The Hidden (18 page)

“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

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

His exact words were more definitive. “No. No how, no way, not now, not ever, and you must be kidding.”

Scarlet, accompanied by Jane, had gone down to the stables to talk to him. She told him it was fine if he chose not to join them—they were just trying to see who might be interested. But despite that reassurance, the mere suggestion of a séance set him off.

“You want a séance?” he asked. “Oooooh, spooky. Why not do some really weird shit? Let’s ride up to the cemetery at midnight so we can perform a Native American ritual and wake up
all
the spirits?”

Angus stared suspiciously at Jane, as if he held her personally responsible for all this, since she was the newest arrival.

Jane refused to be offended. “Maybe we’ll do that, too,” she told him cheerfully.

Scarlet watched Angus’s reaction with amusement. He was an old grouch, but even he wasn’t immune to Jane’s charm. “We’re just trying anything we can think of, Angus, because these murders are so awful and we need all the help we can get. It’s fine if you don’t want to be part of the séance, but will you be around tonight? In case we need you?”

“For what? You think the horses are going to start speaking in tongues?” Angus asked.

Jane smiled. “Not that, but you never know with horses. You know yourself—they’re intuitive. If something bad is going on, they’ll sense it and react But no, that’s not what Scarlet meant. It’s just that you’re smart, strong, and you know this ranch better than anyone. If anything is off, you’ll notice, and it would be good to know you’re out here, just in case there
is
any trouble.
Human
trouble. There’s still a murderer out there, and we can’t let ourselves forget that.”

Angus looked at her curiously, but seemed pleased by the compliment.

“I’m usually around anyway, but I’ll make sure I’m here tonight. I’ll keep an eye out for anything that looks wrong.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “But a séance? Balls! I’m sorry, and I get that you have to try everything, but...balls.”

They thanked him for his willingness to watch for trouble, then headed back toward the house.

“I told you that would be his reaction,” Scarlet said.

Jane nodded. “That’s all right. At least we know he’ll hang around in case the killer makes a move or something.”

Inside, everyone from the main house—except Matt and Meg, who were already on the road—was just finishing up breakfast, the giant moose head seeming to look down at them as if it agreed with Angus about the idea of a séance, which they were animatedly discussing.

“We’ll do it. We’ll do anything you want,” Ben said. “I have to admit, I think it’s silly. But if you guys think it’ll help, Trish and I are in. Aren’t we, honey?” he said, turning to her.

She put her hand on his arm and nodded.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not in,” Linda said, smoothing back her hair before pouring coffee for Jane and Scarlet. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s absurd. On the other hand,” she added with a smile, “I will admit I don’t want to miss the fun. So I’ll stand guard and make sure the candles don’t set the house on fire.”

“So long as you’re quiet and don’t interfere, that will be fine,” Jane said.

“I’m definitely in,” Terry said with his usual enthusiasm. “To be honest, I think it will be fascinating.”

Scarlet was surprised when Clark Levin spoke up next, seemingly intrigued. “A séance? That could be interesting. At the very least, it will be amusing.”

“Amusing, Clark?” Gigi asked, batting him on the arm. “It’s ridiculous—and in extremely poor taste.”

“It’s never in poor taste to try to find a killer,” Jane said.

“I’ll sit at the table, if that’s what required, and if Clark thinks that we should. However, I still feel that it’s in poor taste, as if we’re mocking the dead.”

“I agree with Jane. There’s nothing disrespectful about trying to help,” Gwen said. “I think it’s exciting.”

Gigi made a tsking sound, glaring at Gwen, it was as if she believed all the evils in the world came from a younger generation that could be excited by such a prospect.

“How did you find a medium on such short notice?” Charles asked.

“It wasn’t a problem,” Jane said. “I’m the medium.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “I thought you were an artist?”

“An artist, an FBI agent—and a medium,” Jane said. “I really know how to multitask.”

“So what do I need to do?” Trisha asked Jane.

Jane smiled and shook her head. “Nothing. We’ll plan for about eight o’clock tonight, then.”

“Something to look forward to,” Gwen said with enthusiasm.

“I have some email to catch up on,” Adam said. “And some work to do, but I’ll be around, if anyone needs me. And I’ll definitely see you all tonight.”

