The Hidden

“In a few minutes. I just need a little time alone first.”


“All right,” Brett said. He walked over and made sure that the door was locked and that the “armed” light on the alarm was blinking as it should be.

When he was gone, she stood alone in the museum. She looked around at the display cases and the many mannequins.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, thinking of all the tragedy that had invaded Nathan’s life and the lives of so many of his descendants now.

She felt Daniel’s presence even before he spoke to her.

“Do you play the slot machines?” he asked her.

“Pardon?” She frowned as she stared at him. He was good; he looked as solid as any man on the street.

He smiled. “Slots. I love them. Loved them, that is. And they have all kinds of bonuses that really increase your payoff. But the thing is, there’s no way to walk into a casino and know that a slot machine is ready to give. You can sit at one forever and ever, and that bonus just won’t kick in. Other times, you just sit down and the bonus triggers and triggers and triggers. And the thing is, life is like that. Some men just touch money and it makes more money. They get sick, but they always get well. Some people do atrocious things to others and get away with it. Sometimes your life is like the machine that pays off nonstop. Other lives, there just isn’t going to be a bonus. That was me, Scarlet. And Cassandra,” he added softly. “We just weren’t meant to have a bonus.”

“Oh, Daniel, I’m so sorry. But,” she said, and then hesitated. “You are here—as a ghost, true, but still you’re here. We’re talking. You met Cassandra. Maybe life is like a slot machine. Your first life wasn’t your day for the bonus. But now you have another life, and maybe this time you’ll get the bonus.”

He grinned. “I wish I could give you a hug,” he said. Then he went quiet and nodded toward the stairs and the pedestal where Nathan’s statue stood. “He’s here,” he said quietly.

Scarlet turned and stared at the mannequin. As she watched, Nathan Kendall stepped around it and started walking toward her.

“Hello, Nathan,” she said quietly.

He looked at her for a long moment. Then his eyes narrowed as he turned and stared at Daniel.

Daniel grinned. “Hey, Gramps!” he said.

Scarlet ignored Daniel and addressed Nathan. “You’ve been here all along, haven’t you?”

He nodded.

“Do you move the mannequin?” she asked. “Not up the stairs—we know Terry did that. But when it fell over, that was you, wasn’t it?”

Nathan seemed to wince. He nodded. She realized that he’d been there for years and years, watching and waiting, but apparently he’d never tried to communicate before. He might be an old ghost, but he wasn’t at all a practiced ghost.

He was a ghost, just as Daniel was. But the spirit that remained was the essence of the man, and some men were outgoing, like Daniel, and others were introverted, dealing privately with the demons that had plagued their lives, and clearly Nathan was the latter.

She smiled and moved closer to him. “You’ve been trying to help us, haven’t you? You pushed your statue over because you were trying to tell us that what’s happening now is connected to what happened to you.”

“Yes,” he said, and his voice was like the wind blowing over brittle leaves in winter. “I can push,” he said, and he almost managed a smile. “But I cannot carry.”

“It’s all right, we know that Terry moved the statue upstairs,” she said. “But what we don’t know and hope you do is who killed you. Was it Rollo?”

She knew that it was painful for him to speak, but she felt she had no choice but to press him. This was important. Crucial.