When Olivia finished with her last session, she discovered that Dustin Blake was still at the facility. He was playing doubles; he and Joey were partnered against Sean and Matt.
Officially, the Horse Farm was there for equine therapy. But any “guest”—as they officially called their patients or clients—was welcome on the grounds during open hours, which usually ended at six. They’d long ago noticed that their guests were comfortable at the Horse Farm and, because of that, many stayed long hours reading in the back room or playing games.
Olivia wondered if perhaps he’d been waiting for her. But she paused by the reception area, pouring herself a cup of coffee and watching him. She’d managed to call Malachi on her cell during her last ride, and he’d managed to call her back. Yes, if she’d answered her phone, she would have learned that Blake was the agent who’d been sent.
He was a curious choice, she thought. He was hardly nondescript. The man stood at about six foot four. He had the kind of lean, hard muscle that might be seen on a basketball player. His every movement hinted at agility. His face was chiseled, his jaw square, and he had flashing dark eyes that seemed to view the world around him with a certain amount of skepticism. No one could miss him. Hardly the type to slip in and out of anywhere unnoticed.
But then, he’d come here as what he was—or mostly as what he was. Aaron was practically giddy that the bureau had chosen their facility as a place for the man to unwind, chill out or vanquish his demons. Nowhere in the paperwork had it been suggested that he was addicted to alcohol or other substances, but you didn’t have to be an addict or suffering from a physical or congenital disadvantage to benefit from the Horse Farm. Marcus Danby had believed that the best therapy brought various kinds of people together. For instance, a stressed-out business exec could learn that patience and tolerance for an autistic or otherwise handicapped child was something that should come naturally. Equally, a young man like Brent could show true acceptance and affection to a drug addict or alcoholic who discovered that friends—real friends, or the ones who’d enabled their addictions—were afraid to be there for them anymore.
But while they’d had handsome high school and college football heroes, a number of pro athletes, musicians and some of the people who pulled major strings on Wall Street, they’d never had anyone quite like Dustin Blake.
He was the topic du jour.
Drew Dicksen stepped in from outside. He walked directly over to her and the table with the ever-present coffee service.
“Hey, how are you doing, kid?” he asked her.
He seemed to look at her with concern all the time now.
“I’m doing all right. How about you?”
“Fine. Fine, thanks. So, you met the new guy.”
“Yeah.”
“How did it go?”
“Okay.”
Drew leaned against the wall, pensively watching the back room. “I wonder why he’s really here.”
“Pardon?” she said, startled. Did people know?
He smiled and lowered his voice. “I mean, what did he do? The kids talk about it constantly. They think maybe he cornered a serial killer—and shot him down rather than arresting him. Or he freaked in the middle of a tense situation. They keep making up scenarios—and they’re making me wonder, too.” He laughed. “In fact, it’s hard not to join in with their fantasies.”
“I doubt that he freaked out, or that he’s violent. If he was, I don’t think he’d be here,” Olivia said pragmatically.
“He’s sure got a rapport with kids,” Drew said.
“The kids adore you, too. More than that, they respect you.”
“Most of the ones we get are good kids,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’m not jealous. My real job is basically pooper-scooper. And he’s an FBI guy—where’s the comparison?”
“Andrew! You and Sydney save animals, animals found in the worst possible conditions sometimes. You care for them, and you keep everything in this place running.”
“Don’t say that in front of Aaron!” he said with a laugh. “Me, I don’t want to be an FBI man. I’m not at all fond of the concept of people shooting at me. Can’t help but be curious, though. So how did he do today?”
“Fine. He worked well with others and seems to know horses.”
“He is from Tennessee.”
“Drew, not everyone from Tennessee rides horses,” she reminded him.
“No kidding?”
Olivia rolled her eyes.
They heard a loud shrill of delight. “We won!” Joey cried happily.
“Rematch tomorrow!” Sean shouted back at him.
Sandra Cheever suddenly appeared, marching over to the boys. “Tomorrow being the key word. Out, young ’uns. We have to lock up.”
“Aw...”
The kids began filing out for the night. They all said their goodbyes to Olivia and Drew. Joey paused by the door. There was a sign-up sheet for the history/ghost tour and camping trip Mariah was planning to lead on Friday night.
Joey paused, turning around. Olivia thought he was talking to her at first when he asked, “Are you going?”
Then she realized that Dustin Blake was standing right behind her.
“What is it exactly?”
“Mariah Naughton. Remember, she was talking about it at the diner last night? We take the horses and ride out to sites that aren’t part of the National Battlefield Parks. I mean, they can’t own everything, and there was Civil War action all around here. She talks about Tennessee battles, the ghosts that remain, and then we go set up camp by the stream. It’s really cool.”
“Seriously, nothing here is really cool, man,” Sean said, sticking his head back in and placing his hands on Joey’s shoulders. “But it’s the coolest thing we get while we’re in purgatory.”
“You’re right. I do remember. Sounds great,” Dustin said.
Olivia glanced at him, trying not to frown. Ping-Pong and camping? That was how an agent worked?
Joey scribbled on the sheet and turned back to Dustin. “I put your name down, okay?”
“Thanks.”
Aaron had come out of his office. Sandra—herding the boys out the door—was now behind Dustin.
“Guess I need to get out of here, too,” Dustin said. “Thank you. I’ve heard about this place for years. It’s fantastic. Good day for me.”
“Glad to have you, Agent—Dustin,” Aaron said.
As he walked out, Aaron turned to them. “Drew, can you get Sydney? And, Sandra, can you find Mariah and Mason? We need a little meeting.”
Five minutes later, they were all seated on the couches and chairs in the entry room. Once everyone had settled in, Aaron said, “We have to decide how to handle this situation. First, just to let you know, Sandra and I have rescheduled all our sessions for tomorrow—the lawyer’s coming in the morning.” He cleared his throat. “I guess you’re all aware that Marcus was the end of his line. I believe, since he and I discussed it many times, that the facility was left to me, but no one can be certain of anything until his attorney reads his final will and testament. I know, as well, that he left something from his life for every one of you. There are also clauses that protect the property and the livestock in the event of my death. So...that’s one thing. The other is...we have to decide on spin.”
“Spin?” Mariah asked.
Aaron exhaled. “Well, the information about the autopsy is out. Naturally, in today’s age of instant information and social media, it was inevitable, and some people are going to make a big deal of it. We all know the autopsy revealed he was on drugs. The blood tests made that clear. I saw Marcus that morning—he was fine. In fact, he was in a great mood. What happened to make him relapse after all those years...I don’t know. The thing is, it puts us in a bad light. What good does any of this therapy do if the man who founded the Horse Farm died while on drugs?”