“And I’ve got reading to finish back at the museum,” Scarlet said.

“I’ll go with you. See the rest of you later,” Jane told the group with a smile.

As they headed outside, Scarlet asked, “Do you really think we can pretend a ghost is telling us about a murder and get someone to confess?”

Jane looked at her and shrugged. “Maybe a ghost really
will
tell us about a murder. I don’t know, but we have to try anything we can at this point. Forensics hasn’t come up with a thing. Whoever’s doing this is hiding his identity with more than that mask. He wears gloves and takes care not to lose so much as a skin cell at any of the scenes.”

“So we have to become creative,” Scarlet said.

Jane nodded.

“What if Angus or Linda is the killer?” Scarlet asked.

“Do you think so?”

“No, but I can’t figure out who it is, so I have to consider everyone a suspect.”

“If we understood why, we might discover who,” Jane said. “Maybe all those journals of yours are important. I’d like to do some reading, too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Scarlet said. “And later, if there’s a chance, I’d like to spend some time at the shooting range.”

When they returned to the museum, Diego was on the phone with Lieutenant Gray, and Brett and Lara were checking out the displays together.

When he hung up he recapped the call for them. “Gray has had people out on the street night and day, trying to find anyone who saw anything. They’ve followed up on all the calls that came in and talked to our leads from the Twisted Antler, but when it comes to useful information, his people are drawing blanks. I’ve told him about tonight, and he’ll be on call, ready to step in if anything happens. Believe it or not, Lieutenant Gray likes our idea of a séance. He’s feeling tremendous pressure from the mayor to solve this. He told me that for the first time in his life, he was glad for the Bureau to take over.”

“Brett and I are going downtown to follow up on Cassandra’s story. Maybe we can find something in that alley. He had to move fast there, so maybe he got careless in a way he hasn’t, at least so far, at the kill sites,” Diego said. He looked questioningly at Jane.

She smiled and told him, “Scarlet and I are going to read. Don’t worry, please. I can handle myself in a fight.”

Diego grinned. “I have no doubt, though I also doubt it will come to that. Just be careful and don’t trust anyone. My gut says our killer’s going to be one of those scary guys everybody likes and no one suspects. Let’s face it, if some guy was running around town dripping blood or spouting threats, someone would have noticed him by now.”

“We’ll stick to each other like glue, and we won’t trust anyone,” Scarlet promised him.

“Good. We’ll meet back here for dinner around six, then head over and ‘séance,’” he said.

“And I’d like to read Nathan’s journals with you guys, if you don’t mind,” Lara said, coming up behind them.

Scarlet found the day not only interesting, but also actively fun.

Jane talked about working as a sketch artist for Texas law enforcement before joining the Krewe, and Lara talked about how Meg, who she’d known since they were kids, had gotten involved with the Krewe and how that had ultimately led to her own involvement—and to falling in love with Brett.

“I’m not law enforcement—I’m in PR and I plan to stay in PR—but the Krewe sometimes hires civilian experts, so who knows?” Lara said. “If the Bureau tells Brett he has to move one day, maybe I’ll end up working for the Krewe, too. Right now, Brett can work from Miami—there’s a need for a Krewe presence there, trust me—and I can stay on at the Sea Life Center. But if he has to move, you can bet I’ll be going with him, because more than anything I want to spend my life with Brett. It’s hard to play second fiddle sometimes, but when someone’s life is at stake, I get it. It’s made me pretty tough and resilient, actually. I might actually make a good agent.”

“There’s no way to tell what the future will bring any of us,” Jane said. “I’m just lucky to be married to another Krewe agent. I guess when you’re blessed—or afflicted—with a sixth sense the way we are, it’s a real plus when you fall in love with someone who can see ghosts, too.”

“Hey,” Lara said, frowning as she delicately pried apart pages in one of the journals. “I think there’s something in here. Do you know what it is?”

“No,” Scarlet admitted. “I never even noticed those pages were stuck together.”

Lara handed her the journal. Scarlet dug around in her desk for a tiny tweezers and carefully extracted the folded note stuck between the pages.

“It’s a note,” Scarlet said, delicately unfolding the fragile paper. She looked up at the others. “It’s a note written by United States Marshal Tom Vickers—his eulogy to his daughter.”

