Delilah tsked at her, then selected a little pod for her new machine; her frown became a smile of pleasure when her espresso machine instantly began to steam up and pour out dark brown liquid. She prepared the coffee, added the espresso and set it before Olivia. “I should name this concoction after you!” she said proudly.
“Oh, I don’t think it really needs a name,” Olivia told her. “The chain coffee shops have it already, I’m afraid. They just call it coffee with a shot of espresso.”
“Here’s it going to be a ‘Liv’!” Delilah insisted.
The door opened and Dustin made his entrance. “Morning, Delilah,” he said. “Good morning, Olivia.” He walked up to take a seat at the counter beside her.
“My, my, you folks are up early today,” Delilah remarked. “Nice to see you, Agent Blake. Sorry— Dustin.”
“Thanks.”
“How about a ‘Liv’?” Delilah offered.
“A Liv?” he asked with a question in his eyes as he smiled over at her.
The man had a good smile, Olivia thought. At the moment, it revealed charm and a touch of amusement. He really was a perfect man—lean, hard-muscled and fit. His skin was slightly bronzed, his eyes a striking deep green and his shock of neatly clipped hair defined the concept of auburn.
She hoped he couldn’t read her thoughts. She felt her cheeks flush and spoke quickly to cover her embarrassment. “I happen to be the first person Delilah’s ever served a coffee with an espresso thrown in. She’s going to call it a ‘Liv’ from now on.”
“Oh,” he said gravely, turning to Delilah. “Sounds wonderful. Looks wonderful. How does it taste?”
“It’s excellent,” Olivia assured him.
“Guess when you’re up and at ’em this early, makes good sense,” Delilah said. “So, did you find an alarm company, hon? I can’t really help—we never needed an alarm around here, you know?”
“I found one.” Olivia stood up. “Excuse me while I give them a call.” She walked down to the end of the little diner. The office was open and she arranged for a technician to come out on Saturday. That was the earliest someone would be available.
It would have to do, she told herself. Two days. She returned to her chair.
“Any luck, honey?” Delilah asked.
“Yeah, I’m all set up.”
Delilah turned to Dustin. “I said I couldn’t advise her. I’ve got a shotgun—and a man.” She nodded knowingly, then gestured at Olivia. “Can you imagine? This sweet young thing was with a fella who lit out for Austin!”
Olivia could feel Dustin’s eyes on her.
She groaned. “Delilah, he’s making a great living in Austin and I’m happy for him. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”
“Some people are fine, you know,” Dustin said. There was amusement in his voice. But he seemed to sense her discomfort and changed the subject.
“I’d love to have a ‘Liv,’ too,” he said. “And some of your pancakes, please.”
Olivia decided on an omelet.
Whistling, Delilah conveyed their orders to Steve and set to work on Dustin’s coffee. After glancing at Olivia and obviously trying not to grin, Dustin chatted casually, asking her how they went about choosing the right horses to work with people.
“Well, obviously, when Marcus brought in a rescue animal with bad kicking habits, or one that nipped, we kept working the horse ourselves.”
“And could you retrain all of them so they could work with others?” he asked.
“Most of the time, rescues have been neglected but they can work well with people and enjoy human interaction. Every once in a while, though, we’ve gotten a horse that was so abused it could never be assigned to anyone who wasn’t experienced with horses.”
“And then?”
Olivia shrugged. “And then one of the staff would just keep working with the horse or sometimes use it for group trail rides. Occasionally, if a horse had been so abused that Marcus could never feel comfortable allowing anyone to ride it, the horse was just retired and allowed to stay in the paddocks for the duration of its natural life.” She looked straight ahead for a moment. “Marcus made the Horse Farm a no-kill shelter.”
“Nice,” he said quietly.
The door opened, and Olivia twisted her head to see who had arrived.
It was Deputy Sheriff Frank Vine. He’d been on duty the day Marcus had disappeared. For a cop, Frank was an exceptionally gentle man. Fifty-something, with hair that was almost pure white and a laid-back manner, Frank could be tough, but he listened, weighing every situation carefully.
He’d even listened to her when she’d found Marcus. He’d soothed her and told her sadly that people didn’t always live up to their own expectations or those of others. It didn’t make them bad people. They just hadn’t had the strength they’d needed.
“Morning, Frank,” she said.
“Olivia, good morning. And how are you doing, young lady?” he asked, sliding onto the stool to her left. He beamed at Delilah and then leaned back, unabashedly studying Dustin. “Hello, sir.”
“Frank Vine, Dustin Blake.” Olivia made quick introductions. Dustin stood for a moment to shake Frank’s hand. Delilah came over with a cup and the coffeepot. “Morning, Deputy Frank,” she said. “Dustin here is one of your own. A federal officer of the law.”
“Oh, yeah?” Frank looked at Dustin again. “Are you out here for any special reason?”
“I am. I’m attending the Horse Farm,” Dustin said.
“Oh.” Frank nodded but obviously remained curious.
“And I’m originally from Nashville.”
“Ah.” That seemed to make sense to Frank. “Our own Music City.” His pride in Nashville was evident.
“No better place,” Dustin agreed.
Frank nodded happily; Dustin had made a friend.
“I hear the Horse Farm had to do a lot of rescheduling this morning, because the lawyer’s coming to discuss the terms of Marcus Danby’s will,” Frank said.
“It’s a formality, but I guess it’s necessary,” Olivia put in.
“Deputy,” Dustin began. “I’m curious. I believe the medical examiner concluded that Marcus Danby’s death was accidental. The result of a fall, possibly brought on by a mind-altering substance. Heroin. Where did Marcus inject?”
Frank’s face turned a mottled red. “The usual,” he murmured.
“Vein in the arm?” Dustin asked. “I guess at his point in his life—when he fell back into drugs—he wouldn’t have collapsed veins, and the needle mark would’ve been easy for the medical pathologist to find.”
“Right,” Frank said. He looked over at Dustin. “He was a mighty fine man and the Horse Farm is a mighty fine place. We don’t judge Marcus harshly, and we ask you not to do so, either. You’re here for healing, I imagine, son, so let the healing begin. Now, Liv,” Frank said, turning to her. “Today will make things all legal. Aaron takes over, and that’s fitting. Aaron’s been Marcus’s right-hand man for over a decade now. But...I need you to do me a favor.”
“What’s that, Frank?”
“There’s a big old yellow dog on the property. Marcus came back with him after a trip to Memphis. He was at some animal shelter over there and was running out of days,” Frank said.
“Homer. He’s some kind of Lab mix—probably about three or four years old. He’s a great dog.”
“I’d like to have him. Think you could make that happen for me? Marcus might’ve left him to you in his will. He liked the big old mutt almost as much as his Sammy.”
“Frank, you know animals come to the farm not because we need more animals, but so they can survive. Whether Homer was left to me or Aaron or anyone else, I’m sure we’d all be delighted for you to have him.”
“Thanks. The kids are all grown up now with kids of their own, and since last fall... Well, I figured that dog kind of took a hankering to me and I kind of took a hankering to him,” Frank said.
Frank’s wife had passed away the year before from cancer. Olivia patted his hand. “Homer would be
