Olivia could feel Dustin’s eyes on her.
She groaned. “Delilah, he’s making a great living in Austin and I’m happy for him. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”
“Some people are fine, you know,” Dustin said. There was amusement in his voice. But he seemed to sense her discomfort and changed the subject.
“I’d love to have a ‘Liv,’ too,” he said. “And some of your pancakes, please.”
Olivia decided on an omelet.
Whistling, Delilah conveyed their orders to Steve and set to work on Dustin’s coffee. After glancing at Olivia and obviously trying not to grin, Dustin chatted casually, asking her how they went about choosing the right horses to work with people.
“Well, obviously, when Marcus brought in a rescue animal with bad kicking habits, or one that nipped, we kept working the horse ourselves.”
“And could you retrain all of them so they could work with others?” he asked.
“Most of the time, rescues have been neglected but they can work well with people and enjoy human interaction. Every once in a while, though, we’ve gotten a horse that was so abused it could never be assigned to anyone who wasn’t experienced with horses.”
“And then?”
Olivia shrugged. “And then one of the staff would just keep working with the horse or sometimes use it for group trail rides. Occasionally, if a horse had been so abused that Marcus could never feel comfortable allowing anyone to ride it, the horse was just retired and allowed to stay in the paddocks for the duration of its natural life.” She looked straight ahead for a moment. “Marcus made the Horse Farm a no-kill shelter.”
“Nice,” he said quietly.
The door opened, and Olivia twisted her head to see who had arrived.
It was Deputy Sheriff Frank Vine. He’d been on duty the day Marcus had disappeared. For a cop, Frank was an exceptionally gentle man. Fifty-something, with hair that was almost pure white and a laid-back manner, Frank could be tough, but he listened, weighing every situation carefully.
He’d even listened to her when she’d found Marcus. He’d soothed her and told her sadly that people didn’t always live up to their own expectations or those of others. It didn’t make them bad people. They just hadn’t had the strength they’d needed.
“Morning, Frank,” she said.
“Olivia, good morning. And how are you doing, young lady?” he asked, sliding onto the stool to her left. He beamed at Delilah and then leaned back, unabashedly studying Dustin. “Hello, sir.”
“Frank Vine, Dustin Blake.” Olivia made quick introductions. Dustin stood for a moment to shake Frank’s hand. Delilah came over with a cup and the coffeepot. “Morning, Deputy Frank,” she said. “Dustin here is one of your own. A federal officer of the law.”
“Oh, yeah?” Frank looked at Dustin again. “Are you out here for any special reason?”
“I am. I’m attending the Horse Farm,” Dustin said.
“Oh.” Frank nodded but obviously remained curious.
“And I’m originally from Nashville.”
“Ah.” That seemed to make sense to Frank. “Our own Music City.” His pride in Nashville was evident.
“No better place,” Dustin agreed.
Frank nodded happily; Dustin had made a friend.
“I hear the Horse Farm had to do a lot of rescheduling this morning, because the lawyer’s coming to discuss the terms of Marcus Danby’s will,” Frank said.
“It’s a formality, but I guess it’s necessary,” Olivia put in.
“Deputy,” Dustin began. “I’m curious. I believe the medical examiner concluded that Marcus Danby’s death was accidental. The result of a fall, possibly brought on by a mind-altering substance. Heroin. Where did Marcus inject?”
Frank’s face turned a mottled red. “The usual,” he murmured.
“Vein in the arm?” Dustin asked. “I guess at his point in his life—when he fell back into drugs—he wouldn’t have collapsed veins, and the needle mark would’ve been easy for the medical pathologist to find.”
“Right,” Frank said. He looked over at Dustin. “He was a mighty fine man and the Horse Farm is a mighty fine place. We don’t judge Marcus harshly, and we ask you not to do so, either. You’re here for healing, I imagine, son, so let the healing begin. Now, Liv,” Frank said, turning to her. “Today will make things all legal. Aaron takes over, and that’s fitting. Aaron’s been Marcus’s right-hand man for over a decade now. But...I need you to do me a favor.”
“What’s that, Frank?”
“There’s a big old yellow dog on the property. Marcus came back with him after a trip to Memphis. He was at some animal shelter over there and was running out of days,” Frank said.
“Homer. He’s some kind of Lab mix—probably about three or four years old. He’s a great dog.”