Scarlet began to read aloud.

“‘Did ever a child bring greater light to a parent’s life? Could any man be prouder of a daughter’s beauty, that which shone on her lovely face, and that which eternally radiated from the sweet glory of her heart? Her child, her boy, is all that is left in life that matters to me, and by my daughter’s soul, I swear I will raise that boy to know of her beauty, and I will raise him in happiness and that blessed light which Jillian bestowed upon all others.’” She looked at Jane and Lara, and said softly, “Wow. Sure doesn’t sound like the words of a man who killed his daughter and her husband.”

“I really don’t believe Marshal Vickers killed his own daughter,” Jane said. “Admittedly, he doesn’t mention Nathan in the note, but it’s obvious he truly loved his own child and his grandchild.”

Scarlet smiled suddenly, “I just realized—if I’m a descendant of Nathan Kendall, then I’m also a descendant of Marshal Vickers.”

Maybe she didn’t want to believe Tom Vickers had been a murderer because she didn’t want to think badly of a relative, however distant, or consider the possibility that a killer’s blood ran through her own veins.

“Diego said he’s been studying the murders, too, and that he could be proven wrong, but he’s never thought it was Jillian’s father,” Jane said. “That leaves us with one of the outlaws Nathan Kendall ran with right after the war.”

“Or someone else we’ve never thought of, even some stranger passing through,” Scarlet said, shaking her head.

“But why?” Jane asked. “What motive could a stranger have had? All the evidence says Nathan Kendall was killed for a reason.”

“The only other person I can think of,” Scarlet said, “is Rollo Conway. But he sold Nathan the ranch. Nathan did him a favor, really, since Rollo needed the money so he could keep looking for gold. Why would he kill Nathan?”

“Jealousy?” Lara asked. “Resentment?”

“We’ve thought about that,” Scarlet admitted. “But it doesn’t really make sense, and it’s not as if Rollo would have gotten the ranch back if Nathan and even Jillian died. There was still their son, and the killer could easily have gone into the house and killed him, but he didn’t. Rollo just doesn’t fit.”

“Was Nathan Kendall wealthy?” Jane asked. “Maybe someone was trying to torture him into giving up the location of his money.”

“I don’t think so,” Scarlet said. “One reason people back then suspected his fellow outlaws was the theory that they’d made a big score somewhere along the way and Nathan was hiding the money, even that he’d stolen it from them when he left them for a normal life. But if you read Nathan’s journals, it’s hard to believe he was hoarding anything of value.”

“I guess we keep reading,” Lara said.

“There’s a mention here about the death of a friend,” Scarlet said a little while later, looking up at the others. “Nathan doesn’t give a name, but I have a feeling it was the last of the outlaws he ran with. He says, ‘Goodbye, old friend; goodbye to the past. Gunned down in Missouri. I guess it was fitting. You died in what was once the Old South, just as you would no doubt have wanted. And yet you were just here with me, as were the others. How quickly we are going. You died fast, they said. Before you hit the ground. More than any of us deserved, perhaps. Rest in peace.’ It has to be Jeff Bay. So if all the outlaws died before Nathan was murdered, then it’s obvious none of them killed him.”

“I still don’t believe it was the father,” Lara said.

“I don’t, either,” Scarlet said. “But that takes us right back to Rollo Conway,” Scarlet said. “And we’ve already agreed that he doesn’t make sense, either.” She shook her head. “No, the killer wanted something. That has to be it. He wanted something.”

“But what?” Jane asked.

Scarlet looked around. “Something that might still be here?”

She rose, walked over to the window and looked out. She had the sudden sensation that someone was watching the house, and a shiver raced along her spine.

It was different from what she felt when a ghost was near. It was the same feeling she’d had that night when she’d come back after a night in town and found out that two people had been murdered right here on the ranch.

“Don’t think I’m crazy, but I feel like we’re being watched,” she said, looking back at Jane and Lara. “It’s not the way I feel when a ghost is around, it’s...creepy. But maybe ghosts make you guys feel creepy?”

“Not me. I’m not afraid of them at all,” Jane said. “I think there’s a real and noticeable difference between the feeling you get when the dead are trying to reach you and when the living are watching you, stalking you. Like I said, I don’t fear ghosts, but I definitely fear the living.”