“Angus, you don’t think it’s strange that someone who stopped me in the street and said some very weird things just happens to be up here now?” Scarlet asked.
“I think people come to the mountains because they like nature—and being left alone,” Angus said.
“Then he should have left me alone,” Scarlet said.
Diego, Matt and Brett were gone for a long time, but when they came back they announced that they hadn’t found the man or any sign of where he’d gone.
“Wonder where he went,” Meg said.
“One trail up, one trail down,” Angus said. “Couldn’t’a gone anywhere else.”
“I saw him,” Scarlet said firmly.
“Well, he’s gone now,” Diego said, studying her. “Midthirties, you said, right?”
“Midthirties, maybe six feet, not fat and not thin, sandy-blond hair,” Scarlet said.
Everyone except Angus looked at her strangely.
She wondered what was wrong with them. Did they think she was so stressed she was seeing things?
“Is there something I don’t know?” she asked.
Meg shook her head. “No. Whoever was here, he’s gone now. I guess we’ve seen everything there is to see here, so it’s probably time to go back.”
Diego put his arm around Scarlet’s shoulders and started walking toward where the horses were tethered. She felt uneasy again. Was he being protective—or pitying?
The others had gotten ahead of them when he stopped walking suddenly. “That’s a strange plaque—very modern.”
The flat bronze plaque had been set in front of a relatively new wooden cross.
“Rollo Conway,” he said. “So the guy who sold the land to Nathan Kendall is buried here, too?”
“Yes. He died years after Nathan and Jillian,” Scarlet said. “But Jillian’s dad—who lived to ninetysomething—allowed him to be buried here. I think this was pretty much the local cemetery back then, even though it was on ranch land. It was an old Native American burial site back before anyone owned land here. The site is actually on the national historic register. It will always be protected, no matter who owns the property.”
“Anyone else buried here we should know about?” he asked her.
“Not that I’m aware of,” she said. “Thing is, the old records aren’t always complete. And up here, the ground shifts, markers rot away in the elements, people are reburied elsewhere.” She smiled. “Unless we start digging people up and, I don’t know, DNA-testing them, we can only do the best we can with the records available to us.”
“What about Jillian’s father? The United States marshal?” Diego asked. “Where was he buried.”
She pointed across the cemetery to one of the decaying mausoleums. “He was entombed, not buried.”
“And Zachary Kendall?”
“He moved to Los Angeles in his later years and is buried there,” Scarlet said. “When the marshal had the mausoleum built, he probably assumed Zachary and at least some of the children would share it with him. But life—and death—don’t always work out as planned.”
“Apparently not,” Diego said.
“Come on, let’s head back.”
She followed him but stopped again before they reached the horses. “Diego, do you really believe me?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t even know what I’m asking you to believe me about.”
“You never lied to me, so if you’ve said something, I believe you.” He gave her an odd smile, almost wistful.
She looked away. His smile also reminded her of the previous night. It really had been spectacular.
It had taken her away from everything that was going on.
Now it was still daylight and she should have felt safe, but she kept thinking about the man she’d seen leaning against the tree.
She didn’t know why he made her feel so uneasy. The other night he’d mostly seemed obnoxious, even if a little bit weird.
Now, seeing him again way up here in the middle of nowhere, she found him downright creepy.
“I was talking about the fact that I really did see someone just now,” she said. “But it’s not just seeing that man again, it’s the mannequin moving, the pictures on my camera. Am I crazy, or do you really believe me?”
He looked at her and nodded solemnly. “Every word,” he assured her. “And so does every member of the Krewe.”
“They’re very trusting, for FBI,” she said.
“They’re very different for FBI,” he said. “Come on, let’s get going. Time to get back down the mountain so we can get back to the ranch before dark.”
The late-afternoon sun seemed to dim even as he spoke. Scarlet looked up; the majestic blue of the sky had changed to mauve.
The sun slipped behind a cloud, turning its light an orange hue that darkened to an eerie crimson.
Yes, darkness was coming.
The strange red glow settled over the graveyard, the mausoleums and tombstones and simple wooden crosses, filling her with a sense of foreboding.
She wanted to throw herself against Diego and stay there in his arms forever, safe from the darkness.
The breeze lifted, the sun shifted, and she suddenly knew that she couldn’t run away from the dark, she had to face it.
She walked past him toward the horses. He was a bastion of towering strength.
But better than that, he allowed her to find her own.
8
“I love Teddy Bear,” Diego heard Meg say to Scarlet as they joined the others. “She’s a great horse.”
“She’s a sweetheart,” Scarlet agreed.
Diego turned away and walked back toward the graveyard, intrigued by the grand mausoleum Jillian Kendall’s father had commissioned for himself. He stared at the tomb, and then back toward the bushes and forest area. He saw nothing, but he did notice the day had suddenly started to darken.
Colorado days were brilliant and beautiful. Nights could fall swiftly.
If someone had been lurking, that someone had disappeared.
