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 dramatic.
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.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE NIGHT IS ALIVE by Heather Graham.
If you loved The Night Is Forever, be sure to catch the other titles in the popular dark and page-turning Krewe of Hunters series by New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham.
The Night Is Alive
The Night Is Watching
The Uninvited
The Unspoken
The Unholy
The Unseen
The Evil Inside
Sacred Evil
Heart of Evil
Phantom Evil
And don’t miss Let the Dead Sleep, in the spellbinding Cafferty and Quinn series, available now wherever ebooks are sold!
Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Subscribe to our newsletter: Harlequin.com/newsletters
Visit Harlequin.com
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
1
“Mr. Gordon, how were you able to find Joshua Madsen when the police were completely baffled as to where Bradford Stiles was keeping the child?”
That was the first question shouted, but there were dozens of reporters in front of the Richmond police station where Malachi Gordon had just finished the interviews and paperwork that completed the Stiles case as far as he was concerned. They were like a flock of ring-billed seagulls with their microphones.
Should’ve had someone sneak me out the back, he thought.
He raised a hand. “Please. It’s been a long day and night for everyone involved.”
At his side, Detective Andrew Collins supported his efforts to escape. “Everyone who worked this case is drained. There’ll be a police spokesperson out shortly. Let Mr. Gordon pass!”
That didn’t stop the barrage of questions or change the fact that Malachi felt as if he was being attacked by a flock of birds as he and Andy Collins made their way to the street and his SUV.
“Sorry,” Andy muttered. “Should have—”
“Yeah, yeah, should’ve gotten me out through the back. Or maybe I could’ve called for a ‘Beam me up, Scotty!’” Malachi said. “Not to worry—my mistake. I guess we’re all worn out.”
They reached the car, which was behind a police fence so the reporters couldn’t follow them that far. As Malachi slid into the driver’s seat, Andy asked, “How the hell did you find that cabin in the woods?”
“Pure luck, I think. We’d all fanned out. I just got to it first. It’s my neck of the woods, so I pretty much knew where it couldn’t be,” Malachi said.
“Well, another few hours and... That boy owes you his life.”
Malachi shook his head. “Everyone worked on this.”
“But his mom came to you—and the case broke once you were on it,” Andy said. “You know, if you admitted you were a psychic, no one would think less of you. I mean, yeah, some of those guys can be jerks, and they like to tease you about your voodoo powers and all that, but—”
“I can’t admit I’m a psychic, Andy, because I’m not,” Malachi told him. “I’m going to go home and get some sleep. You need to do the same.”
“Sure thing. Thanks, Malachi.”
“Yep,” Malachi said. He hesitated. On a case like this, cops could be hard-asses. Big tough guys, they still felt fear. Not fear of a junkie or a drug dealer or even a brutal killer, but fear of what they didn’t know or didn’t understand. After he’d left the force in New Orleans, he’d preferred to work on his own for that very reason. As a P.I., he didn’t mind working with them; he just didn’t want to be one of them. That way when the ribbing got bad, he could always walk out.
Some cops, though, like Andy, were all right. They didn’t understand. Maybe they were even a little afraid. But they were willing to accept any help they could get, and they weren’t afraid to be grateful for it.
“Andy,” he said, “thanks to you and your lieutenant for letting me in on this, and for listening to me. The kid owes you his life.”
“Hell, yeah!” Andy said.
Grinning, Malachi waved to him and revved the car into gear, leaving the parking lot. He headed out of the city then, anxious to get away. He’d never expected the publicity that would come with this case. He’d taken it on because Joshua Madsen’s mother, Cindy, had come to him. She had broken his heart. Joshua had been abducted during the two-block walk from his school bus to his home yesterday afternoon. A neighbor had seen a nondescript white van pull away, and when that news came out, police had immediately suspected Stiles, the Puppy Killer, as he’d been called.
Stiles didn’t kill puppies; he used puppies to lure young people to his van. They’d rescued a litter of golden retriever pups and their mom when they’d found Stiles and Joshua Madsen.
Malachi didn’t consider himself particularly brilliant in finding Stiles. The police investigative work had been excellent. They’d narrowed down the white vans in the city, thanks to the keen eye of the neighbor who’d managed to give them a partial on the license plate. Soil found on one of the victims had placed him in a certain area.
Malachi had known the area.
And he lived not twenty miles away in a home that was over two-and-a-half centuries old and came complete with pocket doors so that it could serve as a tavern, way station, home and hideout when need be. And it also came with Zachary Albright, Revolutionary spy and resident ghost.
No need to try explaining that to Andy, even if they were friends, or any of the other cops. Because, frankly, Zachary didn’t have all the answers; being dead didn’t make him omniscient. Just like he’d been in life, Zachary was a passionate man with a strong sense of right and wrong. He wandered the grounds, and he’d been the one to note the reclusive hunting lodge near the river. He’d suggested it to Malachi, and Malachi had remembered it—yes, the perfect place to bring a victim. Cries couldn’t be heard and the sure-flowing water was always ready to wash away an abundance of evidence.
It occurred to him that he really shouldn’t be thanked; he’d been observing the comings and goings on the trail when he was spotted by Stiles. He’d been forced to kill Stiles or be killed himself. The trail had led to a run-down shack but there’d been no sign of the missing boy. Police had searched the woods. Because of the “hideaway” in his own home—floorboards that lifted to reveal a six-by-six hidden room below—he’d begun to tear apart the shack. And he’d found Joshua Madsen, bound hand and foot, dehydrated, unconscious...but still alive.
Krewe of Hunters, Volume 3: The Night Is WatchingThe Night Is AliveThe Night Is Forever Page 90