Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 5

by Heather Graham

  She stared at Brett in surprise when he set a hand gently on Candace’s shoulder. He looked at her and nodded toward the body, a clear suggestion that she do the same. She carefully avoided glancing at Fuller, who must have been thinking they were all crazy.

  She touched Candace but felt nothing. Nothing at all except for an inanimate coldness, as if she was touching a rock in winter. Nothing more.

  “Are you guys mediums or something?” Fuller asked.

  “Me?” Scarlet asked, turning to face him. “No, not at all.”

  Fuller looked at Brett. “It’s fine with me if you are, just so you know. Whatever works for you, go with it. Okay, let’s go see Mr. Parker.”

  He rechecked his pad, but Larry Parker turned out to be in a shiny silver drawer right next to his wife’s. Fuller pulled it open.

  Larry Parker had been about forty, graying a little and balding. In death his chin had sunk into his chest, and the top of his Y incision was visible, as well.

  Scarlet thought he’d had a nice face; he had a lot of laugh lines.

  He, too, was cold, and she wondered why she’d even wondered if it might be otherwise as she laid a hand on his shoulder. She looked down at his kindly face, vaguely listening to Brett and Lara talking with Fuller in the background about recent developments in the case.

  She didn’t realize she was still touching him until…

  His eyes suddenly flew open, and he sat up and grabbed her arm. When he spoke, his voice had the same sound of dry, rustling leaves as Nathan’s.

  “You know,” he said. “You know!”

  Scarlet backed away and blinked hard, startled.

  When she opened her eyes, she realized that Larry Parker hadn’t really moved. She had imagined the entire scenario.

  And she’d backed right into Dr. Fuller.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

  “It’s okay. Are you all right?” he asked her.

  “I’m fine,” she said, and forced a smile, then felt ridiculous for trying so hard to smile.

  In the morgue.

  Lara looked at her with concern, but it was Brett who spoke.

  “You all set?” he asked.

  “Are you okay?” Lara asked.

  “I’m all set. Dr. Fuller, thank you.”

  “I hope you find the killer soon,” Fuller said, and led them out.

  As they left the morgue, Brett looked at Scarlet with concern. “Did something happen in there? Did you get a sense that Larry or Candace was still there?”

  “No. There was a moment when I got spooked and thought Larry was coming back to life, like something from a cheap horror movie, but that was it. Thank you for bringing me, even if we didn’t learn anything.”

  “Well, you never know ’til you try,” Brett said.

  His phone rang just as they got to the car, and they waited while he answered. Scarlet could tell that he was talking to Diego.

  As soon as he hung up he said, “They’ve found Charles Barton and they have him in custody.”

  “And?” Scarlet persisted.

  “He’s denying everything, but…”

  “But what?” Scarlet asked.

  “They found bloody fabric in his car. Lieutenant Gray thinks it’s from a jacket Cassandra Wells had at work but wasn’t wearing when she was found. As unfathomable as it may seem, it looks like Charles Barton is our killer.”

  * * *

  Charles Barton sat in a chair across from Diego. He was belligerent, still, after several hours, denying that he had killed anyone and swearing that he had no idea how the bloody fabric had ended up in his car.

  “Why in God’s name would I have come out here for my honeymoon and then started shooting a bunch of total strangers?” he demanded. “And that moose head! I wouldn’t begin to know how to rig it up to shoot arrows at people. And don’t forget I have an alibi. On the night the Parkers were killed I was with my wife, remember?”

  “Your wife doesn’t really know where you were. She took one of her headache pills, remember?”

  “And so did I!” he exclaimed. “I was out like a light. Or do you think I kill people in my sleep?” He groaned suddenly. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s probably happened, or at least someone’s probably used it as an excuse in a courtroom. But I swear to you—I didn’t do it! Get Gwen in here. She’ll tell you I’m not a killer. I’m a quarterback, for God’s sake.”

