The Night Is Forever by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

taking a deep breath.
    He couldn’t have been taking a breath. He wasn’t alive. Olivia took another sip of her tea. She’d be heading into her kitchen for the brandy in a minute.
    “You were on the ground,” she said, encouraging him to continue.
    “I don’t know if I was hit in the head, if... I just don’t know. At first, there was nothing. And then...then I was on a high like you wouldn’t believe, and I knew I was in trouble. I got up and started walking and then...I felt a shove at my back and I fell and you know the rest of it!”
    “So you believe that someone intentionally drugged you?”
    “Yes. Not to mention the part about killing me.”
    “I told the police you would never have intentionally relapsed, Marcus. I’ve sworn it, I’ve defended you, I...I called my cousin.”
    “Malachi?”
    “He’s an FBI agent, Marcus.”
    “And he’s coming out here?”
    “Ah, no. But he’s working on something. After I talked to Malachi and he promised to get someone here, I found out that we have a federal agent showing up as a client tomorrow. I’m sure he’s the help Malachi’s sending.”
    “Why doesn’t Malachi come himself? Why doesn’t he tell you things directly?”
    “He’s with the government. Those guys are all paranoid, I think,” Olivia muttered. “Anyway, it’s complicated, Marcus. People in this area know that we’re cousins. Some of them know Malachi. Like you. Sorry, I mean, you knew him—”
    “It’s all right. Go on.”
    “You can’t just step on the toes of the local police. So Malachi’s managed to get a big shot to believe that something’s wrong here, and they’re sending someone out. Under the guise of a client.”
    Marcus remained somber but he nodded and looked at her with hope in his eyes. “Thanks, Liv. You have to solve this. The Horse Farm is a one-of-a-kind place. We work with addicts, with autistic and Down syndrome kids, with burned-out adults, the severely depressed.... But you know all that. And you know that it was always my way to make amends and to help others live quality lives and...you love the Horse Farm, too,” he finished.
    “I’ll do everything I can, Marcus,” she promised. She closed her eyes for a minute.
    When she opened them, Marcus was gone.
    Great. In death, Marcus—always the most polite of men—had suddenly decided to be rude.

3
    D ustin arrived at the Horse Farm. There was a massive sign on the narrow paved road that led to a long dirt drive, a sign announcing that he’d reached the Horse Farm.
    It was an impressive place. Acres of rolling fields surrounded it, gorgeous hills crested in the background and rich forests stood beyond the pastures and meadows. When he got there, he saw that to the right of the drive were the massive stables, painted a cheerful bright red. To the left was the office and rec building; it, too, was large, but built ranch-style with only one story. Parking in the dusty drive out front, he headed for the office. Opening the door, he found old western furniture, walls covered with prints, paintings and newspaper clippings of horses, and overstuffed leather sofas. He saw a games room with people playing Ping-Pong and heard the whack, whack, whack of the ball going back and forth. A young woman breezed by him with a quick “Hello!” and hurried on to the back. “I’m challenging the winner!” she called.
    A woman in her mid-or late thirties stepped aside to allow the young blonde to move past, to the games room. She shook her head but smiled tolerantly.
    “Sorry, Mama Cheever!” the younger woman said.
    “It’s fine, Liz. Go save your spot.” There was something both matronly and businesslike about her. She wore western-style boots, jeans and a colorful cotton shirt. She’d seen Dustin arrive and was coming toward him. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Maybe that was it. She had a long, sharp-featured face that rather resembled a giraffe’s.
    “Agent Blake?”
    “Yes,” he