The Night Is Forever koh-11

by Heather Graham

  “You know as much as we know. We haven’t had phone service most of the way. I spoke with Sandra briefly and she was breathing fire. I was hoping you could tell us something,” Olivia said.

  Before he could answer her, Drew, Mason and Mariah trailed in, all looking weary and dejected. They perched on various seats about the room. Mariah started to say something but Deputy Callahan walked in behind her.

  “Hey, Sydney, do you have coffee going by any chance?” he asked.

  “I always have coffee going,” Sydney retorted. “Or someone does, anyway.” The stress he was feeling was apparent.

  He poured the deputy a mug of coffee and handed it to him.

  “So, at this moment,” Sydney said, “no one knows anything. We could all go and sit at the hospital, but hell, Sandra’s already doing that. I’ve been calling the hospital’s patient-information line every thirty minutes,” he went on. “They don’t say anything except ‘the patient is in stable condition.’”

  “Stable is good,” Mariah said.

  “Yeah,” Mason agreed. “Much better than...”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. They all knew what he hadn’t said.

  Dead. Stable was much better than dead.

  “I’ve talked to Sandra a few times, too, and like you said, Liv, she’s breathing fire.”

  “Well, of course. They’ve been seeing each other for ages—discreetly, or so they believed,” Mariah said.

  “I didn’t know,” Olivia murmured.

  “That’s because you aren’t one for gossip.”

  “Nor, apparently, do I pay much attention to what’s going on around me,” Olivia said dryly.

  “They did tell her this much,” Sydney offered. “They’re putting Aaron through a bunch of tests—brain scans—hoping he didn’t do any permanent damage to himself. I guess right now... Well, he’s breathing. They’re doing all the things...that hospitals do.” He looked at Olivia. “We can’t lose Aaron.”

  “No, we can’t,” she said. “We have to go on faith and hope.”

  Sydney took a cup of coffee himself and sat on one of the sofas across from her. “You already know that the staff at Parsonage House don’t think the boys should come back here, at least for now. They’re afraid the parents will pull all the kids out of their program.”

  Olivia was quiet for a moment. “You know,” she began, “Marcus started this place with little more than one broken-down horse and an abused dog. He built it up, creating the wonderful facility that exists today. We’ll hang in and wait this out.”

  “I believe in what we’re doing. I kid all the time about wanting to be a movie star, but...I love what we do,” Mason said. “The thing is...we’ve all still got to live.”

  “Eating is a good pastime,” Mariah murmured.

  “I’ve got savings,” Drew said. “I’m fine, and I’ll stick it out.”

  “Horses have to eat, too,” Sydney reminded him.

  Mariah stood up. “I’m going home, okay?”

  “That’s not a good idea right now.”

  “But I’m exhausted!”

  “If you go home, you’ll be doing so at your own risk,” the deputy said.

  Everyone in the room seemed to freeze.

  At last Mariah repeated his words weakly. “At my own risk?”

  “We don’t believe these were accidents anymore,” Callahan told her.

  She sank back into her chair. “You think that someone...that something...that Aaron was...pushed into the water?”

  “We don’t know for sure. Not yet. We’re hoping to learn the truth,” Callahan said. “We’re hoping Aaron will wake up.”

  “And what if he doesn’t?” Sydney asked sadly.

  Drew managed a faint smile. “He has to wake up. I can’t spend the rest of my life just looking at you guys! Not that I don’t love you, but there are days Sydney and I can’t wait for you to leave so we can head up to our apartments!”

  The others tried to smile, too. It was then that Callahan’s phone rang. He answered it and spoke briefly.

  “Aaron Bentley is conscious,” he announced.

  11

  “I don’t care what Sandra Cheever does, she’s not getting in to see Aaron,” Dustin told Frank Vine. “And I’m thankful as can be that Aaron Bentley is alive. But he has to speak with us before he sees anyone else. It doesn’t matter if they’re a couple. For one thing, Sandra was out here in the woods. For another, I don’t believe that Aaron going face-first into the stream was an accident.”

