Heather Graham Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 4

by Heather Graham

“Have a seat. Enjoy your wine,” Jane said, joining them.

  As Haley took a seat on the couch, there was another knock at the door. Vince Steward had arrived, greeting everyone jovially. He didn’t want wine; he wanted Scotch. Devin poured him one and he thanked her, then said to Rocky and Jack, “I heard you had one on the hook but lost him.”

  “You’re referring to Brent Corbin?” Rocky asked.

  “We didn’t lose him, but we don’t make a habit of holding people without evidence,” Jack said, bristling slightly.

  “And he’s a friend,” Devin said quietly.

  “Hey, I’m just telling you what I heard,” Vince said, perching by Haley. “Ivy Donatello, down the hall from me, has taken him on as a client.”

  “I thought you were in maritime law?” Rocky asked.

  “I am. But it’s a big firm and my colleagues have specialties of their own. Anyway, I think Ivy was a little surprised you let him go so easily. I heard he had a dead woman’s phone in his pocket, and yet you cut him loose.” Vince looked at Sam. “Still, nothing but circumstantial evidence when you get right down to it, so no jury could convict him. Don’t you agree, Sam?”

  “I can’t imagine a jury that wouldn’t find reasonable doubt.”

  “I’m assuming you obtained search warrants for his home and office?” Vince asked.

  “We did,” Rocky said. “And you know we can’t discuss an ongoing case with you, Vince—especially when he’s retained your colleague to represent him.”

  “I’m actually hoping Brent will be joining us tonight,” Devin said, even though she knew her hope was unlikely to be rewarded.

  Vince looked genuinely startled. “Really? You invited a possible murderer to have dinner with us?”

  “Oh, I believe in his innocence completely,” Devin said. “He’s been one of my best friends since we were kids.”

  “Oh,” Vince said. “Well, then, I look forward to meeting him.”

  On cue, they heard a knock at the front door again. It wasn’t Brent, however, but Beth, Theo and Gayle, who had come together, probably direct from the shop.

  Beth seemed surprised to meet Rocky’s group and quickly dragged Devin off to the kitchen. “Are you all right? You sounded okay on the phone earlier, but what happened was just terrifying. And you’re not even Wiccan. What do you think that they’re trying to say? And Brent! They arrested Brent. Devin, did—”

  She stopped speaking as Rocky walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips.

  “We should eat soon—everyone is probably hungry,” he said, smiling at Beth. “We’ll give Renee and Brent another minute or two to get here, and then we’ll sit down.”

  As soon as Rocky left, Beth looked at Devin. “Aren’t you terrified?”

  “No,” Devin said, almost surprised to realize it was the truth.

  “No? I would be.”

  “I hang with the FBI,” Devin reminded her.

  “You’d better hang with them all the time. Whoever this guy is—”

  “He’ll get sloppy,” Rocky said, coming back into the kitchen. “Plates, Devin?” he asked.

  “Over there,” she said, pointing.

  There was another knock at the door. Jack went to answer it, greeting Renee and introducing her to Devin’s friends as Devin and Beth went back to join the group.

  Devin watched Rocky but she couldn’t fathom what was in his mind. He walked toward the door, and she followed him. Behind them, things seemed to be going well. Beth was talking with Haley. Theo, Gayle, Renee and Vince were debating animatedly about tarot cards—real or pure bull?—but they all seemed to be getting along well enough.

  Suddenly there was another knock at the door.

  Rocky looked at her with a grim smile and nodded. She walked to the door and opened it.

  Brent Corbin had come, after all.

  From the safety of his cage, Poe let out a long, mournful caw.

  CHAPTER 15

  “I told you, I didn’t do it,” Brent said, accepting a beer from Devin. He turned and looked at Jack and Rocky. “And I should be pissed at the two of you bastards, but this beer tastes so damned good, I’m just going to bask in the fact that I’m here, I’m out and you two are assholes.”

  Beth slipped an arm around his shoulders. “They didn’t really have a choice. They had to do what they did.”

  “Hold me in some scummy little room like a criminal? Tear up my store and my house? Yeah, no choice.” Brent lifted his beer to Rocky and Jack. “Nice friends you have, Devin.” Then he sighed heavily. “Just kidding. I understand. I guess. Wow, that sounds bitter. I really do understand. Of course, you cost me a couple of days’ income and my neighbors are all looking at me like they think I’m about to attack them. But I’m cool, honest.”

  Beth laughed. “Oh, poor Brent! You sound like you’re not sure yourself if you’re really all right or not.”

  “I’m not,” Brent admitted. He took a deep breath and then a long swallow of beer. “It was awful.” He looked pleadingly at Rocky and Jack. “You guys have to find out the truth. I can’t keep going like this, with everyone looking at me like...like...” He shook his head and gave up trying to explain.

  “Why were they questioning you in the first place?” Beth asked.

  He explained about the cell phone—“I swear, someone must have put it there!”—then said, “Look, I’m out, and even if I’m here with the inquisitors from hell, I’m ready to have a good time.”

  Devin smiled and gestured for him to go get some food, but as she did she noticed that Rocky had his cell phone out, and she wondered why.

