The Hidden

“Plenty of killers stalk their victims and warn them.”


“I know that, but I don’t think our killer does anything in public that would get him noticed. Wherever he found Candace and Larry—perhaps at a tourist attraction—I think he lured them away. Because no one witnessed anything. Their pictures have run in the paper. Several shop owners and a waitress remember seeing them. But no one saw anything happen to them. Someone who warns her and disappears... I don’t know. The killer has to be someone who knows the area, though, and unless you’re a big believer in coincidence, he knows local history, too.”

“Nathan Kendall,” Meg said.

“The ghost of Nathan Kendall?” Diego asked.

“You say that as if you find it hard to believe, and yet you agreed to join the Krewe.”

“I’m open to anything, Meg. I know I saw the ghosts of Miguel and Maria Gomez after the Miami zombie case. And if anyone might want justice, it’s Nathan Kendall. It’s not that.”

“What, then?”

“It can’t be the ghost of Nathan Kendall. We’ve all seen the statue, and it’s supposed to be a perfect likeness of the real man. If her stalker looked even remotely like Nathan Kendall, Scarlet would know that and say so. Someone did a good job of scaring the hell out of her with that statue.”

“You don’t think it moved on its own?” Meg asked, and he knew it was a serious question.

“I look at that thing sometimes and I could swear its expression changes. But no, I don’t think it moved on its own.”

“So you think someone got into the museum at night and, without being heard, wrestled that statue up the stairs and into her bedroom? Someone who intended to scare her?” Meg asked. “Someone who was alive and well?”

“I’m not sure about the ‘well,’ but otherwise, yes, that’s exactly what I think. I think whoever did it may have been trying to make Scarlet look crazy. He could be behind the disappearing photos on her camera, too.”

“So you think the real killer was trying to make it look as if she is the murderer?” Meg asked.

“Maybe. I’m hoping our techs can find out something from that camera of hers. Maybe it’s just part of the killer’s game—scare someone half to death and then...”

“And then what?” Meg asked. “Kill them?”

Diego nodded. “I mean, we have no idea if anything like this happened to the Parkers before they were murdered.”

“We’re not going to let him get close to her, Diego. One of us will stick to her like glue. She’s going to be okay. She’s stronger than you think. Stronger than she thinks.”

“She was alone tonight,” he pointed out.

“In a hotel full of people,” she reminded him. “Adam and I were right there.”

“I know—we just have to be closer.”

Meg was studying him oddly. As if she knew something she didn’t want to talk about.

“You two are getting friendly,” he said.

“I like Scarlet.”

He lowered his head. “She told you about our breakup, didn’t she?”

“It’s not my business.”

“Maybe, but I suspect your opinion of me took a hit.”

“I’m no different from you,” she admitted. “I’ve been as obsessed with work as the next person, trust me. I’d never judge you because sometimes your work comes first.”

“I’d say maybe people like us aren’t meant for eternal bliss,” Diego said drily. “Except you found Matt.”

“I got lucky. We found each other. Through work, actually. I know it’s more difficult when you’re not both in the same line of work, though.”

“True. But whatever happened, it was my fault.” He took a deep breath and met her eyes. “I can’t let anything happen to Scarlet, Meg. I just can’t. I’m definitely not the best person in the world, but I do know that my happiness depends on hers—and on keeping her alive.”