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

said.
    “Sandra, Sandra Cheever. Or Mama Cheever, as you heard, which I still don’t get. I don’t cuddle patients, don’t tuck them in—I don’t even brew tea, for God’s sake. But I do handle the paperwork and the scheduling around here. We have everything we need except your signature for the files. These days—especially working with animals—we have to get waivers. But your office took care of everything else.”
    “That’s great. What do I do? Where do I start? I’m ready to sign.”
    Hands on her hips, she cast her head at an angle to study him.
    “It’s good to hear your enthusiasm,” she told him. “I was afraid you’d be hostile to the situation—that it was a ‘come here or lose your job’ scenario.”
    “I’m from Nashville, but you know that. You probably know everything about me,” Dustin said. “And I love horses. This sounded better than any other offer I’ve had, so yep. I’m enthusiastic.”
    “Excellent. Then I’ll just bring you in to see Aaron. He’s our managing director.”
    She lifted a hand to point at a door with a placard that read Aaron Bentley.
    “Just tap and go on in,” Sandra said, grimacing as they heard a loud squeal from the back. “I’m going to go supervise. They’re good kids. When they’re here, anyway. But...they can get a bit crazy.”
    Sandra hurried to the back. Dustin watched her go as he tapped on the door.
    “Come in, it’s open!”
    Dustin stepped into the office. It was old-fashioned, to say the least. While the desk bore a laptop computer and a printer, an old blotter still sat on it, too, along with a memo tray piled high with papers. The room had two big leather-covered chairs in front of the desk and a worn couch to the rear. Windows looked out over one of the pastures.
    The man standing behind the desk was about six feet tall, bearded and balding. His beard was neatly clipped; he seemed far better organized in his personal appearance than he did in his office management skills. Thin gold-rimmed glasses sat on his nose. He smiled seeing Dustin and walked around the desk, offering his hand.
    “You must be Agent Blake. I’m sorry. One of us should have been out there to greet you.”
    “Oh, a nice woman named Sandra did greet me. And yes, I am. But please call me Dustin.”
    “We go by first names here, so that’s great. I’m Aaron. Aaron Bentley. We’re glad to have you here, Dustin. We’ve broken ground with many different groups, you know. About ten years ago, we started working with veterans—the physically wounded, and those who have wounded minds. We help children with disabilities, addicts of all ages, you name it—horse therapy can work wonders. But you’re our first law enforcement official. Let’s sit down for a moment.”
    Aaron returned to the swivel chair behind his desk, while Dustin sank into one of the old leather armchairs. It was comfortable. As messy as the office might look, that apparent chaos actually contributed to a sense of ease.
    “I spoke with your supervisor, a Mr. Jackson Crow,” Aaron said, folding his hands in front of him. He didn’t glance at papers or fiddle with anything on his desk. He gave his absolute attention to Dustin. “He said you were having nightmares and that he believes you’re—”
    “Burned out?” Dustin suggested.
    “No. Experiencing one of those spells where you’re having trouble weighing the good you’re able to provide against the horrors you have to see. I admit, when I first got the call, I suspected you’d been involved in some dreadful situation where innocents had been killed. But he tells me you’re one of his best agents and that he wants you to take some time off. He also said you don’t do well with traditional psychiatrists or therapy and that he hopes this will work for you.”
    “Ah, did he tell you that?” Dustin murmured. He’d had a general idea of what Jackson Crow had planned on saying; he didn’t know how close to home it might be.
    “I