The Hidden

“I don’t think he fought any Indians,” Scarlet said.

“Still, can you imagine?” Daniel asked. “A lot of this area is so pristine and beautiful. But a moose—even a pissed-off elk—can kill a man. And don’t forget the bears. Not to mention there wasn’t any real law. Think how dark it is out here at night now, how the forest seems to stretch forever. Those guys had to be pretty hardy. There was no road out here or anything. Stanley was responsible for the first decent road to Estes Park.”

“Have you researched Rollo Conway?” Meg asked Scarlet.

“I have what information there is. He didn’t fight for the North or the South in the Civil War. He was already out here when the fighting began. He was originally from Massachusetts. There are records of him having property here and a bit south. I don’t believe he ever found the gold he was looking for.”

“What about the woman back East?” Daniel asked.

“I’ve never found any record of her. That doesn’t mean that she didn’t exist, of course. They didn’t keep great records back then to begin with, and lots of what they did have was lost over the years.”

“Back to the important stuff,” Daniel said. “If it wasn’t Billie Merton or Brian Gleason who killed Nathan and Jillian—and yes, I know we still can’t say for sure about Gleason—then if it wasn’t some stranger, that leaves the last of Nathan’s outlaw pals, Jeff Bay, or his father-in-law, cold as ice in any book.”

“Or Rollo Conway,” Scarlet mused. “But if it was Rollo, why? He needed money, so he wanted to sell the property and Nathan bought it. Nathan did him a favor.”

“Maybe he resented Nathan for having the money to buy it when he didn’t really want to sell it,” Daniel suggested.

“The way Nathan was killed, I can’t help but think that someone wanted something from him. But what?” Scarlet asked.

“Scenario one, it was the father-in-law,” Daniel said. “He was torturing Nathan to get him to tell the truth about his past, so he could prove to his daughter that Nathan was worthless trash. Jillian comes running out of the house to see what’s going on, and he whirls around, startled, and—bang! She’s dead.”

“Scenario two,” Meg said. “Jeff Bay. Brian and Bill are dead. But back in the day they stole something valuable, and Jeff thinks Nathan still has it. He tortures Nathan, Jillian walks in on the scene—bang! She’s dead.”

“Scenario three,” Scarlet said. “Rollo Conway. But why? Killing Nathan won’t get his land back. If Rollo did it, there had to be a reason, but I have no idea what it could have been.”

“Are all the journals here?” Meg asked. “The man was certainly prolific.”

“There are a lot of them, but I’ve always thought we were missing one. There’s a gap between the last one and the one before it. He makes references in the last one to a disturbing visit, but he never says from who it was, and there’s nothing in the previous one that qualifies. Now, of course, I’m thinking it was the killer.”

They were all startled—even Daniel, who was dead!—by a sudden whoosh followed by a jolting thud.

Scarlet’s heart leaped to her throat. Meg was on her feet in a split second, her Glock out of its holster and trained across the room.

There was silence.

Then Scarlet realized what had happened.

It was the statue. The damned statue of Nathan Kendall.

It had fallen off its pedestal to the floor.

*

“To the best of my knowledge, everyone was accounted for after our trip to The Stanley. But I can’t swear to that,” Brett said.