Krewe of Hunters: The Hidden Part 26

"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, a.s.suring 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 fiancee," 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 Ca.s.sandra 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 Ca.s.sandra 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.

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

"h.e.l.lo," Scarlet said.

Ca.s.sandra 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," Ca.s.sandra said, ghostly tears misting her eyes. "You know what happened to me, don't you?"

"We do, and we want to help," Scarlet a.s.sured her.

And then Daniel appeared out of nowhere, standing right by the kitchen table. He met Ca.s.sandra's eyes and said, "I'm Daniel."

"You're dead, too, aren't you?" Ca.s.sandra asked softly.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Did we ever meet?" Ca.s.sandra 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," Ca.s.sandra said.

Scarlet felt as if she'd walked into a bizarre case of speed dating. She cleared her throat. "Ca.s.sandra, 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."

Ca.s.sandra 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 pa.s.sed. 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 Ca.s.sandra, 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. Ca.s.sandra 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 Ca.s.sandra," 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 Ca.s.sandra 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," Ca.s.sandra said. "I remembered thinking, what the h.e.l.l? 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," Ca.s.sandra 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," Ca.s.sandra 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 seance?" Daniel asked.

"A seance?" Diego asked. "Daniel, you and Ca.s.sandra 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!"

Ca.s.sandra faded away in a flash.