“What did you learn?” Malachi asked.
“Aaron bought the drawing of the general,” Dustin said, getting right to the point.
“You’re sure?”
“I know his handwriting—and I know Horse Farm checks,” Olivia said.
“But,” Abby argued, “his buying the art doesn’t mean he put it in the forest during the camping trip. Or even if he did, it might have been a practical joke.”
“We don’t play practical jokes,” Olivia said. “Not when we’re dealing with kids who are struggling with addiction or other issues.”
“He might have intended it for some other purpose,” Malachi said. “Maybe he bought the artwork and then someone else discovered it—and took it.”
“And used his horse?” Olivia asked grimly. “I suppose that if anyone had a motive to kill Marcus, it would’ve been Aaron. And, of course, if anyone had a motive to kill Aaron...people would think it’s me.”
“Except,” Dustin pointed out, “by the time it got to you, so much damage would be done to the Horse Farm’s reputation that you really wouldn’t have a motive to kill him—certainly not this quickly.”
“Shh,” Malachi warned.
Delilah came sweeping down on them with a massive tray. Chicken potpies were served with a large plate of biscuits. Delilah fluttered around the table, making sure they had butter, jam and honey for the biscuits, silverware and iced tea refills. When she was finished, she said, “Olivia, honey, have you heard from that lawyer fellow yet?”
Olivia shook her head, feeling a little guilty. “No, I haven’t. I do need to call him.”
“Well, I just wanted to let you know. One of my regulars—another attorney fellow who runs back and forth between Nashville and Memphis—was asking me about it. I just wanted you to know that if it comes to selling, which of course I hope it won’t, he’ll buy the place. He’ll meet the price Marcus always wanted so the money could go to his charities. If you have to sell, you let me know.”
Olivia forced a smile. “Thanks, Delilah.”
“Who is this attorney, Delilah?” Dustin asked.
“Name is Henry Whittaker. His main office is in Nashville. I’m sure you can find him easy enough. If not, I’ve got his card somewhere.”
She beamed at them again and swept off.
“We’ve been thinking about this all wrong,” Dustin said.
Olivia gave him a puzzled look. “How do you mean?”
“Well, we suspected Aaron might have killed Marcus—because he’d get to be in charge of the Horse Farm. But Aaron’s out of the picture. I don’t think someone wants to kill everyone in order to run the Horse Farm. I think someone wants it to fail.”
“But why?” Olivia asked.
“That’s what we have to figure out. Sloan, anything on the women today?”
“Sandra Cheever never left her house. I followed Mariah to the Horse Farm and she saw both Sydney and Drew, hugged them a lot, cried a little—and then I followed her back to her place. She didn’t leave again. There’s still a deputy watching over Sandra.” He glanced at Olivia. “I called the office in Virginia and had a trace put on your boy Mason’s credit cards. He’s been in Nashville. Last uses were at the Country Music Hall of Fame and then a restaurant on Music Row.”
“We can’t solve anything tonight. I say we eat our potpies and get a good night’s sleep,” Malachi told them.
“I’m going to take Liv for a drive first,” Dustin said. “I think we should stop in and see the Horse Farm guests who live at Parsonage House.”
Olivia nodded. She wasn’t sure what they’d get from the boys, but she agreed that it was a good idea for her, as one of their therapists, to see them. They must be in shock. None of them had been particularly close to Aaron, but they knew him.
And now he was dead.
As she and Dustin left the diner, Malachi requested the keys to Marcus Danby’s house. Dustin must have discussed the plans with him while she was in the restroom. She found the keys in her bag; as she handed them to her cousin, she asked, “Do you think anyone’s made any attempt to get in there? Is there something they could be looking for?”
“We’ll go through whatever papers we can find. Sometimes even a greeting card can be a clue. Or he might have received some other correspondence that didn’t seem significant to him at the time,” Malachi replied.
“You don’t think you’re in any danger there, do you?”
He shrugged. “I doubt it, but it’s not impossible. Marcus doesn’t understand why anyone would kill him so there’s definitely some unknown factor here. However, Abby and I are both well trained and,” Malachi added with a grin, “we’re armed.”
When they’d all said good-night, Olivia and Dustin drove the short distance to Parsonage House. They were greeted by the director, Lance Osterly, a kindly, middle-aged man who still had the look of a pro wrestler—which he’d been at one point in his life.
“Liv, good to see you,” he greeted her as he waved them both in. He nodded at Dustin. “And you’re the FBI man, right? The boys talk a lot, you know,” he said with a wink.
Dustin offered his hand to Osterly.
“I’m sorry about Aaron,” Osterly told Olivia.
“I am, too. It’s so strange—I don’t even know how to handle this one,” she said.
Osterly shook his head. “The poor guy survives what should’ve killed him, and he still dies in a ridiculous way. The kids have talked of nothing else for the past few days. Anyway, I appreciate that you’re here. Come on—they’re outside on the patio.”
Osterly escorted them to a back door, which led to a pool and patio; the pool was covered until warmer weather returned but the patio was pretty with a rock wall fireplace and plenty of seating.
“Liv!” Joey was the first on his feet, rushing over to her. She thought of him as a boy, but he wasn’t really; he was an adolescent, taller than her—and awkward, as many young men his age were. She greeted him with a hug. By then, Matt, Sean and Nick had joined them, and she realized that although they were once-upon-a-time tough-guy addicts, now they were scared.
“You’re all doing okay?” Dustin asked them.
“We’re—we’re in an awful dilemma,” Matt said. “We know we’re okay and everything will be fine, but our parents are acting paranoid.”
“Somebody killed Aaron, right?” Nick asked. “I mean, I can’t forget that morning at the campsite. He almost drowned. And then he electrocuted himself in a bathtub? That’s what they’re saying—that’s what we’re supposed to believe. And changing our lives, going clean, is all about being honest, but there’s no honesty going on here.”
“And,” Sean muttered, “our parents have all been on the phone with Mr. Osterly. They’re questioning our safety.”
“I have another six weeks here,” Matt said. “They’re talking about pulling me out. I don’t want to go, Olivia. It’s like this place saved my life and a lot of that’s because of the horses. They taught me about boundaries and respect and they made me...they made me want a different life. A good life.”
“Some of us want to become therapists,” Joey told her. “Equine therapists.”
Olivia glanced at Dustin, grateful that he’d decided they should come here.
“Listen to me, all of you,” she said. “We will find out what happened. What they’re telling you isn’t a pack of lies—it’s just all anyone knows. But wherever you go from here, whatever you do—nothing changes the incredible strides you’ve made or the wonderful young people you are. I’m so proud of every one of you, and I’d love to see you go forward and get into therapy or working with horses, or whatever you feel is best for you.”
She felt Dustin’s hands on her shoulders. “You know we don’t believe Marcus Danby fell back into drugs,” he said. “And despite the fact that it appears Aaron was alone when he died, it’s just too ironic or coincidental—or stupid—to believe. Sometimes, though, it takes time to uncover the truth. If you are pulled out of this facility, don’t forget what you had here—your friendships, everything you learned. And you can call on us anytime.”