The Hidden

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m Scarlet Barlow. I work at the museum and live above it. What’s happened?” she asked anxiously. “Ben and Trisha. Are they okay?”

He nodded to her gravely. “Yes, the owners are all right.”

“What’s happened?” she persisted.

“May I have your ID, please?”

She handed it over. He looked from it to her, aiming his flashlight at her face and making her blink.

“Says here your name is McCullough.”

“I’m divorced. I haven’t changed my ID yet,” she told him. “See? My license says Scarlet Barlow McCullough.”

He was looking at her as if she was a hardened criminal. “They’re definitely going to want to talk to you,” he said.

“They?”

“The detectives.”

“But—”

“You’re the one with the camera. The one who took pictures of dead people. The pictures that mysteriously disappeared, right?” he asked, his voice hard-edged.

“Someone messed with my camera, yes, but I don’t see why that calls for police response.”

“Really? Not when two people have been murdered exactly the way your boss says they were in the pictures you showed him? Park your car, please, then follow me. Lieutenant Gray is going to want to see you, pronto.”

*

Scarlet had advanced degrees in history and archaeology; she had worked at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and on an important dig in South Florida. She was bright, fun, cheerful, beautiful and eager for whatever life brought.

She did not tend to hysteria or tears.

Given all that, Diego wasn’t sure how or why he knew instinctively when he answered the phone that she was going to be on the other end.

They were having a small farewell party for Brett at Sea Life, the dolphin facility where Lara Mayhew worked. Brett was flying to DC the next day for orientation. There was talk of him setting up a small Miami office for the Krewe, and if that happened Diego thought maybe he would take them up on their invitation, after all. Meanwhile, he had a party to enjoy.

The food had been catered and set up outside under a large tent. They’d visited the dolphins down at the lagoon earlier, and now everyone was just talking idly.

And yet, when his phone rang, Diego was instantly alert, somehow sure it was going to be his ex-wife.

She’d moved to Colorado, and he hadn’t let her see the ache in his heart when she’d told him she was going.

“Scarlet?” he said without even looking at the caller ID, stepping out into the darkness beneath a sea grape tree.

“Diego, yes, it’s me.”

“How are you? Are you all right?” he asked her anxiously.

“I’m...oh, Diego, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m in real trouble.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” She sounded indignant, even angry.

That was good, he thought. “Then what happened?”

“Two people were murdered, and they think...they think I was involved!”

“Why?”

“My camera. The views here are gorgeous, so I bought a good camera at the Miami airport before my flight out. It was working fine, but then today it took pictures of things that weren’t there. Bodies. Dead bodies. And then they disappeared.”

“The bodies?”

“The pictures!” she said. “The thing is, Ben saw them. Ben Kendall, my boss. He didn’t mean to get me in trouble, he was just so stunned when the bodies were found that he blurted it out about the pictures without thinking. They were killed right here at the ranch. They weren’t guests, and so far no one knows who they are or why they were here. From what I saw on the camera and what the cops have said, the man was cut to shreds and shot, and the woman was just shot. And they think I did it! It’s horrible. And now I’m at the police station, and all I could think to do was call you.”