The Hidden

  “What? I walked. It’s barely a mile, and it’s all downhill.”

  “And how did you get back?”

  “A guy dropped me off at the turnaround about fifty yards down the drive,” Terry said. “Then I used my key and came in the front door as quietly as I could.”

  “You won’t mind giving us his name?” Adam asked.

  “Bennie Lipton. He’s staying at a place called the Snowdrop Inn,” Terry said.

  “Thanks,” Diego said.

  “Well, then, I suppose we should let everyone get back to sleep,” Adam said easily. “We’re very sorry for disturbing everyone, but we’re trying to solve a series of murders before anyone else gets killed, and that means time is of the essence.” He turned to Ben. “Would you mind coming with me to see that all the doors are locked?”

  “No problem,” Ben said, and the two of them headed down the stairs together.

  “I’m embarrassed to admit this,” Gwen said, “but I’m feeling very nervous. What if the killer decides to break in?”

  “We can take turns sitting up and keeping watch,” Meg told Matt cheerfully.

  “Are you sure?” Gwen asked. “Because I have to admit, I’ll feel a lot better if you do.”

  “I’m quite sure—as are we all,” Meg said.

  “Jane and I can take first shift,” Brett offered, turning to Matt. “Then you and Meg can take over.”

  “Scarlet and I will head over to her apartment,” Diego said. “We’ll see you all in the morning. Scarlet?” he said, turning to her.

  She smiled and raised a hand to the others. “Good night,” she said.

  “Curious,” Diego said as they walked to her place.

  “What is?” she asked.

  “That Terry and the Bartons were at the same not-that-big bar and didn’t see each other. Then again, I’ve been places and heard from friends the next day that they were there, too, and we never saw each other. If you’re not looking for someone, it’s easy to miss them.” He stopped walking and made a point of studying the outbuildings, the parking lot and the stables.

  “What about Angus?” he asked, looking at the stables. “What does he do when he’s not out on a ride?”

  “He eats up at the house sometimes, and I’ve had him over for sandwiches. But he has a little kitchenette in his apartment, so he goes in to town and shops periodically. He loves it up here on the mountain, though. Says he can tolerate people long enough for a trail ride, but he loves it when they leave. I like Angus. We’ve always gotten on well, maybe because we both love the horses. Why? No one saw him at the Twisted Antler, and a bar full of people and loud music is pretty much the last place I’d expect to find him.”

  “Maybe. But Angus is part and parcel of the Conway Ranch,” he said. “And I wonder what he sees from up there above the stables? I think it might be worth talking to him tomorrow morning to find out if he saw anyone coming or going last night. It’s odd, don’t you think, that Terry and the Bartons decided to sneak out the back door on the same night to go to the same place but never saw one another.”

  They headed to the museum. Diego keyed in the alarm code as soon as he opened the door, turning on the lights downstairs.

  The museum sat in silence; all was still.

  He took her hand, put his finger to his lips to caution her and they walked along the rows of display cases and past the many mannequins, checking out the entire museum.

  “You think someone is in here?” she whispered.

  “No. But I don’t like to think there’s no one, then find out there is.”

  Finally satisfied, he reset the alarm, then led the way upstairs.

  Once again, he wasn’t happy until he went room to room, assuring himself that they were alone.

  “It’s all good,” he told her at last.

  She looked at him and smiled, “Yes. Because you’re here.”

  She headed to the bedroom. He smiled slowly and followed.

  There were so many things they could say to one another, he thought, but maybe it was good that they didn’t. Maybe it was best just to hold tight to this time—and to each other.

  A flicker of unease stirred in him.

  The victims had all been Nathan Kendall’s descendants.

  Like Scarlet.

  He had to get her through this.

  Or talking about the future would be irrelevant.

  He followed her into the bedroom. She was already beneath the covers. He knew she was be naked, waiting.

  He carefully set his Glock on the bedside table within easy reach.

  And then he joined her.

  He was grateful for the feel of her.

  For the sound of her heartbeat, of her breathing.

  And the brush of her lips on his naked flesh.

  * * *

  Diego had gone into superprotective mode.

  He woke up first. Scarlet felt him rise, heard him walk through the upstairs, undoubtedly checking for anything suspicious, and then head down to the museum. She took a quick shower, feeling completely safe.

  She wasn’t sure what the Krewe had planned for the day, but she knew what she would like to do for part of it if time allowed, and that was head for a shooting range. She was capable with a gun, but Diego had been right: she’d never liked them. Too many people who were far too irresponsible owned them, which was a shame for those who were responsible. She’d understood why Ben kept his shotgun ready; they were on a mountaintop, and there were animals in the woods that could kill a person.

  And now...

  Now she had no intention of being vulnerable, a victim. She intended to be prepared, and if that meant becoming not just competent but adept with a gun, so be it.

  After ascertaining that the museum was empty, Diego came upstairs to find her showered, dressed and ready for the day. He looked as her with an odd smile for a moment—as if regretting that she hadn’t spent a little longer in the shower so the night, too, could last a little longer—but then he told her that everything was fine, so he was hopping in the shower himself.

  She told him she would get some coffee going.

