The Night Is Forever by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

course, but he was there— almost in the flesh. He appeared to move, to walk, to talk, to be her friend as he’d been in life.
    Except, of course, that he was upset. With her?
    She shouldn’t be so frozen, she told herself. She’d seen ghosts before, met ghosts before! For God’s sake, her cousin, Malachi, lived with a great old fellow, a Revolutionary War ghost.
    And she’d seen the general on the Tennessee hills many times. Some in this area called it a gift, some called it a curse, and some thought those who claimed to have it were flat-out crazy. Therefore, most people learned at an early age to pretend that what was...wasn’t. And when you knew that ghosts could make you appear crazy or even feel like you were crazy, you learned how to cope.
    Malachi had kept her sane when they were kids. He’d convinced her that it had to be a secret they shared. And, of course, she sometimes had to be wary of the ghosts themselves. They stayed behind for a reason. It was best to know that reason before making friends.
    She remembered one time when they were older, when he’d come out to her college graduation. He’d talked to her once they had some time alone, and she’d smiled because only Malachi had been able to make her laugh.
    “I’ve got it,” she’d told him with mock-seriousness. “The way to handle ghosts is by not acknowledging the dead. You keep walking as if you’re in a hurry. You step over bodies along the way—ah, I’ve got it. Pretend you’re a stereotypical New Yorker. You march forward with an agenda at all times, walking briskly, and for the love of God, you never make eye contact.”
    “Hey, some of my best friends are New Yorkers!” Malachi said, laughing.
    Malachi had always had a sense of humor—and he’d always been tough. He’d gone into police work, and now he was with the FBI. She’d called him hysterically after the authorities had come to claim Marcus’s body, and he’d been so helpful. He’d made her understand that the federal government had to be invited in when there wasn’t a major crime that involved perpetrators crossing state lines, a kidnapping or circumstances in which local authorities had requested assistance.
    Never once, however, had he suggested that she was making things up to save the Horse Farm, or that she was overwrought. He’d promised her that he would find a way to help her. “I’m not sure if I’m the right one to come out there at this point. Too many people are aware that I’m your cousin, and it’ll immediately appear as if you’re asking for outside help,” he’d told her. “Good way to piss off the local cops.”
    She didn’t care about appearances. She wished Malachi had come.
    The most bizarre thing was that Marcus Danby—or the ghost of Marcus Danby—was speaking much more easily than she seemed capable of doing at the moment.
    Olivia managed to take a sip of her tea. She stilled her shattered nerves, took a deep breath and spoke to him. “Marcus, there was an autopsy.”
    “I know. Ugh!” Marcus said, grimacing, a shiver racing visibly through his body. “Yes, no one’s fault—accidental death and all that.”
    “And drugs were found in your system.”
    “That’s just it, Liv. I swore, so many years ago, that I’d never touch drugs again as long as I lived. I wasn’t tempted. I didn’t hit what they call a trigger situation. I was a happy man.”
    “So?”
    “Okay, here was my day. I got up, had my coffee. Came by the Horse Farm. I love this time of year—not cold yet, not hot like summer. Sammy was playful. I was going to go for a ride and then I decided on a walk so I could take him along. Suddenly, not far from the ravine, Sammy starts wagging his tail, then barking like crazy. He raced off toward the grove of trees west of the ravine and he didn’t come back. So I called out to him and followed him, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground. I didn’t feel pain. I was just...on the ground.” He paused as if