Krewe of Hunters: The Hidden Part 17

"I'm not crazy," Scarlet insisted to Meg. "I really did see him." Then she fell silent, because the others were hurrying their way.

"I love this place," Gwen said. "I'm going to read every Stephen King book I can get my hands on."

"I'm reading up on the Stanley Steamer," Charles said. "That car in the lobby is something."

"Onward to the bar," Terry said. "I need a drink after all that walking around."

Scarlet was ready to protest; she just wanted to go back.

"Wonderful," Meg said. "I'm starving. I hope they're still serving."

"I wouldn't mind something to eat myself," Adam said.

So much for going straight back to the ranch, Scarlet thought. She knew she should have been hungry herself, but she wasn't interested in food. She just wanted to get back to the Conway Ranch and-she had to admit the truth-Diego. She forced a smile and said, "Don't worry. There's always the bar menu."

In the end they opted for the dining room. The food was always good there, and their waiter entertained them with more stories of the hotel while taking their orders.

Scarlet excused herself to use the ladies' room and headed into the bar. She was almost around the bar itself when she felt a light touch on her arm.

She swung around to find the man she was starting to think of as her stalker sitting on the last stool.

She almost screamed.

"If you would just listen to me," he said. "I'm trying to help you."

Swallowing her fear, she said firmly, "Leave me the h.e.l.l alone."

The bartender swung around to look at her, as did everyone in the vicinity.

"I'm sorry," she said coolly. "But this man has been stalking me."

They stared at her, eyes widening.

She turned back to the bar stool.

There was no one there.

No one at all.

The closest person to her was an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair.

"Honey," he said, "I wish I had it in me to stalk you."

Scarlet winced. "I'm sorry," she said to him, nodding toward the empty stool. "I was talking to the man who was sitting there a moment ago."

Then she turned with what dignity she could manage and hurried toward the restroom.

9.

"We searched as best we could," Meg said to Diego. "Adam and I went through the bar, the lobby, the grounds-you name it. We looked everywhere for the guy, and we couldn't find him."

They were standing alone in the ranch car park. Diego hadn't wanted to talk in the museum, where voices might carry. And he certainly didn't want to talk at the main house, where curious minds were everywhere.

But he was concerned and wanted Meg's private take on what had happened, so they'd come out here to talk freely.

When Scarlet had greeted him on her return, she had been calm-too calm-and yet distracted, as if her thoughts were somewhere else entirely even as she spoke to him. Oddly, he'd felt as if she was burning up with submerged anger at the same time.

Anxious to find out what was going on, he'd escaped with Meg, explaining that Jane had given him something for her, but he'd left it in the car.

It had sounded lame even to him, but Scarlet hadn't seemed to notice. She'd said little except that everyone had enjoyed the tour and she'd managed not to get frantic in front of anyone except Meg after she'd seen "the stalker," as she called him now, for the second time that night at the bar.

"Did you see him, too?" Diego asked Meg.

"No, I didn't, and neither did Adam. But if he was registered for a tour or if he's a guest, we'll find out," Meg a.s.sured him. "Do you think he could be the killer?"

"I just don't know. From what Scarlet has said, he just keeps warning her to be careful."

"Plenty of killers stalk their victims and warn them."

"I know that, but I don't think our killer does anything in public that would get him noticed. Wherever he found Candace and Larry-perhaps at a tourist attraction-I think he lured them away. Because no one witnessed anything. Their pictures have run in the paper. Several shop owners and a waitress remember seeing them. But no one saw anything happen to them. Someone who warns her and disappears... I don't know. The killer has to be someone who knows the area, though, and unless you're a big believer in coincidence, he knows local history, too."

"Nathan Kendall," Meg said.

"The ghost of Nathan Kendall?" Diego asked.

"You say that as if you find it hard to believe, and yet you agreed to join the Krewe."

"I'm open to anything, Meg. I know I saw the ghosts of Miguel and Maria Gomez after the Miami zombie case. And if anyone might want justice, it's Nathan Kendall. It's not that."

"What, then?"

"It can't be the ghost of Nathan Kendall. We've all seen the statue, and it's supposed to be a perfect likeness of the real man. If her stalker looked even remotely like Nathan Kendall, Scarlet would know that and say so. Someone did a good job of scaring the h.e.l.l out of her with that statue."

"You don't think it moved on its own?" Meg asked, and he knew it was a serious question.

"I look at that thing sometimes and I could swear its expression changes. But no, I don't think it moved on its own."

"So you think someone got into the museum at night and, without being heard, wrestled that statue up the stairs and into her bedroom? Someone who intended to scare her?" Meg asked. "Someone who was alive and well?"

"I'm not sure about the 'well,' but otherwise, yes, that's exactly what I think. I think whoever did it may have been trying to make Scarlet look crazy. He could be behind the disappearing photos on her camera, too."

"So you think the real killer was trying to make it look as if she is the murderer?" Meg asked.

"Maybe. I'm hoping our techs can find out something from that camera of hers. Maybe it's just part of the killer's game-scare someone half to death and then..."

