Sloan and Will hurried to the door, and Jane followed. “I’ll take one of them if they split up.”
“Let me know as soon as possible who leaves with whom,” Logan said.
The others left. Aidan continued to watch the screens. Branch slipped an arm around Jillian Durfey’s shoulders; she looked up at him gratefully.
They moved toward the elevator.
Aidan leaned forward, trying to see if he could make out any of the conversation.
“I think the big guy—Muscles, what’s his real name? Cory Stile?—is telling Branch that they need to start looking for new jobs,” Logan said. He glanced at Aidan. “I read lips—a little. I took some lessons in sign language and I worked with the deaf years ago in college.”
“What’s Branch doing? Looks like he’s arguing with him,” Aidan said.
“Branch is telling him they can’t go yet, can’t leave town, because the police need them.”
“So there is trouble among the five of them,” Aidan murmured.
“I don’t know. Branch comes across as sincere,” Logan said. “As if he wants the truth.”
“Here’s what I can’t figure out. To my mind, it had to be someone close to one or both of our victims. Someone who knew that Wendy Appleby was on her way to see Richard. And if it wasn’t someone close to Richard—then who? By all accounts, Wendy was a private person.” He sighed. “We have to keep watching this group. See what they’re up to at all times.”
“I agree,” Logan assured him.
As they studied the screen, Jillian smiled at something Magic said. They both seemed to enjoy each other.
Branch pulled Jillian closer to him.
“Hmm. We can learn a lot from body language,” Aidan murmured.
“Yup. Trouble in paradise, all right. That’s good for us,” Logan said.
Aidan’s phone rang. He didn’t look away from the screen but hit Answer. It was Van Camp. “Aidan, that boy and Ms. Howell with you?” he asked.
“Yes. Detective Voorhaven took them to the games room.”
“Good. The neighbors at the Appleby house reported a disturbance. There’s a patrol car on its way. I’m going out there, too, and I’ll meet you there.”
Logan had heard their conversation, which had been on speakerphone. “I’ll get Voorhaven back up here with Wendy and J.J. and I’ll keep them in here for now. Go.”
Aidan nodded and left.
In the lobby, he ran into Richard Highsmith’s retinue. Taylor Branch called out to him. “Agent Mahoney, what’s happening?” The man seemed to be grinning.
As if he knew something had happened.
“We just keep working,” Aidan said. “We just keep working. Good evening,” he told the others and hurried out. Maybe Branch was pleased about whatever was going on. Maybe he knew what was going on.
Well, Aidan was pleased, too. When the group left, their moves would be tracked.
The thing was...
He knew damned well that one of them had to be involved.
And that there had to be an accomplice on the outside.
But who could that second person be? Someone who knew both Richard and Wendy. Someone who’d had an agenda.
What was he missing? If he could just understand why they’d been killed, he’d be on his way to identifying the killers.
*
The night drew to an uneventful end. The last group of squealing visitors went out. They’d been a group of college-age kids, eight of them, and they’d been especially silly, screaming constantly.
Of course, “haunted” venues made their reputations on screaming and scaring, so she supposed that was good.
On the other hand, Mo was getting tired and the screaming had just seemed...
Annoying.
A voice boomed over the loudspeaker, informing them that the last group had gone through. A floodlight didn’t brighten the entire graveyard, but it did a lot to dispel the shadows—and to show the actors for what they were.
Fading.
Makeup was beginning to crack or congeal, and they were all looking a little the worse for wear.
Grace came over to Mo’s area and said with a sigh, “Another night down! At least we’re doing really well. We’ve sold out for Halloween a week early, Sondra was telling me.” She grimaced at Mo. “I’m so glad you’ve done this. You are the Woman in White, one of our most famous legends!”
Mo smiled. No, she wasn’t the Woman in White.
Phil walked over to join them, rolling his shoulders to work out muscle kinks. “You’re divine, ladies. Divine. Are we going to eat? I’m starved.”
“Sure,” Grace said. “Mo?”
Ron came out from the setup area. “Everyone accounted for?” he asked. “Me, Phil, Grace and Mo. Come on out, kiddies. I just don’t know where Sondra went. I’m dying to get out of here—no pun intended. Starved. Too bad we get off so late that even Tommy’s is closed. That means the café. Maybe Mr. FBI agent will show up at the café again, huh, Mo?”
“Let’s hope not. I don’t want anything else to be wrong anywhere,” Mo said.
Phil frowned. “You said everyone’s accounted for?” he asked Ron.