  “And you’re still convinced he was struck with a dart?” Frank shook head grudgingly. “I’ve decided to go with you on all this, but you do know it still sounds crazy.”

  They were halfway back to the Horse Farm, Frank’s discovery rolled up and draped over his saddle.

  It was General Rufus Cunningham. Or rather, Frank had come upon a rendering of the general on cotton gauze. He’d stumbled across it in the trees, stretched between two branches. While the artwork was darned good, the cloth was the type often used by community theater groups—or colleges. Places without Broadway budgets for their backdrops. This particular piece seemed like the kind of thing frat guys might use to scare their dates.

  But it was equally possible that someone in their group had put it up and done some vocal tricks to lure Mariah into the forest—just when Aaron was supposed to be dying.

  With Frank Vine now grudgingly accepting the fact that things might not be what they seemed, Dustin had faith that the image would be investigated.

  “Let’s not mention the cheesecloth image of the general yet,” Dustin suggested. “I think we should investigate and find out where it was produced and by whom.”

  Frank Vine glanced over at him. “Agent Blake, you must have a lot more resources at your fingertips than we have out here. I cover a pretty wide space and I do it with an eight-man team. Well, sorry, that includes two women. I’m not trying to be a sexist.”

  Dustin grinned. “I didn’t take you for one, Vine.”

  “Or a yokel.”

  “Neither did I take you for a yokel, sir. I’m grateful that you’re giving me a chance—and that you’re willing to look at this thing from all sides.”

  “Could still simply be accidents. Strange and sad accidents,” Vine reminded him.

  “Could be,” he agreed. But they weren’t. He couldn’t explain to Frank Vine that a ghost had told them about his own murder.

  They were almost back at the Horse Farm. Frank, who’d arrived via the rescue helicopter, had ridden back on Shebaan, Sandra’s mount. The tents were folded up and the gear was being carried back on Gargantua, who was trailing behind them. Luckily the massive horse didn’t seem to be overburdened.

  As they closed in on the property, Frank’s phone rang. At the same moment, Dustin felt his own pocket vibrate. He answered; Olivia was on the other end, speaking softly. “He’s conscious! We got a call that Aaron is conscious.”

  “I guess that’s the same information Frank’s getting right now,” Dustin said.

  “Sandra’s having a fit. They’re giving her some information but not allowing her to see him.”

  “She can’t see him. Not until I—” he glanced over at Vine “—not until we’ve had a chance to interview him.”

  “Where are you?” she asked, sounding a little desperate.

  “Almost at the Horse Farm.”

  “Thank God. The natives are getting restless,” she murmured.

  “If you can get Drew and Sydney to meet us, that would be helpful,” he told her.

  “Will do,” Olivia said, and hung up.

  He glanced over at the deputy sheriff again.

  “You don’t want anyone in to see him?” Vine asked him. “They say Sandra’s hollering up a storm.”

  “Like I said, she was there when it all happened.”

  “And you think she somehow got a dart into Aaron Bentley and ran back to the camp?” Despite his open mind on the matter, Frank sounded somewhat skeptical.r />
  “Someone did,” Dustin said.

  “We don’t really know that. Remember, you’re talking to me about an investigation. We’re going to need to deal with facts—not supposition.”

  “Okay. My educated theory—because of what I found in the woods when I was riding with Olivia—is that someone is knocking people out with a dart gun. Once they’re unconscious, this person kills them and makes the deaths look like accidents. Like they’re caused by an overdose or a lack of coordination. Look, I know this still seems far-fetched to you, but I swear there’s more to it, and if we don’t find out the truth, there’ll be another body. A dead one.”

  “I’ll play along—best as I can,” Frank told him.

  “I can bring in help.”

  Vine was silent.

  “You don’t want me to invite in the FBI?” Dustin asked after a minute. “It doesn’t have to be that official. If you prefer, I can just get a few people to drive over to Tennessee and do some legwork.”

  Vine shook his head. “Damn, I wish I could say I can manage this without help.”

