The Night is Forever. Heather Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ body that raced past him—and threw his arms around Liv.

      “Oh!” she gasped, and then laughed, hugging the intruder. “Brent, turn around now. I want you to meet a new member of our group. This is Dustin. Dustin, please meet Brent.”

      Brent had Down syndrome. He studied Dustin unabashedly and smiled, thrusting out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Dustin.” He enunciated his words carefully.

      “Brent, pleased to meet you, too, buddy,” Dustin said.

      “I’m here, I’m here!” A woman came trotting out to the paddock.

      “Hey, Patty,” Olivia said.

      “Am I late?” the woman asked. She looked at Olivia but then stared at Dustin. “Hi.”

      “You’re not late,” Olivia said. She introduced Dustin. The woman kept staring at him.

      “Joey should be here any minute,” Olivia said. “I’ll be right back.”

      She made her way to the stables. “Hi, Patty,” Brent said.

      Patty smiled at him. “Hi, there, Brent.” She looked at Dustin again. “So, you’re really with the FBI ?”

      Dustin nodded.

      “What have they got you in here for?” she asked him.

      “I’m not even sure how to explain it,” Dustin told her. She was still smiling as she studied him. He slanted his head. “What is it?”

      “Sorry!” she said. “I’m in court-ordered therapy because of some...problems I had. I’m glad. I need my life back. I have a little girl and I want custody of her. At least shared custody. Her dad’s half the reason I’m here—nope! I’m the reason I’m here. But now I get to say I was in with an FBI agent, and that makes it...I don’t know. It makes it better somehow. I mean, people who do important things, people like you, can have problems just like me.”

      “Well, uh, good,” Dustin said, a little helplessly.

      “Especially after what happened to Marcus,” she added.

      He didn’t get a chance to say any more. Joey was there. Dustin was glad to see that he seemed to have a special place in his heart for Brent and made a point of greeting him.

      Olivia Gordon reappeared, leading a massive bay gelding with a glossy coat. He had to be about seventeen hands high.

      “This is Cheyenne. He was bought as a three-year-old for a young rider. He was too much for her and the father sold him to a hack ranch. He was never handled properly and started throwing riders. One of the stable hands thought that whipping him would work and Cheyenne threw him into a field. He was then put in a paddock and basically ignored until—” she paused for just a second “—until Marcus Danby came upon him. We’ve had him about three months now and we’re working with him today because we’re working on boundaries. So, first, one by one, get to know him.”

      Dustin had to admit he wasn’t sure how getting to know a horse was going to be therapeutic for an adolescent boy, a Down syndrome child and a woman in court-ordered rehab. Or how a difficult horse could help anyone with “boundaries.” Or why the three of them seemed like a good combo.

      But as their time together progressed, he realized that what Olivia was telling them was true. They each worked with the animal, leading him, stopping with him, leading him again. She taught them to respect the horse—but to maintain control. They were given a distance to cover; they weren’t to stop because Cheyenne tried to bully them into walking over to the grass. Neither were they to jerk on his reins or in any way harm the horse.

      It was interesting—even for Dustin—because the horse was a powerhouse of muscle. They were encouraged to speak to one another. And they were all encouraged to give the horse encouragement, to applaud his compliance. When Olivia ended the session, she released the gelding and he immediately bolted for the field. Cheyenne ran about for a few minutes. And then he ran back to them. He nudged Brent, and Brent laughed delightedly and returned the animal’s affection.

      “How did you get him to do that?” Patty asked Olivia.

      “I didn’t. He chose to come back,” Olivia said. “Okay, we’ll take Cheyenne to the stables now. Grooming time.”

      It was an intriguing exercise. Olivia supplied brushes and they decided among themselves who’d do the mane and tail and how they’d share this one-person task.

      Then their two-hour session was over. Olivia told Brent to say hello to his mom for her, said goodbye to Patty and informed Joey that they’d be ready for his ride in half an hour. She turned to Dustin. He was struck again by the beauty of this slender woman who seemed to have so much confidence, such easy control.

      She was obviously waiting for the others to walk away so she could speak to him privately. But they were talking and laughing among themselves.

      He moved closer to her. “I’m here because of Malachi,” he said quietly.

      She glanced quickly around. “Someone could have called me and told me that yes, it was being handled.”

      Her taut response gave him a start. He lowered his voice. “You could answer your phone,” he told her. “Although one would’ve thought that if you’d called an agent for help and another agent showed up, you’d put two and two together. Then again, if you answered your phone, you might have spoken with both of us.”

      She looked away. “Yesterday wasn’t a good day for us. We got the autopsy report in the morning.”

      “Yes, I know that, Ms. Gordon. Because the day before, I was about to head out on a serious case—kidnapping and murder in the Northwest. Instead, I’m here—where an addict might or might not have gone back to his old ways.”

      She flashed a glance at him, her eyes shimmering with hostility. “I’m sorry. I would think the murder of any human being was important and worth investigating. If we’re not gruesome enough for you, I do apologize. But you are here to investigate. I—”

      She paused, moving a step closer. She might work with horses in a stable, but she wore some kind of subtle perfume that made her smell like the whisper of flowers in the breeze.

      “I have two individual sessions this afternoon. You’re not one of them. Everyone starts off with a session like you just went through, to see if they feel this will be of benefit to them. That will allow you to fit in here, which is the point. So, now you can investigate. What are you going to do?”

      He frowned at her, somewhat irritated that she’d gotten under his skin. All his life he’d walked a straight line. He felt he had sympathy for those left behind after a death, although he wasn’t and never had been a counselor in any way. But he didn’t let emotion invade his work. In his position, he couldn’t. He’d wind up...

      In therapy, he thought dryly.

      “Well?” she asked. “What will you do this afternoon?”

      He angled his head thoughtfully. “I’m going to play Ping-Pong. What time do you get off, Ms. Gordon?”

      * * *

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