“Hello, Deputy.”
“What kind of therapy are you having at the morgue?”
“Oh, I just stopped by to ask about Marcus—how he’d injected the heroin.”
“You think we don’t know what we’re doing out here?” Vine demanded.
“I never suggested such a thing. You didn’t really give me an answer when I asked, that’s all.”
“Well, you’ve got your answer now. And you have no jurisdiction out here. We really do know what we’re doing, Agent Blake.”
“Yes, sir,” Dustin said.
Vine stared at him, obviously still irritated. He walked past Dustin, stopped and came back, wagging a finger at him. “You stay out of our business, Blake. You’re not here to police my officers. I’ll call your superiors, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Dustin said again. “I’m on my way.” He smiled and strolled out to his car.
He prayed that his gut had been right and Wilson wouldn’t betray him.
Then he drove as quickly as he could—watching the speed limit—to the Horse Farm.
God knew he didn’t want Vine arresting him for a traffic violation!
9
By five-thirty that evening, they were ready to start out on their camping trip.
Olivia was, naturally, taking Shiloh and she was glad to see that Drew had chosen Chapparal for Dustin. The two seemed well-suited to each other. Dustin was obviously familiar with horses and had riding experience.
The horses were all in use except for Martin, and he’d remain behind with Sydney. If for any reason someone needed to be reached quickly during the night, Sydney knew where they’d be and had Martin to get to them.
Mariah led the way on Pixie as they rode out, not starting her spiel yet, since they were riding single file on the forest trail.
They moved deep into the trees. Eventually they came to a clearing in the forest and Mariah reined in, allowing them all to break and dismount for a few minutes. She directed them to a little path that led deeper into the thickness of the woods, an area where the dying sunlight now brought about an eerie green darkness. Everyone had a penlight, while Drew, Aaron, Mason and Sandra carried lanterns.
Mariah said, “In a few minutes, we’re going to visit one of our small Confederate graveyards. You have to remember that when you go to a national cemetery, you won’t find any Confederates, unless they were pardoned and joined the Union army after the war. Confederate dead have their own cemeteries, or else they were returned to their hometowns. And certainly many soldiers—North and South—remain in unmarked graves on the fields where they died. While it was incredibly important for both God-fearing men of the North and South to retrieve their dead, it wasn’t always possible. They died on bloody fields that had to be abandoned, or they were beyond recognition by the time they were found.
“A side note of interest—what we celebrate now as Memorial Day was begun by Confederate women who decorated the graves of their loved ones. Many places lay claim to having the first true ‘Decoration Day,’ but most historians agree that the widows and other grieving women of the South began what became our national holiday before the end of the Civil War—or, as we were sometimes taught to call it, the War of Northern Aggression.” Mariah grinned. “No one get mad at me for getting my history wrong tonight, huh? Remember, Tennessee was always a divided state and we’re all darned glad we’re one Union now!” Mariah stopped speaking, reaching for the water bottle attached to her saddle. She looked at Olivia. “Want to take it for a minute?”