Krewe of Hunters: The Hidden Part 7

She still thought the world of Brett. He had been a good friend to both of them during the divorce, even helping her pack up when it had been time to leave.

But she'd never heard of the other agents or this "special" unit Diego and Brett had joined. She still didn't know anything, if it came to that.

Didn't matter. It had to be one h.e.l.l of a unit if they'd gotten here in less than twenty-four hours simply because she'd asked her ex-husband for help.

She'd heard-the whole country had heard-about the Miami zombie case, and she'd known that Diego and Brett had been a.s.signed to it. She had to a.s.sume that Matt and Meg had worked it, too, and that it was somehow connected to whatever made their special unit, well, special. She'd thought several times about calling Diego, just to see how he was weathering the stress. The pressure on law enforcement must have been terrible. She knew how he took his cases-or, really, the people who were part of them-to heart. The temptation to pick up the phone had been almost overwhelming at times.

But then she'd reminded herself that maybe he'd moved on. Maybe he had a girlfriend. Diego was a natural flirt. He simply liked people in general, despite what he did for a living and the kinds of people he so frequently had to deal with. Women, especially, naturally liked him. It was those dark good looks and killer smile. They couldn't help themselves.

He had never betrayed her during their two years together, but they weren't married anymore. She hadn't just left him, she'd left the state.

He'd had the right to move on.

The thought that he might well have done so disturbed her more than she wanted to admit, and that, as much as anything else, had kept her from making the call. Being so far away, cradled by the mountains, had acted like a buffer zone. It was almost as if she was looking back at a story about two other people.

But after Brett, Matt and Meg had left for the police station, and Ben and Trisha had headed back to the main house to check on their five remaining guests, Scarlet discovered that she suddenly felt incredibly awkward with the man she had once known better than anyone else in the world.

Admittedly, she'd been drawn to Diego at the outset because of the way he looked. He was tall and fit, and there was something of the aristocrat about his features, as if he was descended from a line of Spanish kings. She could see him wearing a conquistador's helmet and posing for a gold coin.

He was also charming, and quick to make her laugh. They were opposites in many ways. He was daring and quick to make friends, to dive into a situation or experience. She had been decidedly shy, at least at first, always wanting to know what made things tick. At first it had been great. He had taught her to be spontaneous, as daring as he was. She had taught him to look beneath the surface of things. They'd both learned about compromise.

She had believed then and still did that the reason they'd stopped talking was that they were trying to be considerate of each other, to avoid upsetting each other. She'd told him that she didn't need an explanation when he needed to work all hours. And she didn't. But maybe that had made him think she didn't care about his job, so he tried too hard not to bring work home.

And then she'd lost the baby. A baby he hadn't even known existed.

She knew this was not the time to a.n.a.lyze where and why they'd gone wrong, or why she had felt the irresistible need to flee from their marriage and from him, to ask for the divorce.

And still he was there for her the minute she called.

Now the others were gone and it was just the two of them. He wanted to hear everything from her point of view, starting with the pictures that had mysteriously appeared on her camera and then going on to cover her experience at the police station and anything else that might be relevant. So now they were up in the apartment, at the little table in the kitchen. She'd brewed more coffee and was sitting opposite him, much as she'd sat opposite Lieutenant Gray the night before. She kept noticing his hands. His fingers were long, his nails clipped and clean. She'd always loved his hands; they looked like a pianist's hands. Actually, he did play, but only for pleasure. He claimed he was awful, but in fact he was anything but.

She looked away, avoiding his eyes. She'd been anxious to be alone with him so she could tell him about the mannequin. But now that the moment was here, she was afraid he was going to think she was an idiot. He dealt with true evil every day. How was she going to explain her terror of a mannequin in a way that didn't sound ridiculous?

Then again, how the h.e.l.l had the d.a.m.ned thing wound up at the foot of her bed?

Apparently he could still read her better than anyone else could, because he immediately asked, "What is it? Please, Scarlet, two people have been murdered. Tell me what you didn't want to say in front of everyone else."

She couldn't say it. Too silly. Or maybe not. There was still the possibility that someone made of flesh and blood, and in possession of a key, had moved it to terrify her.

"A mannequin moved," she blurted out.

She'd expected skepticism-perhaps polite, nearly hidden skepticism, but skepticism nevertheless.

"Okay, I saw a bunch of mannequins down in the museum," he said. "But which one, and how did it move?"

She let out a long breath. "Nathan Kendall-and he's not downstairs. He's in my living room about fifteen feet away from us. Yesterday he fell over on his own." She hesitated, then went on. "And when I woke up this morning, he was standing at the foot of my bed."

To her amazement, he didn't look at her with sympathy, as if the thin mountain air was affecting her brain.