Matt strode over and joined him. “I can’t wait for Jane to get here tonight. If she’s up for it, we can take her straight to the morgue so she can start creating a face for our John Doe. Even if he’s not related to our case, maybe we can help solve another mystery.”
“Sounds good,” Diego said. “I can’t help thinking that his death is related, though I could be way off base.”
“If nothing else, it will be good if we can at least give the dead man a name,” Matt said.
Diego was still staring at the mausoleum.
“You seeing something I’m not?” Matt asked him.
Diego turned to look at him. “Just an odd sensation. Like someone else is here. Think I’m sensing a ghost?”
“Maybe,” Matt said. “The dead can speak volumes—when we let them.”
Diego nodded and then shook his head slowly. “Well, if the marshal’s here, he’s not saying anything. Not to me, at least,” he said. “Interesting man, though, from what we’ve learned. Maybe he wasn’t the bad guy we’ve heard. Maybe he was just worried about his daughter. Nathan was a retired bank robber who was involved in a murder, after all.”
“True, but a lot of men took a temporary wrong turn after the war, and the West tended to be pretty forgiving of such things,” Matt said.
“Maybe, but someone sure hated Nathan, judging by the way that he was killed. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to figure out the truth,” Diego said. “And I wonder if that truth is important to our current case.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. The case is lousy with people who’ve turned out to be descendants of Nathan Kendall. I wonder. Maybe everything goes back to something Kendall did—something that got him murdered and someo
ne still wants revenge for today? There are a lot of possibilities, if that’s the case.” Matt was quiet for a moment. “I hate to say this, but I do think it involves Scarlet.”
Diego’s muscles tighten with a tension he couldn’t dismiss. Thing was...
He agreed.
He looked around the graveyard again and asked Matt, “Did you see anything here? Feel anything? You’re the old hand.”
Matt laughed. “Not that old. You, Brett and I have all been with the Bureau for a long time, but not even I have been with the Krewe that long. But while I’m open to finding whatever else might be out there, I believe that our killer is flesh and blood. And someone right here in the area, close to us—and to Scarlet.”
“Very close. We can’t leave her alone for a minute, Matt. Not for a minute.”
“We won’t,” Matt assured him.
“Never,” Diego insisted.
No, we’ll never leave her alone. So even if you bloody dead bastards want to reach her, you’ll have to come through me.
* * *
Blaze whinnied when Scarlet approached him, which made her happy.
At least the horse really trusted her and seemed to like her.
But Diego had seemed sincere when he’d said the Krewe believed in her.
When they returned to the ranch they helped Angus remove saddles and brush down the horses for the night. Angus kept shaking his head, saying he appreciated the help, he just hoped he wasn’t being helped out of a job.
Scarlet laughed and assured him that couldn’t happen.
When they’d finished and were walking back toward the museum, Meg suddenly paused and looked across the valley to the hill where The Stanley Hotel sat. “I’d love to see The Stanley while I’m here,” she said. “I loved The Shining.”
“You should take one of the tours,” Scarlet said. “They talk all about the hotel’s history as well as its ghosts and literary fame.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Brett said quietly, “but does anyone know why everybody would be standing on the porch staring at us?”
Scarlet looked over to the main house. Brett was right. Ben and Trisha, the Levins and Bartons, Terry, even Linda and Adam, were sitting there and staring. She’d noticed that morning that Adam was a great listener, and she was suddenly very curious to know what he’d found out while she and the others had been up at the cemetery.
She knew that at least some of the Krewe members believed that the killer was someone here at the ranch.
Terry waved enthusiastically. “Join us!” he called. “This may not be the South, but Trisha has whipped us up some amazing mint juleps.”
“Not bad for a New Yorker, if I do say so myself,” Trisha said cheerfully.
Diego laughed, walking toward the porch. “If I didn’t hate mint I’d have one in a heartbeat, but I’m happy to join you anyway. How is everyone?” he asked.
“Tense, nervous,” Linda said flatly.
“Speak for yourself,” Terry said. “I’m not going to let some brutal jerk—who you people are going to catch any minute now—win by ruining my vacation. I’m breathing in my heritage. And,” he added, “I’m trying to talk these guys into enjoying life with me. I’m taking a tour at The Stanley tonight, and I’m hoping to get them to come along.”
“We were just talking about The Stanley,” Meg said.
“Sit and tell us,” Ben offered as he stood.
Diego shook his head. “That’s okay. We’ve got to go clean up.”
“You look fine to me,” Linda assured him with a grin.
Diego grinned at her. “Well, thanks, ma’am. But trust me, I can smell me, and I smell like a horse. Not a bad thing if you are a horse, but...”
“Want to go to The Stanley tonight?” Terry asked.
“I have to meet a friend,” Diego said. “Brett and Matt will be with me, but I’m sure Meg and Scarlet would love to go.”
