Wilson walked straight over to him. He seemed to be glancing around to see if Frank Vine was anywhere near them and satisfied himself that he wasn’t.
“Horrible business, this,” he said. He lowered his voice. “I have results for you. That dart you brought me. There was a concoction of drugs—some had seeped into the bark. It was a cocktail of stuff, the kind that wouldn’t be found in an autopsy unless specific tests were ordered. The kind that would do a swift number—a real doozy on someone—and then fade quickly away.” He stopped speaking. Dustin turned to see that Frank had come out of the bathroom.
“It’s all right, Robbie,” he told Dr. Wilson. “You’re not conspiring against me. Agent Blake is working this case with my permission and he’s called in a few coworkers, I believe?”
Wilson—apparently “Robbie” to Frank Vine—let out a sigh of relief. “Frank, I haven’t seen anything like this in all my years out here. Best to accept any and all help, I’d say.”
“You might want to remove your corpse,” Frank suggested.
“I’m going to get the body now,” Wilson said. “At least we know the time of death,” Frank pointed out. “The deputy made a note of it. Not to mention that all the clocks stopped at 10:23 a.m.”
“I’ll get Aaron down to the morgue and get right on this.” Wilson shook his head wearily. “Hell, twice. Men I liked, men I admired. This is a sad day for all of us.”
As he returned to the bathroom. Dustin looked at Frank Vine. “I still say you bring Sandra in.”
“There were witnesses who saw her when this happened,” Frank argued. “She was nowhere near the house.”
“She still might know something. See if Aaron was talking about having anyone over, or if he said anything to her about what he planned to do,” Dustin said. “We’ve got to shake this up, Frank. There could be other victims.”
“You coming down to the station?” Frank asked him.
Dustin nodded.
“What about Olivia?”
“I’m not letting her out of my sight,” Dustin replied.
Vine didn’t protest; he just nodded. “All right. I’ll have her brought in.”
“Have your men checked whether there’s any sign of forced entry?” Dustin asked. “Windows?”
“None.”
“Is there a back door?”
“Yes.”
Dustin walked toward it. He used a paper towel he grabbed from the kitchen to check it. There was no bolt, only a push lock, the kind you could depress as you were leaving and the door would lock behind you.
“Someone could have left this way,” Dustin told Frank, who’d come with him.
“Yeah, they could have left this way, but how would they have gotten in?”
“With a key.”
“Not Sandra. An officer followed them from the hospital. She let him off, waved to the deputy watching the house and drove away before Aaron even went inside.”
“That doesn’t mean someone else wasn’t already in the house,” Dustin said.
Disposing of the paper towel, Dustin walked outside. Olivia was leaning against the car; Deputy Jimmy Callahan stood next to her, arms crossed over his chest, looking vigilant. When he saw Dustin, he nodded and walked into the house to talk to Frank.
Olivia gazed mutely at Dustin, her eyes beseeching him to tell her it wasn’t true.
She knew it was.
She didn’t cry. Her face, though, was pinched and tight. She was in shock, he thought. Two men she’d worked closely with, two men she saw almost every day, were dead. He wanted to tell her to cry, that it was all right.
But she spoke before he could.
“Have they informed the others yet?” she asked.
“I think someone from the sheriff’s department was calling—trying to reach the Horse Farm to let Sydney and Drew know what happened. I’m sure they’ll try to contact Mason and Mariah, too. They’re going to pick up Sandra now.” He indicated a news van down the street, held back by an officer in uniform. “The media have picked up on it. The police always try to make the first notification.”
“Of course. It’s dreadful to hear that something horrible has happened to someone you know via the TV or radio or— They’re going to pick up Sandra? Why? Sandra wasn’t even with Aaron when he...died....”
“They have to rattle some cages. They’ll start interviewing everyone now, wanting to know where they were every second.”
She nodded. “I’d like to go to the Horse Farm. I just want... I want to tell Sydney and Drew that we’ll do everything in our power.... That we’ll hang in there.” She looked at him. “Dustin, if someone wanted the Horse Farm—I’m the next person in line.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“So people can’t be dying for the Horse Farm—I mean, there is no Horse Farm if we don’t have any clients. Any guests.”
“I know.” Dustin looked straight ahead as he drove, hardly able to bear her stoicism, her emotional restraint. He knew she had to be suffering and understood that she wasn’t ready to express her grief.
When they reached the Horse Farm, Olivia sighed audibly.
Drew and Sydney had dragged a couple of feed crates out front. They sat on them—both cradling shotguns as they squinted down the road.
Olivia hopped out of the car and approached them. “What the hell are you two doing?” she demanded.
“You heard, right?” Sydney asked her thickly. “Aaron—he’s dead.”
“In the bathtub,” Drew said. “Electrocuted. They’re saying it was an accident.”
“Accident?” Sydney snorted. “Accident, my ass. We should’ve been listening to you a lot earlier, Olivia.”
“You saved the poor bastard’s life,” Drew said, shaking his head at Dustin. “And then he goes and takes a bath!”
“Who knew bathing could be lethal?” Sydney said dully.
Olivia set a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all so sorry,” she said. “I’m going to miss him so much.”
“What’s going to happen now?” Sydney asked.
“We’ll—we’ll just go on. Somehow, we’ll go on. I’m going to get out a press release saying that we’re closed—in mourning. We’ll reopen in a few weeks,” Olivia said.
“Horses have to eat,” Drew mumbled. “I can manage, though. And if you need financial help...”
“Thank you.” She gave him a shaky smile. “But I think our operating sheets are pretty good. We can maintain the place for a few months without digging into anyone’s personal funds and if it comes to that—well, we’ll figure it out.” Olivia cleared her throat. “I don’t think the two of you need to sit here with shotguns.”
“Yeah. We just need to stay out of bathtubs,” Drew said.
“And out of the woods,” Sydney added.
“Duck flying needles,” Drew muttered.
“And darts,” Sydney agreed.
“I have people coming in this afternoon,” Dustin told him. “We’ll get someone to stay here at the Horse Farm. I don’t think either of you is a target, though.”
“Maybe someone wanted to kill Marcus to get this place, except that doesn’t make sense because of all the trusts and the nonprofit and...” Sydney’s voice trailed off. He shook his head and began again. “If there had been someone who wanted Marcus dead, logically it would’ve been Aaron. But now Aaron’s dead, and next in line is Olivia...and...”
“Is Liv a target now?” Drew asked bluntly.
“Maybe. But you don’t need to worry unduly. Some people will believe that what happened to Aaron was an accident. He was alone in his house—there was a deputy stationed outside it,” Dustin explained.
“We had to go through this twice—thinking he died,” Drew said. “That isn’t fair.” He glanced at Dustin with a look of resignation on his face. “He’s really dead this time, huh?”