Running through the woods, he heard voices just ahead.
He burst through the trees to see that Joe Brighton was standing over Meg. Protocol said he should draw his Glock and tell the man to halt and drop his weapon.
But that would give Joe Brighton time to carry out his deed if he didn’t drop his knife. And Matt couldn’t risk shooting at such close range. Especially since Brighton wouldn’t care if he died in killing Meg.
And then Meg would be dead.
Matt didn’t call out a warning. He hurled himself straight at Brighton, bringing them both down a few feet past Meg. He’d taken the man by surprise; the Bowie knife flew into the dirt. He heard Meg scramble to her feet. The man beneath him was struggling to reach his own gun. Matt slammed him with a right hook against his jaw.
He turned just as Meg kicked the Bowie knife far from the man’s grasp. Kendra let out a howl that sounded like that of a dying wildcat; she leaped at Meg.
But Meg didn’t need help. She caught the woman by her shoulders and threw her hard against a tree. Kendra staggered to her feet. Meg headed back for her, a ball of energy and fury.
Meg had a damned good right hook herself.
Kendra Walker went down, sagging against the tree.
Matt heard Jackson’s voice. He stood over the fallen Joe Brighton, panting and gasping as the ghosts of the soldiers moved through the forest like...wraiths.
He looked at Meg and she looked back at him, then scampered across the clearing, ridiculously clad in a too-big officer’s jacket and giant boots. She flung herself into his arms and said, “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d come.”
At their feet Killer barked excitedly.
Matt held Meg in his arms as if she were the most precious being on earth—which she was, to him. And then, as Jackson erupted through the trees and ran over to them, Matt ducked to pick up the little dog.
Jackson glanced at them and then at the two on the ground and nodded his relief. He stepped forward, ready to handcuff Brighton and Kendra Walker.
Matt turned slightly. He smiled and lifted a hand. Soldiers in blue, and soldiers in butternut and gray, were disappearing, becoming part of the trees.
Private Murphy, inclining his head gravely, was the last to go. Matt mouthed the words Thank you, and the apparitions in the forest disappeared into the mists of night.
Epilogue
Meg was glad to be at Matt’s town house—and to have Lara there, too. It was Lara’s first night out of the hospital. Due to exposure and dehydration, she had pneumonia, and although she was still sick, she was doing much better. Nancy Cooper was driving up to be with her beloved niece, and they’d have dinner here, with Matt and Meg. Then Nancy would be with Lara when she returned to her home by the Capitol and packed up.
After that, Lara was going to Florida. She wanted to lie low and she no longer wanted to be in the public eye. She’d been offered a job at a new dolphin research facility near Miami, a small place where her PR skills would be vital. She’d always had an interest in marine zoology, as well as politics, and it was important that the public understand that the staff weren’t torturing dolphins; they were taking in the old and the wounded and doing research on dolphin intelligence while delighting children and adults alike with the social antics of the sea mammals.
“A scandal like this hasn’t hit Washington since...ever!” Lara said, curled up in an armchair and sipping tea. “I’m still doubtful. I can’t believe that Ian Walker had no clue whatsoever that his wife was so fixated on the White House—or that she was willing to commit murder to get there. Well, to arrange for murders to be committed. Or maybe she didn’t see it as murder. But I heard them talking once. Kendra and Ian, that is. And she was telling him that he should be the one making the bid for the White House, not Congressman Hubbard. But he said that as long as Hubbard was running, he was second man on the ticket and that was that. And...the next thing I knew, Hubbard was dead. Heart attack. I vaguely suspected Ian—or one of his aides. But when I was with that trio—Ellery, Joe and Nathan—they all seemed to be okay. So, while I suspected something, what do you in a situation like that?
“The night we were working so late, he was finishing up his Gettysburg speech, and that’s when I saw how much he intended to change his policies and...his changes did not support Congressman Hubbard’s platform. I didn’t know if those guys had anything to do with Hubbard’s heart attack. Still, I felt I had to get away, try to figure it out, keep my distance from them.”
She hesitated. “I had no idea at the time that Joe Brighton—Slash McNeil—had already decided that I might have to disappear. And that he was out there, murdering and mutilating other women, so there’d be a real trauma on the national scene and that people would believe that I’d either left—or been a victim of the killer. Never mind that he’d apparently found a...an obscene calling as a serial killer. What I still don’t understand is why he didn’t just kill me at the start.”
Meg watched as Matt came around behind Lara’s chair. “Lara, you don’t remember much from that last night in Gettysburg. You couldn’t. You were burning up with fever and then you were in the hospital. Kendra Walker never admitted to anything. She immediately demanded a lawyer, called us liars and said she’d been trying to save Meg because she suspected Joe of being a killer. She’s sticking to her story, but I doubt she’ll get away with it. The prosecutors are organizing their evidence and their case with a vengeance. Walker claims he’s absolutely innocent—but whether he is or isn’t, he’s retired from politics now.”
