“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.”