“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.
He nodded.
“Well, then, that’s that,” Scarlet said, smiling in satisfaction as she carefully collected the bullets for the Colt. “By the way, how’s your friend?”
For a moment Diego had no idea what she was talking about. “My friend?”
“The woman you and Matt picked up at the airport tonight. Jane Everett. Is she here?”
“Not yet, though she will be. Right now she’s at the morgue, working,” Diego said. “We tried to talk her into waiting ’til morning, but she was eager to get started. She’ll have a likeness for us by morning.”
“Wow,” Scarlet said. “I’m impressed.” She started up the stairs, and the others followed. He could tell they were all still a little worried about Scarlet carrying a gun. But he’d spent days teaching her not only to shoot, but also all about gun safety, and if he hadn’t trusted her to handle a weapon he would have objected to her having one.
“Would anyone like tea?” Scarlet asked when they got up to the kitchen. “Hot chocolate? Something stronger?”
No one spoke.
Scarlet stiffened. “What? You think I’m overreacting, don’t you? That all this has driven me crazy, maybe even made me dangerous.”
“No, no!” Meg protested.
“Scarlet, it’s not that,” Diego said.
“Then what?” she asked in confusion.
“We think you saw a dead man in town, and at the cemetery and The Stanley,” Diego said flatly.
She stared at him then as if he’d lost his mind.
“Look, I know all about your ‘zombie’ case in Miami. This guy wasn’t lurching around, half-decayed and talking about brains.”
“That’s not what Diego meant,” Meg said quietly.
“What are you talking about, then?” Scarlet demanded.
“We think you’re seeing a ghost,” Diego said.
“Okay. Stop. I’ve spent half my adult life digging up old burial sites. My idea of the perfect vacation is exploring the pyramids at Giza, and the catacombs in Rome and Paris. I don’t see ghosts!” She sat down in a huff.
“I never saw them myself—until they needed me,” Brett said, taking the chair opposite her.
Meg sat down, too, looking at Scarlet with her eyes serious. “Scarlet, it began for me at a traumatic period during my childhood. It works that way for a lot of us. But sometimes it happens the way Brett said. Someone has the ability but it’s dormant, for lack of a better word, until it’s needed. Until a ghost needs our help.”
Scarlet looked from Meg to Diego. “You’re suggesting that a ghost is trying to talk to me. Do you also th
ink a ghost killed those people? And that Nathan Kendall’s ghost possessed that statue and walked up the stairs and into my bedroom?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Brett said. “That statue is far too heavy for a ghost to lift.”
“Not any ghost I’ve ever encountered, and that’s quite a few,” Meg said.
Scarlet sat back. “You’re crazy. You’re all crazy. I’ve begged crazy people to come out here and help me.”
“Scarlet,” Diego said, “it’s not crazy. It’s true.”
“So you really do think that a ghost stole an antique Colt from the museum, and killed Candace and Larry Parker?”
“No, not at all,” Matt said. “I’m quite certain they were murdered by a living person.”
“That’s a relief. No, it’s not. I mean, do you all really believe in ghosts?” Scarlet asked, looking from one of them to the next. Her gaze stopped when she met Diego’s eyes.
“Yes,” he said flatly. “The thing is, I know you’re afraid of this ‘stalker.’ And he may be alive and someone we need to watch for carefully. But he also may be someone who—alive or dead—can help us.”
“You really are serious,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “And Adam—is this what he believes, too?”
“Adam created the Krewe precisely because he believes in possibilities exactly like this,” Meg said.
“So basically, you think I want to arm myself against a ghost?” Scarlet said.
“Uh-huh,” Meg said.
“Okay, I’ll take that under consideration,” Scarlet said. She smiled suddenly. “So...anyone up for something to drink?”
“I’m ready for bed, to tell you the truth,” Meg said, looking at Matt, who smiled and held out his hand to her.
“Same here,” Brett said. “Good night all.”
“We’ll make sure the alarm is set,” Matt said, turning with Meg to head back down the stairs.
Diego was left alone in the kitchen with Scarlet. She looked at him skeptically, and he wondered if he had suddenly grown horns.
“What we’re telling you is true,” he said quietly.
She stood and walked into the bedroom. He hesitated for a moment, then turned out the kitchen light, checked the living room to make sure everything was in order and followed her. Her lights were out, and she was already in bed. He wondered if she had crawled in fully dressed.
“I can take the couch, if you want,” he told her.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“You’re upset.”
“Yep,” she said.
But as he waited in the doorway, she suddenly got out from under the covers.
She wasn’t fully dressed. In fact, she was totally naked.
The slight moon glow seeping in through the curtains highlighted the sleekness of her body like an opal mist. She walked over to the doorway and slipped an arm around his neck, then whispered huskily, “I hear that upset sex is incredibly hot.”
He smiled, then found her lips with his. He indulged in a slow, simmering, hungry kiss before lifting his mouth from hers.
“I feel so used,” he whispered.
“I’ll use you well,” she promised.
“Promises, promises,” he said.
He lifted her and the feel of her naked body against him fed the searing need that ripped through his body. He set her on the comforter and started to undress. Suddenly she was kneeling in front of him, pulling at the buckle of his belt. Her lips and tongue teased at the flesh of his belly, and he quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes and took her in his arms again, rolling with her onto the bed. She found her way on top and proceeded to kiss and tongue her way across his chest, then moved her way downward.