  He saw her looking at him and smiled.

  She suddenly realized he’d been nursing the same beer all night. He was acting like a normal party guest, but “acting” was the operative word. In reality he was watching. Watching closely.

  “The thing is, Brent,” Rocky said as they all moved toward the food, “if the phone was slipped into your pock—”

  “There’s no if!” Brent protested. “It was slipped into my pocket.”

  “Then whoever did it had to be at the bar, too,” Rocky said.

  “I... Let’s see...”

  “You were in the bar,” Rocky said, turning to Beth. “Did you see anything?”

  “What?” Beth asked, startled. “What bar?”

  “The bar the other night, remember?” Gayle said. She smiled and shook her head. “We were there—you, me and Theo.” She looked at Rocky. “I didn’t see Brent there, but the place was such a zoo, that’s not surprising.”

  “Oh! You mean the night we were doing inventory,” Beth said.

  “Night before last,” Theo said. “We didn’t stay. It was too crowded.”

  “That’s what we hear,” Jack said.

  “Well, I, for one, wasn’t there,” Haley said. “This is my big night out.”

  “I wasn’t there, either,” Renee said.

  “Because you were with me,” Haley said.

  Renee smiled. “Haley and Jack are letting me stay with them, because I was worried about living on my own.”

  “That’s safe and smart,” Beth said.

  “Definitely—with everything going on, women should stay together,” Gayle said, nodding.

  “You can come stay with me if you want,” Beth told Gayle.

  “I have the big house—you could come stay with me,” Gayle said.

  “Maybe I will,” Beth agreed.

  “Hey, this is a party, right?” Vince said. “Maybe we could talk about something a little more cheerful?”

  “Absolutely!” Jack said. “You asked for it. Here come the pictures of Jackie.”

  As he and Haley whipped out their cell phones, Devin found herself looking around the room. She’d known Beth an
d Brent most of her life, and Gayle for a long time, too, but differently, since she was older than they were. Theo was a newbie, but he’d worked for Beth for quite a while now.

  His friends, she thought. It had to be one of his friends. They’d all been there when Melissa Wilson was killed, plus they’d known her, and that connection had to mean something.

  As people took their food and moved to sit comfortably around the parlor, Vince and Sam Hall wound up in conversation, their shared profession providing an easy link. After his initial bout of anger, Brent seemed to be happy to relax and have a good time. At one point she noticed Rocky deep in conversation with Gayle.

  She took a seat on the sofa near them and started eavesdropping. They were talking about the area.

  “I love how this state is always changing,” Gayle said. “Immigrants are always arriving, and most people welcome them. Of course, people do like to tease that Bostonians can be a bit snobby, but you can’t really blame them, since a lot of them can trace their roots back to the earliest days of the colony.”

  “Me for one,” Rocky said. “On my mother’s side.”

  “Me, too,” Beth said, walking over in time to catch the end of the conversation. “Gayle and Brent, too. Theo, you came from the Midwest, right?”

  Theo laughed. “Most recently, yup.”

  Sitting in the wingback chair across from the sofa, Haley sighed softly. “I guess Jackie is destined to be a snob, because he got a double dose. Both Jack and I can trace our families back to when this area was first settled.”

  “Vince’s family goes way back,” Jack noted, lifting his glass in a mock toast.

  “Dear God, we’re more inbred than a pack of poodles!” Renee laughed. “And don’t forget Devin.” She turned to Devin and asked, “Didn’t one of your eighteen-million-greats come here with Roger Conant, the founder of Salem?”

  “Yes, he did,” Devin said. “Both my parents are from Salem.”

  “We’re all probably related to one another somewhere back in the dim mists of time,” Beth said cheerfully.

  “It would be fun to find out if any of us really are related,” Vince said. “Except for poor Theo—you’re practically a tourist,” he teased.

  “Hey, that’s the way it goes,” Theo said, laughing. “At least I’m not inbred.”

  The gathering had grown easy, relaxed—comfortable, Devin thought.

  Except that Rocky seemed to think one of the guests was a murderer.

  Eventually it was time for everyone to leave. Haley urged Beth and Gayle to stay together, and they agreed that Beth would stay at Gayle’s place, at least for that night. Jack said that the chief and the mayor had decided to put out a news alert warning women not to go anywhere alone at night and to stay away from any wooded areas.

  Then everyone was gone but Devin and the Krewe.

  For a moment they were all silent.

  “Well?” Rocky asked quietly.

  “Theo was interesting,” Angela said. “How well do you know him, Devin? There’s something about him—he just makes me feel a little uneasy.”

  “He’s worked for Beth for a while. Where he really came from, I don’t know,” Devin said. “I have no idea where he was living when Melissa was killed.”

  “Tomorrow,” Rocky said, “we continue the archives. There’s more information out there somewhere. We figure out what this all has to do with our Puritan woman—but we make a new effort, as well. We’ll research Theo’s movements over the last thirteen years.” He turned to Angela. “We have fingerprints?”

  She nodded. “I have a glass from everyone here—labeled by name and in a paper bag under the sink.”