  Dustin smiled. “Frank, we couldn’t come in and manage anything—if you weren’t giving us help.”

  “I see a couple of guys coming out to give us a hand with all this gear. I’m assuming you want to get right to the hospital?”

  “I do. And I want Olivia Gordon with us.”

  Frank groaned. “Something else going on?”

  “I think someone tried to break into her house the other night.”

  “You should’ve called. We could have done something.”

  Dustin didn’t respond, and Frank sighed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. We would’ve walked around and seen nothing and probably thought she heard raccoons crawling around on her porch. But you don’t think it was that.”

  “No.”

  Frank sighed again. “Things are weird around here, no matter how you look at it. I’m damned glad I’ve already taken my dog from that place! So, here’s the deal. You bring in whoever you want—but you keep me apprised. You make me aware of everything.”

  “Agreed.”

  They didn’t speak anymore; they’d reached the ranch and both Drew and Sydney were outside, waiting to take the horses as they dismounted. Sammy was out in the yard and he greeted Dustin as if he were his master, as if they’d been together ever since the big mutt had been a puppy. He could only give the dog his distracted attention because Drew was anxious to speak.

  “He—he’s conscious,” he told Dustin. “That’s got to be good, right?”

  “Sounds good to me, Drew. Sounds good to me,” Dustin assured him. He looked toward the office. Olivia was standing by the steps. Deputy Callahan came out behind her, presumably to see what his next orders were.

  “Hang in here for a bit, Jimmy. Help these fellows keep an eye on things,” Frank told him. “I’m going to the hospital with Agent Blake. Liv, you come on with us. You’re in charge now, so if Aaron’s up to speaking, he just might want to talk to you.”

  Dustin lowered his head, trying not to smile.

  It was good to be in with the local law. That could make things so much easier. Frank knew he was worried about Olivia; he was helping him keep her close by.

  “Sure. Okay. Thank you,” Olivia said. She walked out to meet them. Sammy ran up to her, and she dropped down, petting the dog. “Sammy, I’m so sorry. You’ve got to stay here awhile longer. Okay? I’ll be back for you, I promise.”

  Frank was already headed to his official car; he’d had a couple of his deputies drop it off. The dog was whining, as if afraid to see Olivia go.

  “I’ve got him.” Sydney grasped Sammy’s collar. “What’s gotten into you?” he demanded. “Olivia will be back!”

  Sammy continued to whine as she joined Dustin, and the two of them followed Frank to his police car. Within minutes, they were halfway to the hospital.

  Vine had decided to use his siren.

  * * *

  Aaron looked good. In fact, his appearance didn’t even resemble the way he’d looked the last time Olivia had seen him—wet, a strange shade of pale ashen blue, his bones seeming to protrude everywhere.

  He was in a semiupright position on his hospital bed. An IV was providing him with some kind of nourishment or medication, but his color was back and his eyes were bright.

  “Aaron!” she whispered, entering. She ran to his bed and realized she was trembling. She’d almost lost another friend; she was suddenly weak at the knees, so grateful that she hadn’t.

  “Liv!”

  She carefully hugged him. He hugged her back with a surprising and gratifying strength.

  She stood at the side of his bed, gazing down at him. Dustin and Frank were behind her, while Sandra remained in the waiting room, fit to be tied. Dustin had told her they just needed a few minutes, and then she’d be able to see Aaron.

  When Frank tried to explain that Olivia had to be first because of her position at the Horse Farm, Sandra had looked at her resentfully. Olivia had been shocked by the venom in that stare.

  But, in all honesty, she understood—in a way. Sandra was sleeping with Aaron. Something she’d apparently been the last to realize.

  “Thank God you’re here!” Aaron said, looking at Olivia and then Dustin and Frank. His voice seemed to tremble. “I understand I’m alive because of you, Dustin. Thank you.”

  “I did what anyone would have,” Dustin said. “You’re welcome. We’re glad to see you.”

  “Why won’t they let Sandra in?” Aaron asked.

  “We needed to speak with you first,” Frank said. “Aaron, what happened to you? You’re not the kind of man who’d walk to the stream and just fall in.”

