Even as Olivia watched Drew, a dark silhouette in the doorframe with sunlight pouring in behind him, he pitched over. She hadn’t heard the whizzing sound that time; she’d been watching Sloan fall before she turned to Drew.
Something told her she needed to get the dart out of Sloan’s back.
She managed to rip out the tiny shaft and drop down by the sofa, ruining anyone’s clear shot at her.
It wasn’t Drew trying to kill her, though, because poor Drew was out on the floor. Sydney?
But Sydney was in the stables.
No, he wasn’t.
“Drew? Hey, Drew! Liv? Sloan? Where the hell is everyone?” Sydney had left the stables; he sounded perplexed, and he was on his way to the office.
“Sydney, no! Go back, get on the phone! Call for help!” Olivia shouted, staying down, hoping she was protected by the sofa—and the drugged bodies of the two agents with her.
Too late.
This time she heard the strange “zzzz” sound.
And she heard Sydney’s body hit the earth, a few feet from the door.
Down in front of the sofa, she groped at Sloan’s body until she found the holster at his side. She struggled to find the gun—and get it out without killing herself. She had no idea how to use it.
It was a gun, she told herself; you took the safety off, you pointed and fired.
But even as her fingers curled around it, she heard movement behind her.
“Come on out, Olivia. They’re all down. And I don’t want to hurt you. Not yet. We’re going for a little ride. Don’t you want to buy all the time you can? Come on, now, get up—slowly.”
Olivia’s fingers were curled around Sloan’s gun. She straightened her back, which was toward the killer. Not allowing any other part of her body to move, she slipped the gun into her fingers.
“No more cutesy little dart guns, Olivia. I have a Smith & Wesson trained on you now.”
Olivia stiffened, arching, trying to pretend she was giving up.
She managed to shove the gun under the waistband of her jeans. Then she rose slowly, just as she’d been ordered.
She was terrified. She was going to faint, her knees would give out.... Being afraid could make you smart; that was what Dustin had said.
She hoped the gun didn’t protrude from her belly—or that she wouldn’t shoot off the lower portion of her body.
A shot suddenly exploded over her head, and Olivia froze in shock.
“Just wanted you to know I have a real gun with real bullets.”
She turned to face the killer she should have known.
“Where are we riding to? And which horse am I taking? You nearly killed Shiloh.”
She was answered with a careless shrug. “I had to be sure you’d come here today. So...don’t worry. We have a number of horses to choose from. Let’s go.”
Dustin drove in the sheriff’s department car with Frank Vine and Jimmy Callahan.
Not one of his phone calls to the Horse Farm had been answered. Malachi and Abby were on their way and backup vehicles, including ambulances, were behind them.
“Explain this to me again,” Frank said to Callahan. “Damn you, Jimmy, why the hell didn’t you figure out what was going on?”
“How was I to know I was dating a maniac?” Callahan demanded. “Frank, we talked about family history. I thought it was really interesting that she could trace her history back so far, and I also suggested that maybe she should consider taking a job in Nashville when it was offered. She might have gotten one of those ghost tour shows—she might have gone really far. I had no idea that...that...whatever!”
They reached the Horse Farm; Dustin paid no heed to the arguing officers.
He saw the prone body of Sydney Roux in front of the house and rushed to him, crouching down to check for a pulse. It was faint. On the porch, he found Drew. He, too, was still alive.
As he rushed into the house, he saw that Jane was trying to help Sloan stagger to his feet.
“Dustin, they used the darts.... We were down.... Olivia... I think Olivia pulled the darts out of us,” Sloan said, and swore furiously.
“Whoever...came in from the back—none of the dogs barked,” Jane told him.
“Where is she? Where’s Olivia?”
“I don’t know. But the attack came from inside the house,” Sloan said. “And whoever it was took my gun...”
Dustin rushed out. Sloan and Jane came tearing after him, but as they arrived at the stables, Jane faltered.
Sloan stayed back to steady her. Dustin swung on both of them. “What’s the matter with you? You’re in no shape to be running around! Wait here—ambulances are on their way.” As he spoke, Malachi came driving in with Abby.
Frank left the stables and headed for Dustin, while Malachi and Abby ran to meet them.
“Two of the horses are gone,” Frank said breathlessly.
“Yeah, and we need to get going. Malachi, tell them—they’ve been hurt. They can’t come.”
Malachi pointed at Sloan and Jane. “You two—emergency attention,” Malachi said.
“Come on,” Dustin urged, “we’ve got to follow quickly. I can’t imagine what she’s planning for Olivia, but if she rode away with her, we’ve got a chance.”
Jimmy Callahan hurried to the stables. As Dustin followed, he heard movement in one of the stalls. He pulled his gun and whirled around.
It was Shiloh. The horse was back on its feet.
“Wait!” Malachi shouted.
Dustin turned to stare at him. “Look, we’re not talking about someone in her right mind here. And she’s just about gone over the edge while being in a desperate situation at the same time.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we have to be prepared to play mind games.”
“And do you have a suggestion?” Malachi demanded.
“I do,” Jimmy Callahan said, striding between them. “I do. Mariah is crazy about the history here—crazy about General Rufus Cunningham. She’ll say everyone sees him except her, but that
“Dammit, tell me what you’re talking about!” Dustin snapped.
“It’ll take another five minutes. Come with me. To Drew’s room. He’s involved with a reenactment group. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Dustin had no idea whether it was going to work or not; it might be his only chance. He was trying with all his might to think rationally, like an agent, and not like a man who felt he’d die if something happened to the woman he, yes, loved.
He looked at Malachi and remembered that he and Liv were cousins and that Malachi must be feeling as torn as he was.
“All right. I’ll do it. I’ve done a lot of reading on the general,” he said.
Five minutes later—as Jimmy had promised—he was ready.
Malachi and Abby were on their way out, while ambulances thronged the drive to the Horse Farm. Various deputies were mounted up and moving, and Chapparal had been saddled and bridled for him. He climbed on the horse and started to leave the stables.
“Whoa!” Malachi held up a hand. “Let’s divide the area into sections. We’ve got a lot of property to cover.”
Callahan was on Battle-ax. “The ravine?” he asked Dustin. “The ravine—where Marcus died?”
“Maybe. Frank, why don’t you take the ravine with some deputies. Malachi, you and Abby stay with me, but
