Deadly Fate (Krewe of Hunters #19)

Thor knew about the Archangel case.

And knew that the Archangel was dead. He couldn’t help but wish that the same was true of the Fairy Tale Killer.

“So where do we go from here? Send the TV and ship’s entertainment people all home?” Mike asked.

“None of them actually has a home in Alaska. The film crew would go back to the Nordic Lights Hotel. Where has the cruise line lodged its performers and staff?” Thor asked.

“Celtic American uses the Hawthorne—about a block down from the other hotel,” Mike said. “I’m assuming that, from what we’ve seen, the killer’s focus is on the film crew and not the Celtic American people. They had to have been targeted—I think we’d all agree on that.”

“They’re scared. All scared,” Jackson said. “I’m pretty sure they’ll all do anything we ask.”

“You’re thinking about keeping them here?” Thor asked.

“One of them may be in on this somehow,” Jackson said.

“So they need to be watched,” Thor said flatly. “This TV and entertainment group could still be in danger, here on the island. So, here we are. We all know the situation, and why we’re looking for a needle in a haystack. Even Miss Avery pointed all this out. Parts of the island are covered with thick woods. There are massive glacial cutouts along the shoreline allowing for a multitude of caves and caverns. State police and forensic crews have been out there all day. But the geography here is such that someone might well be hiding on the island. We haven’t found a damned thing. They haven’t been able to give us anything from the mainland.”

“It’s only been, what, about ten or twelve hours?” Jackson asked.

“About twelve since we walked into the hotel this morning,” Mike said. “And a long time for scared civilians. We’re going to have to arrange for Coast Guard vessels to get everyone back.” He looked over at Jackson, and shook his head slightly. “Director Enfield said you weren’t taking over the investigation from our end, but—are you?”

“No,” Jackson said. “I don’t know Alaska. You two do.”

“But you had to have been on a plane two seconds after reports of Natalie Fontaine’s murder hit the system this morning.”

Jackson nodded. “Yeah. I guess I was waiting to hear about something. Natalie Fontaine’s murder coincided with Tate Morley escaping. I guess I’m here on a hunch,” he said, looking over at Thor.

Thor smiled ruefully and told his old partner, “I had a dream last night—a nightmare, I guess one would say.”

That caused Jackson to look at Mike again and speak carefully.

“About the Fairy Tale victims?” he asked.

“Yep.”

Jackson nodded. “Yeah, well, I woke up shaking myself.”

Mike was studying Jackson. Jackson looked back at him. “You’re about to ask me something. As in, do I head a unit of ghost hunters?”

Mike grinned. “No, actually, from all I’ve heard, you do lead a unit of ghost hunters.”

“What were you going to ask?” Jackson asked him.

“Sioux?” Mike said.

Jackson shook his head. “Cheyenne. My dad’s side. Why?”

Mike shrugged. “No reason. Except pride. Inuit, here. Old Thor’s got some in him, too, though you’d never know it from that thatch of platinum on his head. It’s just that I think our Native American people are more open to—well, shamans have always been more into reading dreams than priests. Quite frankly, the Russian influence here brought about a ton of people belonging to their Orthodox church, but...hey, maybe it’s the in thing these days to be more native. Anyway, if you two saw something in a dream—hell, I’m up to believing it.”

Jackson laughed. “Honestly? I had a Scottish grandmother more into the spiritual world than my dad’s family, and whatever works, that’s what I believe in.”

“That works for me. But let’s just lay it all out. Bring me up to speed,” Mike said. “Thor and I have been partners for a few years. I know his intuitions are damned good, and I don’t know if he’s listening to the spirit of an ancestor, a voice in the wind or his own gut. I just know that it’s worth paying attention to the voices—wherever the hell they come from.”

Thor looked at Jackson. “You dreamed about Mandy Brandt,” he said.

Jackson nodded.

“Same dream,” Thor said.

“I see you in front of me and I see him, Tate Morley, and the way he was standing over Mandy Brandt. I hear the sound...you shooting Tate Morley. And I can’t help but wonder if we wouldn’t be plagued by the dreams—if it wouldn’t have been better—if we hadn’t done the right thing and called for an ambulance.”