“I think he might have had a sick feeling that things weren’t right,” Meg said, “but from what I gathered that night, she always ‘wore the pants’ in their family. He wouldn’t have questioned her. He would’ve done as he was told.” She shook her head ruefully. “I’m still staggered by the fact that they managed to get me out of the house that night,” she said, catching Matt’s hand and smiling.
“I went through all of this with Jackson and Angela, trying to straighten out the details,” Matt said. “Kendra played up to Maddie Hubbard all the time, and she made sure that Maddie left her door open so she could run in to ‘check’ on her and that she spent time with her, as well. None of the security forces noticed her going in and out, and there was quite a bit of commotion. So, apparently, when she’d supposedly gone to bed and you’d gone to your room, she went to Maddie’s and had Joe follow her—with the chloroform,” Matt said. “Maddie was out like a light. All they had to do was make sure that Joe could get you when you were either asleep—or in the shower. Kendra made all the plans, always had. She knew when to be with Hubbard, how and when to switch his pills, and yes, she did have to hope he died when he didn’t get his digitalis. What I don’t think she initially realized was that she got a true madman to do her deeds. I think Joe would’ve been happy to cut her throat in the woods that night. He’s gone completely mad now, says there is no Joe Brighton, that his name is Slash McNeil.”
“I think Kendra’s her own kind of psychopath,” Lara said.
Matt nodded. “No argument there. Anyway, she made her mistake with you, Lara. She didn’t want your body showing up right away. She wanted your remains tossed when the time was right and...”
He paused for a minute, then said quietly, “...and sufficiently decayed to make identification difficult at first. But she was afraid of Meg, too, since Meg—Lara’s best friend—was an FBI agent. Somehow she figured that she could get rid of her that night in Gettysburg—and that we’d all believe Meg had thrown her career to the winds to go and look for her friend.”
“But who arranged for Walker’s company to buy the property by the mill? That was obviously all part of the plan,” Meg said.
“Joe did—after Kendra said they should have it. Kendra arranged to rent the MacAndrew farmstead for the day of the speech. She chose the room assignments. Meg, do you remember that
your window was right by a trellis that ran along the wall from the back porch? Well, he just climbed down it with you over his shoulder. While he was doing that, Kendra was outside, ever so sweetly checking with the security men there and making sure they were watching the road for traffic—or for anyone trying to sneak in. No one was looking for anyone to sneak out. Brighton got you outside, walked down the field to a little ATV he’d purchased and dumped you at the mill. I suspect,” he continued, “that Kendra told Slash he could kill you both after Gettysburg. The speech would be over. There was no danger of the public not adoring Ian Walker, and all would be fine.”
“Do you know why Kendra ordered one of the dead girls’ tongues to show up at her house—and then in Ellery Manheim’s desk?” Meg asked. “And at his house?”
“I think so,” Matt replied. He offered them a grim smile. “Manheim really was innocent. Kendra wanted him out of the house. He might get too close to the truth. Fortunately, she didn’t think of everything. Unfortunately, neither did we. If we’d gone through all the footage of who was where when, we would’ve known that Slash wasn’t at the Walker house on the night of the murders. We were looking for Manheim. But even if we’d gone through them all, Walker’s three closest aides have their own residences, too, so they could’ve claimed they spent the night at their homes, where there weren’t security cameras. Lucky for Ellery Manheim, he was in the Walker house on the nights that mattered.”
Lara looked over at Meg and smiled. “My dear friend, you are the best. I love you so much. I kept believing that you’d find me. And you did.”
“To be honest, at first I thought you were dead. Matt was the one who felt certain you were still alive. And he read your journal and decided that we needed to follow it. Even if Walker hadn’t been speaking in Gettysburg, it was going to be our next stop.”
“I guess you didn’t plan on finding me the way that you did,” Lara said drily.
“No. And...I guess I didn’t actually find you. But we would have. I just don’t know if we would have found you in time, otherwise. And so...”
“So...” Lara said. Something in her voice told Meg that she didn’t want to dwell on this anymore. Lara suddenly smiled. “So there I was in a black pit—while you were getting it on with the government hottie!” she teased. Then she frowned. “I don’t understand. What did Joe get out of all this, doing everything Kendra said?”
“First, she got him by telling him that she knew what he really was—and what he was doing. And then, by allowing him to vent his craziness and even giving it a direction.” Meg shook her head. “You should have seen her that night. My God, she was proud of herself.”
“Scary as hell!” Lara said with a shudder. “I can’t believe I’m alive.”
Meg grinned, not even flushing. “Hey, the government hottie helped me find you.”
“Hey, I’m sitting right here,” Matt said. He grinned back at Meg. “I like being a hottie.”
Meg groaned. “Don’t let all this go to your head...” she pleaded.