He simply asked, "Who has keys to this place, Scarlet? The first thing, always, is to look for the simplest and most likely possibility."

"To the best of my knowledge, only Ben, Trisha and myself. And I just can't believe that either one of them would try to scare me that way." She met his eyes as if begging him to understand. "Diego, I was never afraid to be here. I loved this place from the moment I arrived. But I swear to you, I'm not crazy. The statue was on its pedestal at the bottom of the stairs when I went to bed after we finally got back from the police station. Ben and Trisha went with me to make sure the museum and the apartment were safe. I went back down with them and locked the door once they left. I woke up in the middle of the night, but I had a cup of tea and went back to bed. I'd had the feeling the whole time that I was being watched, though. When I woke up in the morning, Nathan Kendall was standing at the foot of my bed. Do you think someone got in and put him there without me hearing a thing?"

"First, thank G.o.d you're all right. And second, maybe. That's certainly the logical explanation, and we always look for the logical explanation first."

"I don't know which is scarier-the concept that a mannequin moved on its own, or that someone was in here and put it at the foot of my bed to scare me to death. You know me, Diego-I don't get spooked easily. I've studied mummies and excavated grave sites-you name it. But that mannequin...and those pictures... Ben and I both saw them, but I have no idea how they got there and no idea how they disappeared."

"The cops have the camera now, right?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "Maybe we'll be able to get our hands on it. I mean, I'm sure the cops here are great, but the Bureau has the best techs in the world, and from what I hear, the unit can get anything expedited."

"From what you hear?"

"They asked Brett to join and annexed me to the invitation. I just accepted yesterday. After you called."

"After I called? So you accepted because of me?" she asked.

"I wasn't sure I wanted to, but when you called..." he said.

"Oh, Diego, I didn't mean to ruin your life. I was just so scared when the cops brought me in that I didn't know what to do except call you."

"You hardly ruined my life, it's an elite unit. And I was already on the verge of joining-this just helped me make the decision. I wasn't sure about leaving Miami, but I figured what the h.e.l.l, I'm not tied down in any way anymore, so it doesn't really matter where I'm a.s.signed so long as I like what I'm doing."

She couldn't meet his eyes or he would be bound to read her relief at hearing he wasn't seeing anyone seriously enough to want to stick around, so she just stared at her cup. All she said was, "But you love Miami."

"No, Scarlet, I'm not in love with a place. Love is something you reserve for people."

He rose, heading toward the living room. She flinched inwardly, then stood a moment later and followed him.

When she caught up to him, he was examining the statue of Nathan Kendall.

"Heavy, isn't it? Whoever carved this did an amazing job. The artist caught real character in his face. He looks like a man who's been through h.e.l.l but come out with his soul intact," Diego said.

"It's a good likeness. I'm hoping to find out who the artist was." She looked hard at the mannequin herself.

It was wood, just painted wood carved into the likeness of a man and dressed in period clothing.

It suddenly occurred to her that someone could steal those clothes and wear them, and she shuddered.

"Okay, I don't want to scare you, because in the end this may have nothing to do with the ranch, but tell me about the people here," Diego said.

"Well, you met Ben and Trisha."

"The only other people who, as far as you know, have keys to the museum."

"I can't believe either of them would do this. I've actually known them for years. I met them right after college, when I was working at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Before I knew you, in fact. I trust them completely."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't. It's easy to get hold of a key and copy it. Who else works here?"

"Angus Fillmore runs the stable. You'd know him if you saw him. Old guy, looks like something out of an old Western movie."

"I think I saw him," Diego said. "Who else?"

"The head housekeeper, Linda Reagan. She's around thirty, I think, and beyond competent. She hires seasonal help when the place is busy, the rest of the time-like now-she and Ben and Trisha handle the cleanup and the meals. Ben and Trisha have a private suite on the second floor, and Linda has a small apartment in the attic. Angus lives over the stables. He leads most of the trail rides, though Ben loves to take out the late-afternoon ride himself, and there are a few locals who help out as needed."

"Guests here last night?" Diego asked.

"A flock who fled immediately, though not before the police talked to them. There are five who stayed. Terry Ballantree's a young guy, here on his own. He's excited because he's a descendant of Nathan Kendall, just like Ben and me. There are also two couples still here. Charles and Gwen Barton are newlyweds from Mississippi, and Gigi and Clark Levin are from Texas. They're retirees, and they come for two months at the end of summer, beginning of fall, every year."

Diego nodded. "I'd like to meet all of them." He paused, studying her. "What else?"

"What do you mean, what else?"

"There's something you haven't told me yet," he said. "I know you."

