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 Na
than’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.”
“She’s right,” Lara said. “Ghosts—they’re just lost souls and they need help. But the living...yeah. They can be terrifying.”
“They can be the true monsters,” Jane said, joining Scarlet at the window. “Unfortunately, I think it’s very likely that we are being watched.”
Lara joined them, shuddered and said, “By the living.”
* * *
Diego and Brett walked all along the streets of downtown Estes Park and spoke to dozens of people.
“I thought I heard a scuffle,” the owner of Louie’s Lounge, Louis Richmond, told them.
“Where? Where did you hear it?” Diego demanded.
“I was on my way to my car, and I was coming up on the alley a few doors down from here,” Richmond said.
“Did you see anyone?” Brett asked.
“No, I looked when I got there, but it was dark, and there’s a Dumpster in the way. I figured it was just a cat going after a rat or something.”
They thanked him and left, hurrying toward the alley in question. It was the same alley Cassandra had mentioned, and they’d been saving it for last, but now, with Ric
hmond’s confirmation, there was no reason to wait any longer before checking it out.
“So,” Brett said, “Cassandra left the Twisted Antler and passed this alley on her way to her car. Whoever grabbed her knew she would be coming this way. He was ready.”
“And since people would notice a guy wearing a bag over his head, he had everything timed and didn’t put it on ’til the last minute. And that strongly suggests he’s familiar with the area and knows exactly where to hide if need be.”
“Yeah, like this damn alley,” Brett said.
They began searching it inch by inch. They’d been at it for nearly an hour when something caught on a brick facade snagged Diego’s attention. “Check this out,” he said.
“What?” Brett asked, walking over to join him.
Diego inspected the tiny fragment of material he’d found caught on the brick, then looked over at Brett. “Burlap,” he said. “I think we’ve just found part of the killer’s mask.”
* * *
“I think it’s time for Lara and Scarlet to leave,” Diego said, taking his seat at Scarlet’s kitchen table.
Matt and Meg were still gone, but they weren’t expected back until later, probably not until the séance was long over.
Scarlet ordered pizza for dinner, and when it had arrived, she realized that the delivery boy was scared and eager to get away as quickly as possible. Obviously the Conway Ranch had quickly gained an unenviable reputation. She had sympathized, tipped him well and hoped, for Ben’s and Trisha’s sakes, that reputations could be unmade just as quickly.
Everything—pizza, salad and cold drinks—had been ready when Brett and Diego returned. Diego had told them right away about the scrap of burlap, which had already been sent to the lab for analysis.
She hadn’t expected such news, much less his announcement sending her away, and she suddenly felt as if they were in a war zone, and she and Lara were noncombatants who had to be evacuated as quickly as possible for their own safety.
She was ready at first to plunge right into an argument—what could happen to her when she was surrounded by agents? She even thought about getting personal and pointing out that Diego’s macho determination to be chauvinistically protective of her—when he’d actually been home, that is—had helped to end their marriage.
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