Her voice trailed off as Killer began to bark. There was a knock at the door, and Matt rose to answer it. Nancy Cooper had arrived.
Matt opened the door, welcoming Nancy in; there were hugs all around, but none so tight as the one she gave her niece.
Then there was a lot of laughter and joy as they sat down to the roast dinner Matt had insisted he could prepare, which was excellent.
But it was an early night; Lara still tired quickly and she and Nancy needed to get to her place.
When it was time to leave, Lara hugged Meg fiercely and then Matt.
Meg stood with him in the doorway to watch them leave. Killer escorted them down the walk.
Matt started to return to the house, and Meg called the dog.
But the little guy stayed at the end of the walk. And Meg saw Genie Gonzales appear, then slowly stoop down to pet him.
Genie noticed Meg watching her. She lifted a hand, and Meg realized she was saying goodbye.
“Thank you,” Genie said, gesturing at Killer.
“No, thank you,” Meg said.
Matt came to the doorway, just as Genie disappeared. She didn’t merely fade away; it seemed that there was a beautiful flash of light all around her.
It might have been a blinking streetlight.
Meg didn’t think so.
She knew Matt didn’t, either.
After a moment, he said, “Come on, Killer. In for the night.”
The dog looked out into the night a moment longer, then obediently trotted back into the house.
Matt closed and locked the door.
He leaned against it, trapping Meg in his arms, locking her into position there. He smiled. “Hottie, huh?”
“Oh, Lord,” she murmured.
“Want me to prove it?” he teased.
“If you can,” she teased back.
He released her and she headed up the stairs, aware that he was following her, that he knew her mind...
And was quite capable of proving that he was everything she wanted. Her lover, her partner.
And her life.
* * ***
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE FORGOTTEN by Heather Graham.
“Graham does a great job of blending just a bit of paranormal with real, human evil.”
—Miami Herald on Unhallowed Ground
Looking for more bone-chilling mysteries starring the FBI’s paranormal investigations unit, the Krewe of Hunters?
Don’t miss the next electrifying installments in this incredible series from New York Times bestselling author and queen of romantic suspense Heather Graham:
The Forgotten (August 2015) and The Hidden (October 2015).
Packed with deadly intrigue and spine-tingling suspense, catch up on the complete Krewe of Hunters series today!
Phantom Evil
Heart of Evil
Sacred Evil
The Evil Inside
The Unseen
The Unholy
The Unspoken
The Uninvited
The Night Is Watching
The Night Is Alive
The Night Is Forever
The Cursed
The Hexed
The Betrayed
Complete your collection!
If you love the Krewe of Hunters, then you won’t want to miss a moment of page-turning romantic suspense in New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham’s
Cafferty & Quinn novels.
Let the Dead Sleep
Waking the Dead
The Dead Play On
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The Forgotten
by Heather Graham
Prologue
“Maria.”
Maria Gomez started at the sound of her name.
She’d thought she was alone.
She had been sitting in the darkness, just staring out at the night, when she’d heard her name spoken. She didn’t even turn at first. She was certain she had imagined it. Her name, spoken so softly, with such affection—by him.
Because all she did was think about Miguel.
She was so numb. She knew that her children worried about her, that her friends and family worried about her, and yet she could do nothing but stare
out at the night. Her balcony was beautiful; she looked out over the walled and tree-laden backyard of the beautiful home she and Miguel had built together in Coconut Grove.
In doing so, she looked out over her life. The children had climbed the great banyan tree that grew so close to the house, just beyond the balcony. She and Miguel had hosted pool
parties for Little League teams, for the Brownies and Girl Scouts. They’d hosted Michelle’s engagement party and a shower for Magdalena when little Sophia had been due.
But the past was gone. The night was quiet. Only the mental echo of haunted laughter remained of the happiness that had once lived here. She knew that it was time for her to leave, too. Join the children up north, where none of them would be happy—but where they would be safe.
Miguel was gone. He had been the great force in the family. She was empty without him, empty of all the things that made a family strong. She hadn’t even been eighteen when she had married him; they’d had nearly twenty-five years together. She had always trusted him.
He’d always been honest with her.
Some said that he had been a very bad man; Maria knew that wasn’t true. He had gotten swept up into bad things with bad men, but he had never hurt anyone himself; he had simply been born at the wrong place at the wrong time.
It had felt like a knife in her heart when she’d read the reports of his death in the paper; he had died as such a man might, the press—apparently desperate to be as dramatic as possible—had reported. His death had been accompanied—literally—by the same searing flame of violence with which he had lived. Doused with accelerants and burned beyond recognition, burned to cinders. Maria didn’t even know if he’d been killed before the fire—she prayed he had been.
Those reporters! Even they claimed it was a heinous end, despite whatever deeds he had allegedly committed. He’d been involved in the drug trade, and everyone knew the drug trade was filled with cold-blooded killers.
But she knew that Miguel had never done anything but own land.
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