  Diego decided against telling him that being an athlete didn’t make a man innocent. In fact, given recent events, it might even make things more difficult for him.

  Charles leaned forward suddenly. “It’s an inside job. Can’t you see that? You have to look at Ben Kendall. It’s his place. He knows his own damned walls. I’m telling you, this is a setup.”

  “So why did you elude a police guard?” He saw Charles’s shocked look and said, “That’s right. We had people watching your hotel. So where were you? Where did you go this morning?”

  Charles reddened, then quickly looked away.

  “Wherever the hell it was, it’s better to tell us. Otherwise it looks as if you were out planning to ditch evidence or even kill again,” Diego warned him quietly.

  “I—I can’t tell you.”

  “You’d better tell me.”

  Barton looked down at the table. “If I do, can we keep it a secret?”

  “Charles, we’re talking about multiple murders.”

  Barton remained silent. Then his shoulders fell. “I was with a woman,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I was with another woman,” he snapped, then let out a breath. “Yes, I know, I’m on my honeymoon. But with every passing minute, I know…well, I know I made a mistake. I have no excuse. I just… I couldn’t help myself,” he admitted lamely.

  Diego sat back, skeptical and wary. “Who is this other woman?” he demanded.

  Barton didn’t answer.

  There was a knock at the door. Lieutenant Gray had been watching the interview, so Diego excused himself and stepped outside, expecting to see Gray in the hallway.

  It wasn’t Lieutenant Gray, however, who had knocked at the door. It was one of his men, a young detective.

  “Lieutenant Gray asked me to tell you that the men following the Levins tailed them into town, then lost them somewhere around the old water wheel. Lieutenant Gray has headed out to the Conway Ranch. Ben and Trisha Kendall are here, and Gray thinks Scarlet and Terry Ballantree—who went running right back after we questioned him—should be here, too, for their own safety. The lieutenant’s going to ask Agent Cody and fiancée to come along, too.”

  * * *

  Scarlet was staring at the pile of journals on her desk. Lara was sitting across from her, while Brett kept circling the statue of Nathan Kendall.

  She was edgy, Scarlet realized, starting when Brett’s phone rang. He looked over at her immediately, and she knew it was Diego again.

  Brett spoke in monosyllables. “Yes” and then “No,” and then “Yes” again. When he hung up, he looked at her.

  “Lieutenant Gray is on his way. We’re all going down to the station with him,” he said.

  “Why? Do they know something new?”

  He nodded, then turned his attention back to the mannequin. “So strange,” he murmured.

  “What is?” Scarlet asked.

  He looked at her and grimaced. “Life and death,” he said. “We have Daniel Kendall, nice easygoing guy, killed relatively recently, and all of us can hear him. Then we have poor Nathan Kendall, who’s been around well over a hundred years, and we needed a séance to hear a few words from him, though he did manage to talk to you later, at least. You’d think he would have found peace by now.”

  “They say they stay for a reason,” Lara said. “He pro
bably wanted to see his son grow up, but that was years ago now.”

  “I wonder about Jillian,” Scarlet said. “We don’t really even know what she looked like. Her mannequin is gone, and I haven’t seen a likeness of her anywhere.”

  “You think he’s looking for Jillian?” Brett asked. “Why? She’s buried next to him.”

  “Yes, but let’s face it,” Scarlet said. “Nathan has difficulty as a spirit. Maybe he just can’t figure out how to leave.”

  Her eyes traveled to the side window and she jumped up, a scream tearing from her throat.

  Angus was there, his face pressed to the glass, blood dripping from a wound on his forehead. He seemed to be trying to cry out for help.

  * * *

  Diego walked back into the interrogation room and leaned over the table to stare Charles Barton in the face. “Who?” he asked. “Who is the woman you were seeing?”

