The Hidden

Scarlet knew the cemetery, having been up to visit it several times.

Once upon a time there had been wrought-iron fencing surrounding the whole of the place, which covered a bit more than half an acre. The gate, decorated with ornate ironwork, was unnecessary at this point, since most of the fencing was long gone.

The sun slipped behind a cloud as they gathered in the cemetery. The chill in the air, the sudden onset of a mist that softened all the details of the scene, seemed perfect for such an excursion.

Scarlet wasn’t sure why, but she walked straight over to a large obelisk.

It was new. Ben had arranged to have it installed just a year ago.

It had been erected near the original headstones for Nathan and Jillian. Scarlet knew that the stones themselves were special; many of the graves were marked only by wooden crosses, which were periodically replaced by a women’s historical society. There were also three decrepit mausoleums on the property, and half a dozen concrete sarcophagi.

The remote location made such monuments a rarity, proof that only those with money could afford to bury their dead for eternity, or a few centuries anyway.

She walked over to the Kendalls’ original gravestones and knelt down beside them. She’d seen them on her previous visits, and they hadn’t changed. Had she expected them to?

Presumably Jillian’s father, the United States marshal, had ordered the tombstones for his daughter and son-in-law. Maybe he had shown equal regard for Nathan because he was raising the man’s son, or maybe he hadn’t wanted to increase his neighbors’ suspicions that he was behind the murders by slighting him. Except for the names and dates of birth, both tombstones read the same:

Young, beautiful, on the path to good, six feet under in boxes of wood. Let their souls soar to the greatest height, let their love rise up to the brightest light.

“Really lovely—especially since the father-in-law was a suspect in the murders,” Meg said from behind her.

Scarlet shook her head. “I just can’t believe the man could have killed his own daughter.”

“Could have been one of his ex-comrades from the war and his marauding days,” Meg mused.

“Or a madman from anywhere around here whose crimes are being replicated now,” Matt said, looking higher.

Scarlet followed his gaze. They could see great peaks of the Rockies rising around them. Some had slopes where the trees were still a rich green, while others were turning, glowing with stunning fall colors.

But all the peaks were already covered in snow.

As she looked out, she saw something moving in her peripheral vision.

An elk? More pheasants?

A cloud moved; the sun rose higher.

For a moment the day was bright.

And in that light, leaning against a tree, Scarlet saw the man who had stopped her in town the night she had gone to dinner—before she’d known that anyone had been killed.

She stood quickly, staring at him. “Wait!” she cried, rushing toward the trees.

The sun shifted again. The man was gone.

“Scarlet, what is it?” Diego asked, instantly at her side.

“The guy who was bugging me the other night,” she said indignantly. “He followed us up here! But, how the hell...? Or maybe, he’s the kind of ghoul who hangs around in cemeteries for fun.”

Of course, she was hanging around in a cemetery herself.

Diego was already heading into the trees, closely followed by Matt and Brett.

Meg stayed behind with her and Angus.

Scarlet noticed that they never left her alone—not even in hot pursuit.

“What’s going on?” Angus asked, baffled. “Ben owns this land, but he doesn’t care if people come up here. People can still be buried here, if they want.”

“I just saw someone who—” Scarlet broke off. “I met him in town the other night, and he was just creepy, that’s all.”

“The guys will just make sure he’s not up to anything,” Meg promised.