The Hidden

Meg smiled sympathetically. “The missed dinners were your fault. The end, not so much. You didn’t know.” She was quick to change the subject. “Okay, so not Nathan Kendall’s ghost, but maybe someone else’s.”


“Possibly,” Diego said. He was open-minded but still uncertain.

“Matt, Adam and I...we all think she’s seeing a dead man. And the thing is, she needs to let him get close, let him talk to her. I believe he’s trying to help. Your mind is more than open, you know what I’m saying is likely true.”

“Yeah,” Diego said. “Likely. I think we should get back inside,” he said, effectively ending the conversation.

She nodded, and they started walking up the path to the museum.

Diego turned to look back at the main house. There were lights on in several of the bedrooms upstairs. It was dim on the first floor; only the night-lights were still on. “Did Brett say if all the guests were in?”

“He did,” Meg said. “Everyone was out at some point tonight—including Ben and Trisha. The two of them went out to eat and were gone about an hour or so. Terry, Gwen and Charles were with us, and Gigi and Clark went to town for a meal and a trip to the pharmacy. They came back about a half hour after Ben and Trisha. Linda Reagan was gone for about two hours, apparently on a date. She said he dropped her off afterward.”

“Did you see him?” Diego asked.

“No. And Angus never left the stables,” Meg told him.

The museum door opened, and Brett came out, frowning as he strode over to them.

“You need to get inside, Diego,” he said, his tone as serious as his expression.

“What’s happened?” Diego asked anxiously.

“Nothing,” Brett said quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that the police returned the collection of antique guns about an hour ago and...well, you need to see for yourself.”

Diego arched a brow to Brett and hurried past him. Inside the museum, he found Matt standing with Scarlet, who was taking a gun from a display case. She looked at Diego defensively.

“Will you tell them that I know how to shoot?” she demanded.

“You know how to shoot,” he said. “But—”

“But what?” she demanded. “You all carry guns.”

“Scarlet, you don’t like guns.”

“I like historic guns just fine.”

“Not to shoot!”

“At the moment, my likes and dislikes seem to be changing.”

“Scarlet, whether you can shoot or not doesn’t matter. We’re not going to leave you alone, so you don’t need a gun,” Brett said quietly.

Meg and Brett had joined them by that point, and Scarlet looked around at the whole group. “Help me out here, guys. This is not a foolish thing I’m doing. Look, I’m not going to go crazy and shoot blindly,” she said, arms crossed over her chest, chin high and defiant, and narrowed eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. “But I’m not going to be a victim, either. This guy is following me. And I’m going to be prepared. I’m very grateful that you’re all here, but you have a murderer to catch, and I don’t want to be a burden. So what if I want to carry a gun? You all do.”

“We all have permits,” Diego reminded her.

“I won’t carry it as a concealed weapon. I’ll keep it ready here, so I’m able to use it if I have to, or if it seems there might be trouble, I’ll carry it openly. The state only requires a permit for concealed carry,” she said. She stared at him hard. “I’m good. I just want to have a gun available to me in case something none of us expect happens and I run into this guy alone. I’m not going to let myself be dragged through the forest and up the mountain.”

They were all silent, not sure what to say.