fingered the baseball cap he’d removed when he entered the office as he said, “I can’t believe it, either. I remember I was in my room above the stables one evening when he came by. I’d been drinking a beer and I tried to hide it. He told me, ‘Sydney, I’m an addict. You’re not. Don’t go thinking you can’t have that brew because I stopped by. I’m long past my trigger days.’ And I believe that—just like Olivia believes it. Something happened. Someone tricked him.”
“If only,” Sandra murmured.
“How could we ever find out? How could we prove such a thing?” Mariah asked. “We had cops out here. They searched with us that day.”
“They didn’t find anything!” Olivia said, sitting up straight.
Aaron looked at her. “Right.”
“Don’t you see? They didn’t find
anything.
They didn’t find heroin, crack or anything else on him—
and they didn’t find a needle in his possession.
Where were the drugs or the paraphernalia he would have needed?”
Sandra came and sat on the edge of the sofa by her. “Oh, Liv, the acreage here seems to go on forever and we’re surrounded by forests. He could’ve left stuff anywhere on the property and we might never find it. A hundred years from now, when they’re digging the place up to build condos, they might come across a broken needle or something and wonder
what the hell?
”
“Someone else could have put it in him,” Olivia said stubbornly.
Sandra looked helplessly at Aaron.
“I don’t know what happened and I probably never will. And it doesn’t matter. Marcus was one of the greatest men I’ve ever known,” Aaron said. “The point is how do we handle this?”
“With honesty,” Mariah said. “What other way is there?”
“We downplay it,” Mason insisted. “We tell the truth. We’re honest. But we say that it never happened before—and that
is
the truth. We say that Marcus had thirty years of clean living, and many people—and animals—benefited because of him. And that we’re continuing on in that fine tradition of faith and belief.”
“Mason,” Mariah said. “That was wonderful! If you get tired of being a therapist, you can go into public relations.”
Olivia nodded. “It really was a good statement.”
“And it’s the truth,” Aaron agreed. “All right, then. We just lie low. When asked, we say that we don’t know what was going on in his mind at the end but that we loved him and he did a world of good. We’ll say that we’ll never forget him or what he gave to others. However, don’t bring up the subject unless you’re asked. So, everyone, have a good night.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Olivia said, rising. “I think what we’ve talked about here is important. We also need to find out what happened.” She looked around at all of them. “Do you honestly think Marcus just had a stash out in the woods? That he had it there for a long time—just in case the day came when he suddenly broke after
decades
of clean living? We need to pursue the truth.”
“How?” Mariah asked. “We’d need an army to comb the property and the woods. There are just seven of us. The police have other things to do, and we’re not asking clients—some of them
addicts
—to look for drug paraphernalia!”
“There’s his house,” Olivia said, turning to Aaron. “If his house was searched, we’d at least know he wasn’t using there—or considering it.”
Aaron left out a soft sigh. “I believe that, as of tomorrow, the house will be mine. You can search to your heart’s content, Liv. And if any of us thinks of a forest hidey-hole, we can search that, too. Liv, I don’t know what else to do!”
“I’ve been in his house,” Sydney said. He worked the cap furiously in his hands. “I went to get his suit for the funeral home. I didn’t search the place, but it’s not big, and I sure as hell didn’t see anything that would indicate Marcus had lost it. Of course, that was before they released the autopsy report.”
“Maybe tomorrow night you and I can go back,” Olivia suggested.
“Yeah,” Sandra said. “Oh, Olivia, honey, I know how much you loved Marcus. But what can we possibly prove?”
“That he didn’t fall back on drugs, Sandra! It could mean everything for the Horse Farm.”
“You search his house tomorrow night if you want,” Aaron said. “Olivia, you can do anything that’ll make you feel better, and when you need our help, just say so.”
She had the feeling that what he really meant was emotional help; still, it seemed that Aaron was on her side, and that mattered.
“Thanks,” she told him.
“So the attorney is coming here at ten,” Aaron said. “See you in the morning.”
They all moved. Some of them would get into conversations about Marcus—or about Dustin, Olivia knew.
She didn’t want to get into a conversation.
She drove home. Sammy greeted her and she stroked the dog’s back and spoke to him for a minute before she looked around downstairs.
“Marcus?” she called.
There was no answer. She went up to her room and changed into comfortable sweats, then came back downstairs.