  “Yeah, I know. It was odd as hell, and dumb as hell!” Aaron told them. “I’d walked on over to the stream—didn’t think anyone else was up yet—and I was getting ready to kneel down and wash my face. Then...”

  He closed his eyes for a minute, puzzled. “Then I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Frank repeated, clearly annoyed.

  “I was there, and then I was in the water,” Aaron said.

  “Okay, think, Aaron. Did you see anyone, hear anyone? Was there anything out of the ordinary?” Dustin asked, trying to encourage him.

  Aaron was thoughtful. “No... Must have hit my head on a rock or something. I mean, the water isn’t even deep. What, I was in about two feet of it?”

  “Something like that,” Dustin confirmed.

  “Aaron, this just beats all,” Frank said. “There must have been something.”

  “Nothing. It was just a regular morning,” Aaron said. “Got up, looked over at the horses, felt the chill of the morning. I walked the fifty or so yards to the water...heard some birds chirp...the buzz of some insects and then...I woke up here. In some kind of brain machine! I’m fine now, honest to God, I’m fine now. If they’ll just let me out.”

  “They’ll keep you overnight for observation,” Frank told him.

  “Let’s back up,” Dustin said. “Frank—you heard insects? Like a buzzing in your ear?”

  “Flies and mosquitos do seem to buzz in your ear, don’t they?” Aaron asked, shaking his head and smiling.

  “Which ear?” Dustin persisted.

  “What?”

  “Which ear?” Dustin repeated. “Never mind. May I look at your neck, at the side of your head?”

  “Okay.” Aaron shrugged. “They’ve pushed and prodded everything else.”

  Dustin walked over to Aaron and moved his head forward, studying it with intensity. He frowned suddenly, feeling something in his hair.

  “Smarts there a little,” Aaron said.

  Dustin pulled out his penlight and inspected Aaron’s scalp. He nodded at Frank, who walked over.

  “Looks like an insect bite,” Frank said.

  “Except it isn’t.” Dustin stepped back. “Aaron, I believe someone shot you with a dart gun. There was enough of a drug cocktail on the arrow
tip to knock you out. It wouldn’t have killed you. But since you were standing by the water, you fell in and nearly died.”

  “What?” Aaron demanded incredulously.

  “I believe Marcus Danby was murdered, struck with a like dart laced with a similar cocktail of drugs. When he was unconscious, he was injected with the heroin and ‘helped’ to fall into the ravine.”

  “Uh—” Aaron said, staring from one to the other. “Why?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that yet,” Dustin said.

  Aaron turned to Frank Vine. “That’s crazy,” he said. “Why kill Marcus? Why kill me? All he had, really, was the Horse Farm and it’s tied up in trusts and it’s nonprofit, so...”

  He broke off. His eyes fell on Olivia—not with accusation but with confusion. “Why?” he asked again.

  “I don’t know,” Dustin said. “We were hoping you might’ve seen someone, heard someone... Been able to help.”

  “I—I’m sorry. The thing on my head must be a bite. Not a prick from a dart gun. Dart gun! Come on! Who the hell runs around the hills of Tennessee with a dart gun?”

  “That’s what we have to find out,” Dustin said.

  “And you’re sure?” Aaron asked in a trembling voice.

  Olivia glanced at Dustin, then turned back to Aaron. “I can’t believe Marcus suddenly went mad in the woods and started shooting up. You knew him. Did you believe that when you heard it?”

  Aaron swallowed. “No,” he admitted. “But...dart guns?”

  “Whatever the exact composition of the poison, it causes an instant knockout,” Dustin said. “But it doesn’t remain in the system. Or it’s difficult to identify—and requires special tests at autopsy. The kind that aren’t usually done unless poisoning is suspected. I think that same person tried to attack Olivia in the woods, and then went after you at the stream.”

  Aaron looked at Frank Vine. “This is crazy—crazy,” he said.

  Frank shrugged. “You wanna live, Aaron? Crazy or not, you might want to listen to him.”