  Devin stared at her—she’d been picking up all night, and she’d never seen Angela even take the glasses, much less label and hide them.

  “You’re good,” she murmured admiringly.

  “You learn,” Angela said dryly. “At least now we can find out if one of our guests went to your house and set fire to your lawn.”

  “And now we know for sure that most of us did have ancestors here,” Devin said.

  “Yes. What we don’t know is where they stood regarding the trials—and whether they had a connection with the Nottingham family.” Rocky smiled grimly and said, “I did learn that Gayle’s family was nearly banished. They pretended to be religious so they weren’t thrown into the wilderness. But, according to her, they were never good Puritans.”

  “So...more research,” Jane said.

  “Better than finding more bodies,” Rocky countered.

  * * *

  Devin couldn’t understand why the evening—which had actually ended up feeling like a real get-together—had left her so wrung out. But once they reached the hotel, she didn’t want to think about it.

  And neither did Rocky.

  He didn’t even speak once they got to his room. He quickly shed his jacket and holster, and then she was in his arms. They kissed and stripped until their clothing was strewn along a path to the bed. She pushed him down on the bed, then straddled him and began to ease down his body, her hair fluttering over his skin, her lips teasing his flesh and every erotic zone. He rose against her, pulling her into his arms, pulling her down and locking them together. They stared into each other’s eyes and began to move, until sheer physical pleasure swept away the events of the day and everything that had ever come between them.

  He lay against her and whispered in her ear―teasing, sexual things―and his breath was hot and damp and it felt as if they had barely finished before they began again. She caressed his face as they moved together, loving its lines and planes. She writhed against him and wondered if it was possible to hang on to this world where they were one, or if the best she could do was to cling tightly to this feeling while it lasted. His body was slick and hard, and the way he whispered to her was arousing all by itself, and when they climaxed together in an explosion of heat, it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

  After that they just lay together. She heard the beat of his heart and reveled in the security she felt as he held her and she held him in return.

  She had never in her life slept so well as she did that night.

  * * *

  In the morning Devin found a note on the table next to a large pot of coffee. It told her to come to the suite next door. “Went into your room already—no new ‘gifts’ today. Cameras are working in the elevators and hallways. No visitors during the night—oh, and the maids are around, so dress to be seen.”

  She smiled, but she didn’t need to go to her room. Rocky had brought back her things; she just had to shower and dress.

  Before she did so, to be safe, she dead-bolted the door.

  * * *

  When she knocked on the door of the Krewe suite, a cup of coffee in hand, she was let in by Angela. Rocky was bent over a computer, watching as Jane worked. A printer was busily spewing out pictures.

  They were, she realized, of everyone who had attended their party the night before.

  Rocky looked up at her. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Are you any good at research?” Angela asked her.

  “Not too bad,” Devin said. “I used to be a reporter.”

  Rocky straightened. “Jenna and I are heading out. I want to stop by the bar to speak with the staff again. They should be around even if they don’t open till lunch. She’s going to join Sam at the courthouse, where he’s checking on Vince’s records and activities over the past few years, especially in relation to his work as an attorney. On his way he dropped off the glasses at the lab for fingerprint analysis. I want the three of you to do some genealogical research, see what you can find online, check out some of the local archives.”

  Devin nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “Sure.” She turne
d to Angela. “So what are we researching exactly?”

  “We’re going to find out who might have been related to Margaret Nottingham, the Myles family, and who the someone might have been who killed her. Then, we’re going to try and figure out if she was killed because someone loved her, was afraid because of her—or, perhaps, afraid of her.”

  “Big order for the day!” Devin said.

  “Yes,” Angela agreed. “So....” She stood up. “Jane?”

  “Last of the pictures coming off now,” Jane said.

  “Okay, Jenna and I are out of here, then,” Rocky said, collecting the pictures.

  Rocky waved to Devin and then they were gone. She noticed that he hadn’t specifically warned her to stay with Angela and Jane.

  Trained agents.

  Who carried guns.

  He seemed to have faith in her intelligence.

  That or her natural instinct to survive.

  Because she had no intention of going anywhere alone.

  * * *

  The bar staff were indeed getting ready for lunch, but the same crew wasn’t on and Rocky could have kicked himself. He should have known that.

  But the day manager, Tilda Merton, was a pleasant and cooperative woman who immediately understood his need. She was clearly rattled that the last victim had been in the bar shortly before her death, and that her phone had disappeared there.

  She had taken Rocky back to the office to obtain the phone numbers he needed of the employees who had been on the night of Barbara Benton’s death, so he could call and make arrangements to show them his stack of photographs.

  “It must have been planned, don’t you think?” Tilda asked. “I mean...someone must have taken her phone so she’d have to come back for it. It’s scary, knowing that guy—that killer—is still out there. It’s still daylight when I get off, but my husband comes to get me.”

  “That’s good. Keep it up until we get the guy,” Rocky told her.

  When he left the bar, he made a quick call, looked down Essex in the direction he needed to go, then started walking.

  Things changed, and yet they didn’t. In some parts of Salem, as the clouds roiled overhead, you could narrow your eyes and think you’d gone back hundreds of years.