"And then what?" Meg asked. "Kill them?"

Diego nodded. "I mean, we have no idea if anything like this happened to the Parkers before they were murdered."

"We're not going to let him get close to her, Diego. One of us will stick to her like glue. She's going to be okay. She's stronger than you think. Stronger than she thinks."

"She was alone tonight," he pointed out.

"In a hotel full of people," she reminded him. "Adam and I were right there."

"I know-we just have to be closer."

Meg was studying him oddly. As if she knew something she didn't want to talk about.

"You two are getting friendly," he said.

"I like Scarlet."

He lowered his head. "She told you about our breakup, didn't she?"

"It's not my business."

"Maybe, but I suspect your opinion of me took a hit."

"I'm no different from you," she admitted. "I've been as obsessed with work as the next person, trust me. I'd never judge you because sometimes your work comes first."

"I'd say maybe people like us aren't meant for eternal bliss," Diego said drily. "Except you found Matt."

"I got lucky. We found each other. Through work, actually. I know it's more difficult when you're not both in the same line of work, though."

"True. But whatever happened, it was my fault." He took a deep breath and met her eyes. "I can't let anything happen to Scarlet, Meg. I just can't. I'm definitely not the best person in the world, but I do know that my happiness depends on hers-and on keeping her alive."

Meg smiled sympathetically. "The missed dinners were your fault. The end, not so much. You didn't know." She was quick to change the subject. "Okay, so not Nathan Kendall's ghost, but maybe someone else's."

"Possibly," Diego said. He was open-minded but still uncertain.

"Matt, Adam and I...we all think she's seeing a dead man. And the thing is, she needs to let him get close, let him talk to her. I believe he's trying to help. Your mind is more than open, you know what I'm saying is likely true."

"Yeah," Diego said. "Likely. I think we should get back inside," he said, effectively ending the conversation.

She nodded, and they started walking up the path to the museum.

Diego turned to look back at the main house. There were lights on in several of the bedrooms upstairs. It was dim on the first floor; only the night-lights were still on. "Did Brett say if all the guests were in?"

"He did," Meg said. "Everyone was out at some point tonight-including Ben and Trisha. The two of them went out to eat and were gone about an hour or so. Terry, Gwen and Charles were with us, and Gigi and Clark went to town for a meal and a trip to the pharmacy. They came back about a half hour after Ben and Trisha. Linda Reagan was gone for about two hours, apparently on a date. She said he dropped her off afterward."

"Did you see him?" Diego asked.

"No. And Angus never left the stables," Meg told him.

The museum door opened, and Brett came out, frowning as he strode over to them.

"You need to get inside, Diego," he said, his tone as serious as his expression.

"What's happened?" Diego asked anxiously.

"Nothing," Brett said quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you. It's just that the police returned the collection of antique guns about an hour ago and...well, you need to see for yourself."

Diego arched a brow to Brett and hurried past him. Inside the museum, he found Matt standing with Scarlet, who was taking a gun from a display case. She looked at Diego defensively.

"Will you tell them that I know how to shoot?" she demanded.

"You know how to shoot," he said. "But-"

"But what?" she demanded. "You all carry guns."

"Scarlet, you don't like guns."

"I like historic guns just fine."

"Not to shoot!"

"At the moment, my likes and dislikes seem to be changing."

"Scarlet, whether you can shoot or not doesn't matter. We're not going to leave you alone, so you don't need a gun," Brett said quietly.

Meg and Brett had joined them by that point, and Scarlet looked around at the whole group. "Help me out here, guys. This is not a foolish thing I'm doing. Look, I'm not going to go crazy and shoot blindly," she said, arms crossed over her chest, chin high and defiant, and narrowed eyes as sharp as a hawk's. "But I'm not going to be a victim, either. This guy is following me. And I'm going to be prepared. I'm very grateful that you're all here, but you have a murderer to catch, and I don't want to be a burden. So what if I want to carry a gun? You all do."

"We all have permits," Diego reminded her.

"I won't carry it as a concealed weapon. I'll keep it ready here, so I'm able to use it if I have to, or if it seems there might be trouble, I'll carry it openly. The state only requires a permit for concealed carry," she said. She stared at him hard. "I'm good. I just want to have a gun available to me in case something none of us expect happens and I run into this guy alone. I'm not going to let myself be dragged through the forest and up the mountain."

They were all silent, not sure what to say.

"Look, here's the one I'm going to take," she said. "It's a modified Colt six-shooter from the 1880s. Ben said it's okay, and it's in good working order. That's why I chose it. I have bullets, and I won't even load it unless it's necessary, unless I'm alone or out in the forest or something. Okay?"

Diego knew they were all waiting for him to speak. The thing was, she did know what she was doing with a gun, especially an antique. Part of that was his doing-she'd been to the shooting range with him several times-and the other part of it was her love of history.

It was just that she'd always hated them.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay?" she questioned warily.

"Yes, take it. But you do have to get a concealed-carry permit. We're the FBI. We can't have you breaking any laws. All right?"

"Tomorrow. I'll get a permit tomorrow," she promised.