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.
“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.