  “Look, it was stupid. She just came on to me, that’s all. And Gwen is… I was supposed to marry Gwen. We’d been together forever. But she always has a headache. You know that joke about having a headache at night? Well, it’s no joke with Gwen, it’s the truth. It was like I put that ring on her finger, said ‘I do,’ and she did everything known to man to emasculate me. So when this beautiful woman was interested in me…”

  “Charles!” Diego said sharply. “Your marital problems are your own problem. Who is the woman you’ve been seeing?”

  “Linda,” Charles said. “Linda Reagan. I was with her the night the Parkers were killed, too, and pretty much every night since I’ve been here.”

  Diego stared at him in shock for a long moment.

  “If you were with her when Candace and Larry Parker were killed, how could she have been in town with Terry Ballantree?” Diego asked.

  Charles shook his head. “She wasn’t. She probably just said that because Gwen was getting suspicious. Or to help Terry out because of the key the police found in his room, and she likes him and doesn’t think he’s guilty. Or maybe she hates Gigi and Clark Levin and wanted to cut them off at the knees. I don’t know. I do know that she was with me that night.”

  “In that case, do you know where your wife was?” Diego asked him.

  “Sleeping through the night. She had to be sleeping, because she took one of those stupid headache pills, and they always knock her out. It’s how I was able to sneak away without her knowing.”

  Diego had the feeling that everything was starting to fall into place, he just had to rearrange the pieces a little more.

  He’d learned something about people and interrogation over the years, and he was convinced that Charles Barton was telling the truth right now, which meant that he was innocent. Ben and Trisha, he was convinced, were also victims, although the incident with the moose head proved that he’d been right from the beginning. This was indeed an inside job, he just didn’t yet know who the insider was.

  He stood suddenly. He needed to get to the Conway Ranch. Linda needed to be questioned, as well.

  Lieutenant Ernie Gray was also a descendant of Nathan Kendall, but whether that meant something or not, Diego didn’t know.

  He did know that he wanted to be with Scarlet—now. He didn’t want to wait for Gray to get back to the station with her.

  He wasn’t even sure he wanted Gray to reach her first.

  * * *

  Scarlet’s scream brought Brett and Lara quickly to her side.

  But in the split second it took them to reach her, Angus had disappeared and all that remained were the horrible bloodstains dripping down the pane.

  “It was Angus. He was hurt, bleeding…” Scarlet said.

  “All right, you two stay here. Lock the door and set the alarm behind me,” Brett said. Then, Glock in hand, he was out the door.

  * * *

  Diego dialed Brett’s number as he headed to his car.

  There was no answer.

  He tried Scarlet.

  No answer.

  Last, he tried Lara.

  When he received no answer from her, either, he floored the gas pedal and sped through town, his heart thundering.

  * * *

  Scarlet’s phone started to ring in tandem with a thunderous knock at the door. She jumped, startled, and looked over at Lara.

  Before either one of them could react, the visitor announced himself. “Scarlet! It’s Lieutenant Gray. I’m here to take you down to the station. Diego knows I’m picking you up. You shouldn’t be out there with just one or two people around. You need to be at the station, surrounded by cops, where you’ll be safe.”

  She disarmed the alarm and swung the door open.

  Lieutenant Gray was there, looking anxious.

  “Diego called Brett to tell us you were coming, but…” She paused. She wanted to tell him about Angus and Brett running out to find him, but then she saw the apparition of Nathan Kendall standing behind Lieutenant Gray and gesturing frantically.

  Scarlet saw the danger coming, and something inside her sprang to life. She couldn’t save herself, but Lara was still inside.

  She slammed the door behind her.

  And then the killer fired.

  She screamed and stared at the man standing in front of her and wielding the antique gun that had killed the Parkers, the gun that had just been fired at Lieutenant Ernest Gray, who now lay on the ground with a pool of blood forming beneath him.

  Scarlet hunched down instinctively to see if she could help the lieutenant.

  She wondered what this man had done to Brett Cody, and she prayed that Lara wouldn’t rush out, fearful for her fiancé.

