The Hidden. Heather Graham
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Ben called as she heard the museum door open.
At that moment her cell phone rang. Diego.
An hour, just one hour, and he would be there!
She ran back down the stairs and through the museum, breathless as she came face-to-face with Ben.
He looked at her with surprise. “I woke you up. I’m so sorry. I forgot how late it was when we got in. I just came by to make sure you really are okay after yesterday.”
“I’m fine. What about you and Trisha?”
He nodded. “We’re going to be okay, though with the news rocketing around town and a cop car in front of the house, we won’t be too busy for a while.”
“Everything will be all right eventually, Ben, I promise. They’ll catch the person who did this and prove it had nothing to do with the ranch, and everything will go back to normal. Just hang in there, okay?” she added quietly.
He grinned ruefully. “I was a stockbroker, remember? I’m used to life on the roller coaster. We’ll be good. It’s just that I love this place so much.”
“And you should love it,” Scarlet said. “Spend more time during the next few days riding the trails. Hike.”
He brightened. “I can help you out here in the museum.”
She opened her mouth, trying to figure out just how to answer him.
She didn’t have to; the front door opened again and Trisha walked in. “Scarlet, you doing all right?” she asked.
Scarlet nodded. “I just got up.”
“I can see that,” Trisha said with a smile. “Want us to hang around down here while you go upstairs and shower?” She looked toward the stairs as she spoke, and her eyes widened. “Where’s Nathan?” she asked, almost as if the mannequin was a living, breathing man who might have headed out for a morning walk.
“I have him upstairs,” Scarlet said. “I’m studying his construction. I think he was carved in the 1870s but I’m trying to ascertain who the artist might have been.”
“You moved him upstairs?” Trisha asked.
“Yeah, I’m stronger than I look,” Scarlet said lightly. “But, it’s such a great figure, I want to know more about it.”
“People whittled in these mountains all the time, so if you don’t find a signature or anything, it won’t be surprising. Back then, once the snow fell, there wasn’t much to do except sit around the fire and whittle,” Ben said.
“That’s always true in my line of work,” Scarlet said. “Sometimes we can find the answers, sometimes we can’t. But yes, I’d feel more secure if I knew the two of you were here while I was getting ready. Thank you. Come on up. Nathan Kendall’s in the living room, if you feel like visiting him.”
She turned and fled up the stairs, wondering for a minute if she’d asked a pair of psychotic killers to stand guard while she showered.
No. The idea that Ben and Trisha could be killers was ridiculous.
More ridiculous than that a mannequin had moved on its own?
She winced and silently prayed that Diego would arrive soon.
Taking a deep breath, she told herself that she had to behave normally. Still, she locked the door to her room. Her mind was racing, filled with all the crazy things that had happened in less than twenty-four hours.
Ben and Trisha, the murders, the mannequin at the foot of the bed, her feeling of being watched, the pictures, the man who had stopped her in town...
She finally turned on the water.
But even in the shower, she kept peeking around the curtain, making sure that Nathan didn’t walk in to surprise her when she stepped out.
She was more relieved than she liked to admit when he didn’t make another appearance.
Clean and dressed, she entered the living room. Nathan Kendall was still right where she had put him, and Ben and Trisha were talking about his merits. Despite herself, she couldn’t help feeling suspicious.
Trisha turned to her with a smile. “I took the liberty of putting coffee on,” she said. “Or would you rather have tea?”
“I’m happy with either,” Scarlet assured her. “And no liberty—you own this place.”
“But we’ve given you the apartment as part of your employee package,” Ben said. “That means we’re guests in here right now.”
“Then I should be getting you coffee,” Scarlet said. “And I hope you don’t mind, but Diego, my ex, has three other agents with him. I can ask them to stay somewhere else if you’d rather.”
“Four FBI agents to watch over us?” Trish asked. “I don’t mind in the least. In fact, I’m thrilled.”
“We have an almost empty bed-and-breakfast,” Ben said drily. “Not a problem at all.”
“They should be here soon. While we’re waiting, I’ll whip up omelets,” Scarlet said. “I’m actually a pretty good cook,” she promised.
She looked at her watch and realized that she didn’t want to be alone in the museum.
And once Diego and his friends got here, did she tell him that either one or both of her employers might be a psychotic killer, or else a mannequin had moved all by itself? Even if he didn’t think she was the killer, she really didn’t want him thinking she was crazy.
That thought made her smile fade as she looked at Ben and Trisha.
“Any more news on the couple who were killed?” she asked.
“The police are still withholding identification pending notification of next of kin,” Ben said. “But the town is buzzing with speculation. Scarlet,” he said, clearly upset, “I saw them. I saw those pictures, and then I saw them. I have to admit, it’s unnerving to think about something like that happening right here on the ranch.”
“It can’t have anything to do with us,” Trisha whispered.
“No, of course not,” Ben said. “But I’m a grown man and I have to say, I’m glad I keep a gun in the house, because I’m more than a little scared.”
So am I, Scarlet thought.
But Diego was coming, and he would find a way to make everything right.
Now, looking at Ben’s stricken expression, she decided she had to be crazy to think he and Trisha could have had anything to do with the deaths. And if they were after her, they could have killed her at any time.
Like the person who had moved the mannequin. That person could have killed her last night if he’d wanted to.
Unless the mannequin had moved on its own.
Okay, she told herself, that was enough of that. If she kept thinking along those lines she would start thinking she was crazy.
Diego and his friends would be there soon. All she had to do was hold on until then.
“I’ll make breakfast,” she said.
And then she fled to the kitchen to concentrate on creating omelets.
* * *
The minute Diego saw Scarlet come running out the door of the museum, eyes anxious and hopeful, he felt his muscles tighten, and an aching pulse began to pound through him. He wondered how things could have gone so wrong between the two of them when they’d loved each other so much.
Watching her run to him, blue eyes wide, chestnut hair streaming out behind her, he felt the same rush in his veins that he’d felt the first time he’d seen her. Her features were alive with intelligence, her movements the