The Hidden

“I love this place,” Gwen said. “I’m going to read every Stephen King book I can get my hands on.”


“I’m reading up on the Stanley Steamer,” Charles said. “That car in the lobby is something.”

“Onward to the bar,” Terry said. “I need a drink after all that walking around.”

Scarlet was ready to protest; she just wanted to go back.

“Wonderful,” Meg said. “I’m starving. I hope they’re still serving.”

“I wouldn’t mind something to eat myself,” Adam said.

So much for going straight back to the ranch, Scarlet thought. She knew she should have been hungry herself, but she wasn’t interested in food. She just wanted to get back to the Conway Ranch and—she had to admit the truth—Diego. She forced a smile and said, “Don’t worry. There’s always the bar menu.”

In the end they opted for the dining room. The food was always good there, and their waiter entertained them with more stories of the hotel while taking their orders.

Scarlet excused herself to use the ladies’ room and headed into the bar. She was almost around the bar itself when she felt a light touch on her arm.

She swung around to find the man she was starting to think of as her stalker sitting on the last stool.

She almost screamed.

“If you would just listen to me,” he said. “I’m trying to help you.”

Swallowing her fear, she said firmly, “Leave me the hell alone.”

The bartender swung around to look at her, as did everyone in the vicinity.

“I’m sorry,” she said coolly. “But this man has been stalking me.”

They stared at her, eyes widening.

She turned back to the bar stool.

There was no one there.

No one at all.

The closest person to her was an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair.

“Honey,” he said, “I wish I had it in me to stalk you.”

Scarlet winced. “I’m sorry,” she said to him, nodding toward the empty stool. “I was talking to the man who was sitting there a moment ago.”

Then she turned with what dignity she could manage and hurried toward the restroom.





9

“We searched as best we could,” Meg said to Diego. “Adam and I went through the bar, the lobby, the grounds—you name it. We looked everywhere for the guy, and we couldn’t find him.”

They were standing alone in the ranch car park. Diego hadn’t wanted to talk in the museum, where voices might carry. And he certainly didn’t want to talk at the main house, where curious minds were everywhere.

But he was concerned and wanted Meg’s private take on what had happened, so they’d come out here to talk freely.

When Scarlet had greeted him on her return, she had been calm—too calm—and yet distracted, as if her thoughts were somewhere else entirely even as she spoke to him. Oddly, he’d felt as if she was burning up with submerged anger at the same time.

Anxious to find out what was going on, he’d escaped with Meg, explaining that Jane had given him something for her, but he’d left it in the car.

It had sounded lame even to him, but Scarlet hadn’t seemed to notice. She’d said little except that everyone had enjoyed the tour and she’d managed not to get frantic in front of anyone except Meg after she’d seen “the stalker,” as she called him now, for the second time that night at the bar.

“Did you see him, too?” Diego asked Meg.

“No, I didn’t, and neither did Adam. But if he was registered for a tour or if he’s a guest, we’ll find out,” Meg assured him. “Do you think he could be the killer?”

“I just don’t know. From what Scarlet has said, he just keeps warning her to be careful.”