“Nor do we know if anyone else was in the area,” Olivia added.
Mariah suddenly started sobbing again. “Aaron!” she wailed. “Oh, my God, Aaron.” She sank onto the ground and Olivia crouched down beside her. With everyone upset, Brent began to cry, as well. Dustin went to him, trying to offer some comfort. Brent was extremely susceptible to the emotions of others.
“It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “Aaron’s gone to the hospital. They’ll see what they can do for him there. He might be fine by tonight, Brent.”
“I like Aaron,” Brent told him between sobs. “I liked Marcus.”
“I know,” Dustin murmured.
“All right, let’s move along,” Frank said. “Jimmy, get these people moving. Who’s in charge now?” he demanded.
Drew cleared his throat. “Um—Olivia. If Aaron’s out of action, Olivia is in charge.”
“Liv,” Frank ordered, “get your stuff packed and take these boys back to the Horse Farm. I’ll get on the horn and see that someone from Parsonage House shows up and that Brent’s mom knows to come for him.”
“Have them ride back as they are—don’t pack up. Leave the campsite as it is. There might be something here that can give us some explanation...or at least a hint,” Dustin said.
“This is my jurisdiction,” Frank Vine told him. “You’re not going to find anything that might cause a man to walk to a stream and fall in. You want to investigate? Fine, walk down to the stream. Olivia, you get the others packed up and out of here!”
Short of doing something that would land him in jail or get him shot, Dustin was afraid his options were severely limited. So he took the risk of sharing the one piece of information he’d hoped to hold back—until he had the lab results, anyway.
“We need to look for a dart gun,” he said bluntly.
“What?”
It wasn’t just Frank who stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Everyone did.
“Ask Joey. We heard something whizzing by us in the woods the other day. Later I was out here walking and found a dart.” He decided this might be their only chance to discover the truth; he had to get Frank to at least consider the possibility. Coincidentally, he’d be able to observe the others’ reactions....
“I think Marcus Danby might have been hit by a dart, one that might have been tipped with horse tranquilizer. It would have knocked him out—and then heroin could’ve been administered. And down at the stream, Aaron could have been hit with a dart, causing him to nearly drown when he pitched forward. Someone could’ve put together a cocktail of acepromazine and barbiturates—just enough to knock someone out. Something that would dissolve quickly and not show up in the standard blood tests done at an autopsy.”
They all looked at him incredulously. “That’s kind of a stretch, Mr. Agent Man,” Vine said. “You’re kidding me, right? Someone’s running around with a dart gun? This is twenty-first-century Tennessee! We’re not in Africa or worrying about some ancient tribe on a Pacific island.”
“I’m talking about drugs and tranquilizers readily available on any farm in the area,” Dustin said.
“Still...” Frank protested.
“I found a dart in the woods.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“Was I supposed to report a dart?” Dustin asked with mock innocence. To you? So you could say some kid simply got a new dart gun for his birthday?
“You should report everything to local law enforcement—and that happens to be me,” Vine growled. “Even if you are a federal agent.”
“All right. I know that now. I know you’re open to anything that might be out of the ordinary. So, Deputy Sheriff Vine, why not investigate?” Dustin demanded. “Are you trying to hinder an investigation or carry one out?”
For a moment, he thought he’d gone too far—that Frank Vine was going to order Callahan to put handcuffs on Dustin.
Maybe the man was even in on it. He’d been involved with the search the day Marcus was found dead; he’d been one of the first to arrive at the scene.
Why would a cop do such a thing? An old ax to grind? Maybe Marcus had refused to give him the dog he’d wanted. Murder over a rescue pup? Seemed unlikely. He wondered what other reasons the deputy sheriff might have to obstruct the inquiry.
But to his amazement, Vine seemed willing to listen to him. He looked at Dustin for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then he looked down at the ground for an equally long moment. Finally he raised his head. “Believe me, I don’t want to hinder an investigation.”
Dustin did believe him. Vine was trying to be a good officer. He just had trouble accepting that something so absurd and devious could be going on.
“Olivia, you get everyone going,” Vine said. “The agent and I are—”