She suddenly sat bolt upright, grasping for the covers.
“What?” he demanded.
“Diego, ghosts—they don’t... Oh, my God! Are we being watched? By a ghost?”
His rigid body tightened a notch, yet somehow he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “From everything the others have told me, ghosts tend to be polite and discreet. They aren’t voyeurs out to make secret sex tapes.”
“Are you sure?” she demanded.
She was still straddling him, back erect, breasts firm, nipples aroused. She was like an Amazon warrior, proud and alert and ready to do battle.
“I’m positive.”
He sat up and pulled her back into his arms.
They could both be the aggressor in sex, and she’d been doing a magnificent job, but he wasn’t about to lose the moment.
He rolled her beneath him and caught her lips with his mouth, her hands with his, and he turned the tide, pressing kisses down her throat and her breasts, her abdomen and below, until she writhed and whispered his name.
And forgot about ghosts.
They made love until the wee hours.
Upset love proved to be incredibly hot indeed.
* * *
It was still early when Diego’s phone vibrated under his pillow, where he’d put it before finally going to sleep. He glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was only seven thirty.
“McCullough,” he answered quickly, keeping his voice low.
“It’s Jane. I’m sorry to be calling so early, but I received a call from your friend Lieutenant Gray last night. He asked if the police could have my rendering as soon as I had something. He wants to get it into the papers. I figured you and the rest of the Krewe would want first look.”
“Yes, thank you. Where are you? Still at the morgue?”
“Just heading up to the ranch. Adam said I’ll be staying in the main house.”
“Yes, but come to the museum first. It’s to the left of the parking lot, but there’s a sign that says Conway Ranch Museum, so you won’t have any trouble finding it.”
“Thanks,” she told him. “Be there soon.”
He hung up and bolted out of bed, heading straight to the shower. Scarlet didn’t stir. Only when he was dressed did he wake her.
She blinked and stared at him with groggy eyes.
“Jane is on her way with her rendering of the man killed up on the mountain. Feel free to go back to sleep if you want. One of us will stay with you. We won’t leave you here alone, even if you do have a gun now.”
“No, no, I’m up.”
She jumped up and ducked beneath his arm, then grabbed her robe and ran for the shower. Diego headed out to the kitchen to brew coffee.
It was already done. Brett was up.
“Jane is on her way,” Diego told him.
“Good. I’m anxious to see what she’s come up with. If we can ID the guy, maybe we can find out if his death is related to the Parkers’.”
“I think I’ll give Lieutenant Gray a call while we’re waiting,” Diego said.
“I talked to him last night when he returned the museum’s gun collection. They’ve questioned the guests who left the ranch right after the murders. A banker from Pittsburgh, and his wife and daughter. A family from New York who had never been west of Chicago. Nothing suspicious about any of them, and none of them saw anything suspicious, either.”
Diego nodded and made a call.
“Lieutenant Gray.”
“It’s Diego McCullough. Just wanted to check in with you and let you know our artist will have something for you soon. Anything new on your end? Besides none of the other ranch guests having anything useful to add.”
Gray sounded frustrated. “Nothing. I’ve questioned half of Estes Park. No one saw the Parkers leave with anyone. No one has found their car. The forensic team has given me diddly-squat. You?”
“We’re hoping the picture will help in linking the cases, or even help us prove there’s no connection,” Diego said.
“That’s it? That’s al
l the FBI has got?”
“At the moment. Thanks for returning the museum’s gun collection.”
“Still no sign of the murder weapon, but the rest are all clean. Under the circumstances, I’m sure you understand why we’re looking at anyone associated with the ranch.”
“Same here.”
“The murder weapon...who knows when it was stolen. If it was stolen.”
“So your top suspects are the Kendalls—and my wife,” Diego said.
“I thought she was your ex-wife, but...whatever. If she’s guilty, then—”
“You know she was in town.”
“Maybe she slipped back up the mountain.”
“I think she parked in a municipal lot. You can probably document that,” Diego said.
“Get me that picture as soon as you can,” Gray said.
Diego hung up.
Brett had been watching him the whole time. “Since we know it’s not Scarlet—Ben or Trisha? Or someone else here?”
“Ben did find the bodies, and everyone else seems to have an alibi for the time of the murders,” Diego said. “Anyway, I’m going to head outside to meet Jane when she arrives.”
“I’m going back on the computer—see if we’ve missed anything on Ben and Trisha,” Brett said. “I’ll call HQ, too—tell them to dig deeper.” He hesitated. “Ben did have access to the museum and the Colt that killed the Parkers.”
“I’m surprised Gray hasn’t arrested him already. He brought Scarlet in just for having pictures on her camera.”
“Pictures Ben told him about,” Brett reminded him.
“True,” Diego said. “But do you really see him being capable of it? He’s not a young man.”
“It doesn’t take a young man to pull a trigger.”
“Yes, but Larry Parker was strung up a tree. That takes strength.”
“Maybe Ben and Trisha are a pair of psychopathic killers,” Brett said.
Diego let that thought settle, trying to envision the two of them slinking into town, somehow getting the Parkers alone, then dragging or forcing them up the hill. “He’s living his dream in his ancestral home. Are you saying his dream was to re-create his ancestors’ deaths?”