  “Lara is coming in today—Brett’s fiancée,” he told her. “You and she have something in common. The ghosts in the zombie case picked her to talk to just like Daniel picked you.”

  “Why Lara? Why me?” she asked him. “I was never law enforcement, I never believed in ghosts. I never even played with Ouija boards when I was a kid. Why am I suddenly ghost central?”

  He grinned. “Daniel just likes you and wants you to be safe.” His smile faded, and he set his hands on her shoulders. “That’s basically it, Scarlet. The dead need our help. And we can certainly use theirs.”

  He left her to shower and dress, so she walked into the kitchen and started the coffee. Suddenly she became aware that something—someone—was in the room with her.

  She steeled herself before turning to look at the kitchen doorway.

  She knew the young woman who stood there, though she wouldn’t have remembered her name if she hadn’t been all over the TV.

  It was Cassandra Wells, and Scarlet did remember how bright and friendly and full of questions she’d been when she’d come to take the museum tour.

  Scarlet was grateful that Cassandra didn’t look the way she had the night before, a body soaked in blood with an exploded face.

  Instead she was in jeans and a sweater, hair held back from her face by a headband, features pale, almost fully substantial, though Scarlet could just see through to the hallway behind her.

  Scarlet was proud that she didn’t feel the slightest inclination to scream, to fall apart.

  Cassandra had chosen her, just as Daniel had, and she found herself feeling glad of that and hoping desperately that she could help.

/>   “Hello,” Scarlet said.

  Cassandra let out a little sigh of relief. “You can see me?”

  Her voice was weak, as if she was speaking from miles away.

  “Yes,” Scarlet said.

  “You know me?” the young woman asked.

  Scarlet nodded. “I remember when you came to the museum. You asked the best questions, and I could tell how interested you were in everything.”

  “I was,” Cassandra said, ghostly tears misting her eyes. “You know what happened to me, don’t you?”

  “We do, and we want to help,” Scarlet assured her.

  And then Daniel appeared out of nowhere, standing right by the kitchen table. He met Cassandra’s eyes and said, “I’m Daniel.”

  “You’re dead, too, aren’t you?” Cassandra asked softly.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Did we ever meet?” Cassandra asked him.

  He shook his head. “I know you from...watching.”

  She almost smiled. “Haunting, you mean?”

  “I guess.”

  Scarlet stared in amazement. They seemed to have forgotten that she existed.

  “If I’d known you were in danger, I would have found a way to save you,” he whispered.

  “Thank you,” Cassandra said.

  Scarlet felt as if she’d walked into a bizarre case of speed dating. She cleared her throat. “Cassandra, I’m sorry to interrupt, but time is of the essence here, and I’m hoping you can you help us. We need to know what happened the night you were killed. You were in the Twisted Antler. You talked to a man who’s staying here at the ranch, Terry Ballantree. You also talked to a woman. I need to know who else you saw,” she said. “I need to know who killed you.”

  Cassandra shook her head. “I should have stayed at the Twisted Antler,” she said quietly.

  “What happened?” Scarlet asked.

  “I listened to the music for a while, but I was tired and needed to get home. I was walking down the street, heading for the lot where I’d left my car. I heard a noise from an alley as I passed. I turned to look and saw a guy wearing a bag—like canvas or burlap or something—over his head. And that was it. He dragged me into the alley. There were still people around, but I never managed to scream.” She stopped speaking for a minute. “He threw me into a car and drove up the mountain, then dragged me into the woods and...and shot me. The gun—it’s as if I can still hear it ringing in my ears.” She paused again, laughed, and then cried. “I don’t have ears anymore, though, do I? I’m not real. I’m air, a figment of your imagination. I’m...I’m dead.”

  Scarlet felt the ridiculous temptation to put her arms around Cassandra, to hold her close and comfort her.

  She couldn’t, of course.

  But apparently Daniel could.

  For a moment Scarlet wasn’t sure where one ghostly image began and the other one ended. But she kept silent, her heart in her throat. Cassandra was sobbing. Daniel was soothing her.

  At that moment Diego came into the kitchen. He obviously saw the ghostly pair in the doorway, because he slipped carefully past them, just as if they were real.

  “I take it that’s Cassandra,” he said to Scarlet.

  “Yes, she’s here,” Daniel said. “What about the couple who were killed the first night I tried to warn Scarlet?”

  “The Parkers? What about them?” Diego asked him.

  “Have you seen them?” Daniel asked.

  “No,” Diego said. “No, they haven’t...returned.”

  Daniel looked questioningly at Scarlet, and she shook her head.

  “They might know more than Cassandra and I do,” Daniel said. “Larry Parker was sliced up just like Nathan Kendall was. And maybe they got a look at the killer’s face, not just his mask.”

  “The mask was simple but so creepy,” Cassandra said. “I remembered thinking, what the hell? It was just a bag with eye holes ripped out, but it was terrifying.”

  “Creepy or not, it makes it impossible for anyone to identify him,” Diego said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “Why don’t you try to find them?” Daniel asked.

  “Daniel, you know yourself—the two of you came to Scarlet,” Diego said. “We can’t search for them the way we do the living. We just have to hope they’ll come to us.”