She shook her head, lowering her eyes. "There is one thing, but I can't see how it means anything. There was a strange guy who stopped me when I was in town and told me to be careful, that I was one of 'them' and also one of 'us.'"

"What did he look like?"

"Maybe thirty-five. Dressed like a cowboy."

"Are you sure he wasn't just trying to pick you up? You're a beautiful woman, you know."

Coming from someone else, it would have been a compliment. From Diego right now, it was a professional observation, but it was still nice to hear, and she smiled. "Thanks. But I don't think so. I actually know pick-up lines when I hear them, and that wasn't one. He was probably just some drunk rambling on about who knows what. Although I ought to thank him, because he's part of why Lieutenant Gray decided to let me go. They found a witness who saw me talking to him. Well, they saw me talking anyway. Their view must have been blocked, because they didn't see him. Anyway, after I got away from him I went to hear a friend's band, and he walked me to my car later."

"I'm glad he made sure you were safe," Diego said.

She would have liked it better if he'd sounded at least a little bit jealous.

It was her own fault that he wasn't, of course. She had left him, and he had moved on.

Why hadn't she?

"I wasn't really worried at that point. The guy didn't seem scary, just weird, and I didn't know then that anyone had been killed." She paused. "But actually," she said, frowning, "when Eddie walked me to my car, I forgot about this earlier, but I felt as if I was being watched then, too. But not by the guy from earlier. By someone...different. Someone evil. That sounds crazy, doesn't it? It was probably nothing, just my nerves being on edge because of the freaky thing with the photos. Then I got here and found out..." She stared him straight in the eyes. "Diego, how could those pictures have been on the camera?"

"How closely did you look at them?"

"Not very. I was too stunned. They were b.l.o.o.d.y, though. I remember that much."

"And you never saw the murdered couple?"

"No. Only Ben saw them. And the police, of course."

"I need to get my hands on that camera," Diego said, "but for now, I'd like to meet everyone else here. Want to start at the stables?"

"Sure."

It was noon; rides were scheduled for ten in the morning, and three and five in the afternoon. Every once in a while they planned a special night ride, but only for experienced riders.

Angus Fillmore was alone at the stables, sitting on a bale of hay and enjoying a sandwich. He liked Scarlet, and she was glad, because she loved the horses and liked spending time around them when she could.

"Angus, hey, I wanted you to meet my-a friend. Diego McCullough."

"Well, howdy," Angus said. He didn't rise, but he did try to wipe the grease off his hand before he offered it to Diego.

"How are you doing?" Diego asked him.

Angus shook his head. "b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! Coming up here to kill people. I'm p.i.s.sed off, is how I feel." Then, as if realizing he should say something about the victims, he added, "Sorry, too, of course. Sorry as h.e.l.l for that couple, whoever they were."

"Anyone riding today?" Scarlet asked him.

Angus shook his head. "Nope. Ben made me cancel. Guess he wants to wait 'til they've got the crime-scene tape off the place. I hope to h.e.l.l they catch the b.a.s.t.a.r.d quick." He frowned, looking at Diego curiously. "Saw you arrive this morning with some official-looking people. You the law?"

"In a way," Diego told him. "We're FBI."

"FBI?" Angus said, surprised. "They're bringing in the big guns."

"They didn't bring us in. Not yet. We're here to support a friend," Diego said.

Angus looked at Scarlet, shaking his head. "Heard they took you in for questioning. Idiots."

That was one of the things she liked about Angus, she thought. He had strong opinions and wasn't at all opposed to voicing them.

"I'm pretty sure they figured that out," Diego said.

"Well, glad you're here. Maybe you'll catch who did it. Animals, they only kill to survive. Human beings, they kill because they're sick mothers. Anyway, good to meet you, and good to have you here. You ride?"

"I wouldn't want to get on a bull, but I'm okay on horseback," Diego told him.

Angus nodded, as if that was important. "Can't trust a man who won't ride a horse," he said. "Can't always trust the ones who do, but definitely can't trust the ones who won't."

"Good logic," Diego said with a smile. "We'll see you later, and somewhere along the line, I'd love to go riding."

"Good man-we'll do it." Angus said. "And I'll do the guiding. Ben's a great guy, but he doesn't know the trails like I do. Born and raised in these parts. I can show you what needs to be seen."

Diego thanked him, Scarlet waved, and they headed for the main house.

"What are those two buildings over there?" Diego asked as they walked, pointing.

"That's the smokehouse," she said. "It was left as is, but you could still smoke something there if you wanted to. The bunkhouse is set up so they can handle more guests than the main house can hold."

"Was it occupied last night?"

"I don't think so. You'd have to ask Ben or Trisha."

"I'll do that," he told her. "So, let's go meet the housekeeper and the remaining guests."