The Night Is Forever Read Free Page B

it works. We’re usually called in when there’s a suspicion that a serial killer is at large or when a killer is crossing state lines.”
    “Agent Blake,” Jackson Crow began. “We move in on cases when we’re afraid the truth may never be known because of unusual circumstances. We don’t go barging in as a unit. We send one or two people and they assess the situation for us.”
    Dustin was surprised and, he had to admit, disappointed. This didn’t sound like a case that was worthy of the Krewe.
    The units had handled many truly unique cases. The sad demise of a man, even a black sheep who’d changed his own life and created a lifesaving enterprise—just didn’t sound like the kind of puzzle that desperately needed to be solved.
    He shook his head, baffled. “I need more than you’re giving me. Yes, I’m interested in working with a unit. As you’re well aware, a man can grow weary of finding excuses for knowing what he shouldn’t because he’s managed to have a conversation with someone who’s dead. And can I go in easily? Yes. The Horse Farm is about twenty miles outside the city, but I’d have to go in as myself because I do have friends in the area. But, God knows, that could be easy. Enough people in law enforcement crack—that’s a plausible reason. But I don’t understand how this even came to your attention.”
    “My cousin called me, Blake,” Malachi Gordon said. “She works at the Horse Farm and she’s convinced that Marcus Danby was murdered.”
    Great. Someone’s relative was upset.
    Still...
    It was an invitation to get a foot in the door with Jackson Crow and one of his Krewe units.
    But if he was stepping in just because someone’s relative couldn’t accept the harsh fact that even the strongest person sometimes failed...
    That wouldn’t bode so well.
    “Why?” he asked Malachi. “Why is your cousin convinced that Marcus Danby met with foul play?”
    “Because, Special Agent Blake, Marcus Danby told her that he was murdered.”
    * * *
    “I don’t get this horse-assisted therapy,” Joey Walters told Olivia as they walked around inside the pasture. “Unless,” he said, flashing her a belligerent glance, “it’s because our—” He hesitated a minute. She knew the word folks had been on his tongue. But he didn’t have folks anymore. “—our guardians think we’re as stupid as horses and that they’ll somehow fix us? The dumb leading the dumber?”
    Olivia lowered her head, smiling, before she looked back at Joey. “Whatever makes you think horses are stupid?” she asked. She was glad to be working. They’d all taken a few days off for Marcus’s funeral, but now they were back.
    And she was especially glad to be working because her mind kept racing in denial regarding the autopsy reports.
    “They’re not smart—they’ll eat themselves to death if you let them,” Joey muttered.
    “Horses have no hidden agenda,” she said. “They have their boundaries, just as we have ours. And for your information, Mr. Walters, horse therapy works well for those who tend to intellectualize everything. You can’t bully a horse. A horse can learn to trust you, but he or she requires you to be trustworthy, as well.”
    As if to emphasize her words, Trickster, the twenty-year-old mare she was using with Joey that afternoon, nudged him in the back.
    “Hey!” Joey said. But he turned and looked at Trickster. The mare snorted and shook her head, looking back at Joey.
    It was a simple exchange—very simple. But Olivia saw something in Joey’s expression and the smile that touched his face. He might be telling her it was all a bunch of bull, but he already cared about Trickster and it was only their second time out.
    “You weren’t paying attention to her,” Olivia said. “You brought her out here and then paid no attention to her. She wants to be noticed. She wants you to remember that you came to her.”
    “Technically, you brought her out here.”
    “Yes, but you