  “Get up, Scarlet. Leave him. Now. Unless you want me to make sure that he’s dead. You know—put another slug in him.”

  Scarlet got to her feet. The Colt was still pointed at her. She thought about the hours she’d spent at the shooting range when she was still with Diego back in Miami and the vast array of historic weapons just inside.

  He was wearing a burlap bag over his head with roughly cut holes for the eyes. But she knew who it was. Knew by the sound of his voice, and his height and build.

  “If you’re going to shoot me, shoot me,” she told him, amazed at how calm she sounded.

  She couldn’t see his mouth, but she knew he was smiling. “Now, Scarlet, I’ve learned to judge people fairly well. You’re going to come with me, because you know that I’m perfectly willing to shoot people. And I’ll be happy to shoot your friend.”

  “I’ve just closed the door.”

  “Which has to be locked from inside.”

  “Do you think Lara is an idiot?” Scarlet demanded. “She’ll lock the door. And there are dozens of guns in there.”

  “That need the right ammunition. Why take a chance with her life? The poor woman has been through enough. Come with me,” he said.

  “Where?” she asked.

  Nathan Kendall was still there, gritting his teeth in concentration and trying to fight him. But Terry Ballantree was entirely unaware of the apparition at his side. “We’re going to take a ride,” he told her.

  “Where?”

  “Up to the cemetery.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve figured out that’s where it is—where it has to be! I’ve searched everywhere else, and hell, where do you bury things? A graveyard. I just don’t know where in the cemetery. But you do, and you’re going to show me.”

  She shook her head. “The gold? I don’t have any idea where the gold is. That’s the truth. And why did you attack Angus? He had no part of any of this. He’s not a descendant of Nathan Kendall.”

  “No, he’s not, and I don’t really care. He was just a means to an end. And it’s not as if the scraggly old coot has anything to live for anyway. You think ancestry is so important, don’t you? W
ell, yeah, I learned about the gold because I’m a descendant of Rollo Conway. I heard about the gold and how it was stolen from us my whole life. I needed specifics, though, and all those ancestry sites were perfect for that. You like the burlap bag? I think it’s a nice touch. I know it’s what Nathan Kendall and his friends wore when they robbed people, and I thought it would help muddy the waters.” He snorted derisively. “This place is called the Conway Ranch. It should be mine, but it isn’t. I don’t really give a damn about that, though it was fun to watch you all go crazy looking for the connection to old Nathan. It was such fun to find and kill the right people to get you all hot on your research. I know you read those diaries cover to cover—and I know you found the gold. Now let’s go.”

  “Brett Cody is here, and I can guarantee you’ll lose in a shoot-out,” Scarlet said.

  “Not to worry. Agent Cody is off following Angus’s bloody trail into the woods. He’ll come back eventually, of course, and then I’ll shoot him. Lara, too, when she comes rushing out to see what’s going on. And, of course, if you don’t come with me nicely, I’ll start shooting you in some of your less vital body parts. Hurts like a mother, but you’ll stay alive long enough to give me what I want.”

  “You idiot. Brett Cody called for backup,” she said.

  “I figured he would. And Agent McCullough, your dear ex, will be first in line, rushing heroically in to save you—and I’ll shoot him,” he said. Once again, she knew that he was smiling. “That will actually be a pleasure. Come on, Scarlet, no more playing for time, hoping for rescue. I have the horses ready. Blaze for you, of course. Come. Now. Or stay here and wait for the bloodbath. And then, once I’ve gotten what I want anyway, I’ll make sure that you bleed out slowly yourself, watching life, in all its beauty, disappear before your eyes.”

  She was still stalling, desperately trying to decide what to do, when he shot at her foot—close enough for her to feel the burn and watch the leather of her boot rip.

  “Don’t think I caught flesh yet,” he said cheerfully, “but next time…I will.”

  “Let’s go,” she said, heading for the stables.