Scarlet looked over at him. There was a killer on the loose, and he thought she should go sightseeing? With one of the sort-of suspects? Even if she had Meg with her, it didn’t sound like a great idea to her. And who was the friend he was meeting? Maybe the FBI artist Matt had mentioned?
“Adam, you know The Stanley, right?” Diego asked.
Adam nodded. “I was a guest there years ago. It’s been changed since King made it famous, though.”
“Wasn’t the movie filmed there?” Terry asked.
“No, that was Oregon’s Timberline Lodge,” Adam said.
“I think we should go,” Meg said to Scarlet. “It’s a perfect opportunity.”
“Okay,” Scarlet murmured, giving in to the inevitable.
“Great!” Terry said.
“I suppose if we made a thing of it,” Gwen said, “it would almost be like a party.”
“We might be in,” Gigi said. “We’ve been there before, of course, since we come up here every year. It would be fun to go with the rest of you, though. I mean, come on, we can’t all sit around here morosely day after day.”
“You’ll definitely have fun if you come with us,” Terry said.
“You’ll have to count me out, I’m afraid,” Clark said. “My back is acting up on me.”
“In that case, I’ll stay here, too,” Gigi said. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Charles and I will go,” Gwen said decisively.
“Sure. Why not,” Charles agreed.
“And I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Adam said.
“Scarlet, why don’t you see if you can make tour reservations there for tonight?” Diego said. “I’m sorry Matt and Brett and I won’t be able to join you.”
“What about you, Linda? Would you like to come with us?” Terry asked.
“God, no,” Linda told him. “I’m as weary of the history of this area as it’s possible to be. You’ll all have much more fun without me.” She waved and walked into the house.
“She does have attitude,” Ben said to Trisha, but he was smiling.
“That’s why we keep her, sweetheart,” Trisha said, matching his smile.
“So...six of us?” Scarlet asked. “Don’t get your hopes up—the ghost tours sell out fast.” She headed inside.
When she returned a few minutes later she was smiling. “We lucked out. They had a cancellation. Let’s be ready to leave in an hour, okay? It’s only a short drive over, but the views are gorgeous, and you may all want to enjoy the lobby before we head down to the basement to start the tour.”
“I’ll head right up to get ready,” Meg said.
She and Matt headed inside, and Brett waved a goodbye and started toward the museum.
Diego walked over to Scarlet. “You need to get changed, too. Come on.”
As he led her away, she studied him curiously.
“What?” he asked.
“With everything that’s going on, do you really think we should be sightseeing?” she asked.
“Sightseeing is exactly what you should be doing.”
“I’ve seen the sights.”
“Yes, but not with this mix of people. And it’s intriguing to see who’s going and who’s staying.”
“And why aren’t you going?”
“I have to see a man about a horse,” he said.
“Right.” Her skepticism was plain.
“I have to see a woman about a face.”
“What?”
“That artist who’s also a Krewe member is flying in tonight,” Diego explained. “If she can help us ID the remains found up on the mountain it could help.”
“That’s how you’re investigating? By trying to identify a dead man who might not have anything to do with the murders? You’re not going to grill a lot of people—the way the police grilled me?”
“I need to have a reason to grill them. You were taken in because of those pictures on your camera. We don’t have a reason to prioritize anyone over everybody else. But we will. Sooner or later the killer will make a mistake.”
“What if the killer is long gone?” she asked.
He shook his head. He was serious, the light gone from his dark eyes as he looked at her. “Stay close to Meg. She’s a crack shot, and she’ll be armed. Adam will look out for you, too, but he leaves the action to the Krewe. Be careful and listen closely. You just don’t know what insight you might gain tonight. Or what ghosts might speak,” he said lightly.
When they reached the door, Brett opened it for them. “Nice to come home and feel certain no one else is here,” he said lightly.
Scarlet had never so much as thought about it before all this started. Now she was grateful as hell to have the alarm system.
“Yes, it definitely is,” she said.
And yet, she realized, she’d looked immediately at the statue of Nathan Kendall and her muscles tensed, as if she was certain he might have moved again.
He hadn’t.
She relaxed, then felt silly for worrying in the first place.
“Let’s get moving,” Diego said huskily. “An hour passes quickly.”
He looked at Brett, who looked back at him and nodded, and somehow she read the message that passed between them. Brett would stay in the apartment tonight, while everyone else was off doing things.
A sentinel.
“Have fun tonight,” Brett said. He smiled, turned and headed for his bedroom at the end of the hallway.
Scarlet followed Diego into her room.
And she quickly learned why he’d wanted her to be aware that an hour passed quickly.
* * *
Jane Everett was a beautiful dark-haired woman in a business suit. Diego and Matt picked her up at the Denver airport at seven.
She greeted Matt with a hug and told Diego she was delighted to have another Krewe member. “So, are we heading straight to the remains?” she asked.
“If you don’t mind,” Diego said.
“Wait ’til you see what Jane is able to do,” Matt told him. “You’ll be amazed.”