  “Where are they? Their bodies, I mean,” Daniel asked Diego.

  He’d been about to take a sip of his coffee. The cup never made it to his lips. “The morgue,” he said quietly.

  “Where my body is,” Cassandra said.

  Daniel looked right at Scarlet. “You could go there and see if they—”

  “No,” Diego said quickly. “She doesn’t need to go to the morgue. You know yourself, there’s no good reason whatever for a spirit to hang out at the morgue. Candace and Larry won’t be there.”

  “They could be. I was there for a little while,” Cassandra said, and began to cry.

  Once again, Daniel stepped in to comfort her, taking her in his arms.

  Scarlet looked at Diego. She didn’t want to go to the morgue, but if it would help, she was willing.

  “What about a séance?” Daniel asked.

  “A séance?” Diego asked. “Daniel, you and Cassandra found Scarlet on your own. There was no mumbo jumbo involved, no candles and no ridiculousness.”

  “Said by a man to a pair of ghosts,” Daniel said, laughing.

  They heard the sound of a key in the lock, followed by the alarm beeping briefly downstairs. A moment later Brett called up to them, “Hey, guys, Lara’s here!”

  Cassandra faded away in a flash.

  Daniel followed her, albeit more slowly, his arm still around her, his expression bereft, as if he was losing her.

  Brett came up the stairs with Lara, a pretty five-foot-seven-inch blonde who clearly knew Diego well, judging by the warm hug she gave him the minute she entered the room. Then she stood back, anxious to meet Scarlet. They were introduced just as the rest of the Krewe came up the stairs.

  Lara Mayhew was warm and sincere, and obviously deeply in love with Brett. Scarlet could tell she made Brett happy.

  But as soon as the pleasantries were exchanged, Matt said to Scarlet and Diego, “What’s going on here? You two look as if you’ve been hit in the head with a brick.”

  “Our ghosts were here,” Diego said.

  “Ghosts—plural?” Meg asked.

  “Daniel and Cassandra Wells,” Scarlet said.

  “Ah,” Jane said quietly. “So it did mean something, you seeing her last night.”

  “Yup. Newly found ghost magnet here,” Scarlet said lightly. “Daniel suggested I should go to the morgue and try to talk to the Parkers.”

  “He also suggested a séance,” Diego said, as if Daniel had suggested that they all grow horns.

  “Have you ever been to a morgue?” Meg asked Scarlet.

  “No,” Scarlet said.

  “Spirits seldom linger there,” Matt said.

  “It’s an ugly place to be, with what’s left of your physical self lying on a stainless steel table,” Brett said.

  “But...a séance,” Diego said. “I mean, we’re above that, aren’t we?” he asked hopefully, then answered himself with a groan. “No, we’re not against anything that might work.”

  Jane said, “Intriguing idea, actually—a séance. Why not?”

  Diego looked over at her. “I assume you mean we should involve our suspects?”

  “Involve our suspects?” Scarlet asked.

  “Invite them to join us, see how they react,” Diego told her.

  “I don’t think you’ll ever get Angus to a séance,” Scarlet said flatly.

  “Probably not. But Angus wasn’t at the Twisted Antler and he didn??
?t discover any of the bodies, so I think we can back-burner him as a suspect,” Adam said. “I actually think that’s not a bad idea. We’ll arrange it for tonight. I’ll speak with Ben and Trisha.”

  “What if they refuse?” Scarlet asked. “And even if they agree, this will be one unwieldy séance. There are eight of us, then Ben and Trisha, Terry, Linda and Gwen and Charles. And what about the Levins? That’s a party, not a séance.”

  “Meg and I were planning on following the Parkers’ trail tonight,” Matt said. “Take the highway in from Denver and stop at the places where they might have stopped, see if anyone remembers seeing them or seeing anyone or anything strange. I know their pictures have been out in the media, but sometimes you get better results with the personal touch.”

  “We’re also going to try to figure out where the killer might have stashed their car,” Meg said.

  “And since Angus won’t be coming, someone needs to keep an eye on the stables,” Brett said. “Lara and I will stay here and keep an eye on the museum at the same time. And the back door to the main house,” he added irritably.

  “Well, Adam and I will be here,” Jane said, smiling. “I know how to conduct a séance. Not that I think it matters whether we’re séance experts or not, because if something is going to happen, it’s going to involve Scarlet.”

  “Do you really believe we can convince the dead to come talk to us?”

  “Who knows,” Jane said. “But whatever happens, it will be interesting to see how the others react, don’t you think?”

  “If the killer’s really one of them and he believes the dead are about to literally unmask him, things could become dangerous.”

  Jane looked at Scarlet. “Séance or morgue? Your call.”

  Scarlet was quiet for a long moment. She didn’t like either option. “Let’s start with a séance,” she said at last.

  “Great,” Diego said. “So now, all we have to do is wait for darkness to fall, the moon to rise and the candles to flicker. I can’t believe that’s how we’re trying to solve this case,” he said. “But who knows? Maybe our ghosts will arrive and our killer will believe.”

  14

  As Scarlet had suspected he would, Angus opted out of taking part in the séance.