The Night is Forever

“Yes. This was the second time. But as soon as I walked to the door to let you in, he disappeared.”

“Does he know what happened to him?”

“He told me that Sammy ran ahead of him in the woods, barking. He went to find the dog—and after that, he doesn’t know. So, whoever did this was waiting for him.”

“Or happened to be there.”

“You don’t have heroin available to inject into someone if you’re not expecting to see that person,” Olivia said.

“Unless you were in the woods doing heroin and didn’t want to be found by Marcus Danby.”

“Why hurt the dog?” Olivia asked.

“Maybe Sammy attacked the person.”

“Sammy doesn’t attack.”

He smiled. “Glad to hear it. Or maybe not so glad. Olivia, if someone did intend to kill Marcus—”

“They more than intended it. They accomplished it,” she said. “I’m not making any of this up!”

“I never suggested you were. What I’m saying is that you might have put yourself in danger.”

That seemed to puzzle her. “Me? I have no power over anything.”

“Most murderers don’t want to get caught. Whoever killed Marcus has an agenda, which probably doesn’t include prison. That means his killer doesn’t want an investigation. This person wants Marcus’s death accepted as an accident. Your house is out here—with pasture and forest around it. Do you have an alarm system?”

“I have locks on all the doors and windows,” she told him.

“That’s not an alarm system.”

“You think someone would really break into my house to kill me?” she asked incredulously. “That would hardly be an accident.”

“All kinds of accidents can happen in a home,” he replied. “A fall down the stairs...a hair dryer being dropped in a tub or the sink. A slip on the floor. Trust me, ‘accidents’ can happen. Do you have a gun?”

“Yeah. I have a Revolutionary-era Brown Bess in a display box upstairs. And an 1853 Enfield rifle that my uncle found on this property. I’m afraid I have no ammunition for either of them—nor have I ever fired a gun.”

“You should be able to protect yourself. I’ll see that you have mace or pepper spray, at least,” he said.

“I have Sammy.”

“You just said Sammy’s not an attack dog.”

“But he’ll bark his head off,” she said. “He’ll give me plenty of warning.”

Dustin wasn’t sure that a dog barking was going to be enough. There was property around all the houses here. Lots of woods, lots of distance. No matter how good emergency services might be, it took time to get to the scene of a crime.

It only took seconds to kill.

But for the time being, he let it go and stood up. She stood, as well. “I guess I should go back, just in case anyone’s watching the activity around here. I’ll be back tomorrow night to make sure you’re armed to defend yourself. I’m going to text you my phone number. Get it into your home phone on speed dial and your cell phone’s list of contacts.”

She nodded. He was glad she wasn’t fighting him.

“Is Malachi going to be able to come at all?” she asked.

“I think that’s still up in the air,” he told her. So much for her faith in him.

He didn’t move for a moment, just looking at her. The woman was breathtaking and still, somehow, while she must have considerable strength of will given her work with people and animals, she had a touch of naiveté, too. She was slim and athletic, but well built. Her eyes were that haunting crystalline blue, touched with green. They compelled him to want to watch her; they also seemed to have a touch of vulnerability. Someone had died and, in her mind, he’d been definitely and irrefutably murdered. And Dustin didn’t doubt that she’d spoken with a ghost. She saw things others couldn’t.

Yet she didn’t see her own danger.

He suddenly felt as if they weren’t alone. It was a sensation he knew fairly well; he was being watched. Marcus Danby, he thought.

Marcus was nearby but wasn’t planning to show himself at the moment.

Olivia didn’t seem to be aware; she wasn’t accustomed to waiting for that feeling that was like catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of one’s eye.

“You can go out the back,” she was saying. “If you cut through the forest it’s dark, but there’s a decent moon out tonight.”

“That’s fine. That’s the way I came. My nocturnal vision’s pretty good, and then there’s this modern thing called a flashlight. I always have one with me,” he told her, offering a smile.

She didn’t smile in return. Instead, she looked at him gravely. “Be careful.”

“I’m not the person anyone’s going to be after,” he said.

“Oh? Really? They all know you’re an agent. What if the killer’s afraid you’ll be snooping around and then he wants you out of the picture?”

Maybe she wasn’t so naive.

“But I’m also a big guy who works out, has had training—and carries a big gun,” he said. “That does make me safer.”

“Hmm. All right, I’ll go along with that,” she conceded.

“By tomorrow night I’ll see that you at least have some mace. Friday night, we’ll both do the camping trip.”

“Camping and Ping-Pong,” she said.

“Exactly. Ping-Pong is a great way to get to know the people who hang out at the Horse Farm. And camping will give me a glimpse of a lot more. If we’re going to find out who did this to Marcus Danby, we need to find out why.”

“Okay,” she said. “That makes sense. Come on, I’ll walk you out back.”

Olivia led him through the kitchen, the dining room, something that now seemed to be a family room and, finally, out the back door. She was polite and agreeable.

“Make sure everything’s locked down tight,” he told her. “If someone’s determined to get in, they’ll figure out a way. But it’s best to make it as hard for them as possible. That gives you more time to call the cops or come up with an escape route yourself.”

“I will lock everything,” she promised.

He had the feeling that the minute he was gone, she’d be on the phone calling Malachi and asking him if the agent he’d sent was really capable of getting anything done.