The Dead Heat of Summer: A Krewe of Hunters Novella

by Heather Graham

  “Only one man threatened me and forced me to take the pills,” Lena murmured.

  “And we’re back to the fact that the property video went blank at just the right time. And one of these guys must have figured out a way into the house. Maybe they managed to copy Anthony’s keys and get code information off his phone... I don’t know.” Ryder grimaced.

  At the Marceau offices in the CBD, they headed straight for the meeting room.

  As they paused to check in with the receptionist, Lena murmured, “I’m going on ahead, to see what they’re up to.”

  Stephanie chatted a minute with the receptionist while she checked to make sure the other board members had arrived and were going to the conference room. She was still talking when Lena’s ghost came back to Ryder.

  “This is going to be interesting. I heard Barton Quincy talking to Larry Swenson. He was saying that someone had ‘gone off the rails.’ That the ‘idiot believes in ghosts!’ Then they said they had suspected all along that ‘she’ needed to be taken care of, that ‘she’ shouldn’t have been on it or that they should have dealt with ‘her’ earlier. Ryder, it doesn’t sound like they’re talking about Casey. So, who could they be talking about?”

  He glanced at Lena and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, pretending he’d gotten a phone call.

  “There’s only one other person I can think of...someone who could have helped them in what they needed to do for the right sum. Don’t mock my conspiracy theories, cousin.”

  “Ryder, we can go on in now,” Stephanie said.

  They walked down a hallway toward the conference room.

  Ryder was just about to enter when the phone he was still holding rang.

  It was Braxton.

  “Ryder, I swear I don’t know how Casey did it, but...”

  “Did what?”

  “She’s gone. Casey is gone. Her friends and co-workers never showed up for work. No one took her, Ryder. I know that much. She was here with me, and she stepped out to clean something off a window, and then...she was gone. No one took her. She ran. Away from me. On purpose.”

  Ryder felt his heart flip, and a burning sensation cascaded through him.

  Fear.

  He looked through the glass wall enclosure of the conference room, thinking that one of the four members besides Stephanie had to be absent.

  But they were all there. Barton Quincy was at one end of the table. Justin was next to him, talking to him earnestly. Larry Swenson was sitting back, playing with his pen and looking bored. Harry Miller was writing notes on a pad.

  If they were all there...

  It still had to be someone connected.

  She. The someone who was going off the rails.

  He grabbed Stephanie by the shoulders. “Get in there. Be tough. Carry out the agenda just as we planned. I’m sending cops, and unless they get you out of the offices, you’re going to be fine. Don’t let them tell you the baby is in danger, or that I’m in danger or anything. Don’t believe any threat if it comes to it, and don’t leave the offices. You understand? Hang tough.”

  Workers were busy at desks in the main room, and the conference room was visible to all of them through the glass.

  “Lena is with me?” Stephanie asked.

  Ryder nodded.

  “I won’t leave her,” Lena promised.

  Ryder nodded again. He could hear Braxton, still on the line, calling his name. He put his phone back to his ear as he left the offices. “I need police at the Marceau offices, Braxton. Now. Those bastards can’t try anything against Stephanie. I’m going after Casey.”

  “But where? I ran down the streets, Ryder, I swear. I didn’t want to fail you. I called it in. She must have moved like lightning, and she knows how to zig and zag these streets and is aware of every little nook and cranny to hide in if a cop comes. I’ve got the city searching. I don’t see how you’re going to find her—”

  “I will,” Ryder said. “I will. Because I think I know where she’s headed.”

  “I’ll get the force out—”

  “No. We can’t. Not if everyone is going to come out of this alive. Just get here. Stephanie is in danger. I’ll find Casey,” he said.

  He was already running out to his car.

  He used his emergency vehicle lighting to make it through the French Quarter to Rampart.

  Then he turned the lights off.

  And prayed he was right.

  Chapter 9

  Casey ran, dodging tourists, glad they were closer to Esplanade than Canal. There seemed to be more tourists towards Canal and Jackson Square, but she was running away from there and the river toward Tremé. As she ran, she heard a jazz band playing, caught the sound of laughter and applause, and thought about the city—the unique architecture, the beauty of the cathedral, the colors, the laughter, and the unique décor that made up New Orleans. She felt the life of the city and kept running, arguing with herself all the while.

  Whoever this is will just kill them all.

  She was a psychology major. She would use psychology. If she didn’t save her own life, it would be okay if they at least let Jared and Lauren go.

  She ran almost all the way to Rampart and paused to catch her breath. The first order of business had been to escape Detective Braxton Wild. She was sorry for what she had done to him. He’d been there to protect her. He was nice, determined. He’d just never expected the woman he was supposed to be guarding to turn on him and run.

  She took several deep breaths and started off again, this time at a quick walk. Could this person really have eyes everywhere? Would they have known if she had spoken to Detective Wild? But what if he’d tried to stop her? What if his interference had caused Lauren’s death?

  Again, and most logical, what if she got there and the murderer just killed all three of them?

  That was definitely possible. But...

  She had no choice. And she knew just how Lena had felt the day she had taken pills rather than watch her baby die.

  There was still a ways to go. She crossed Rampart and quickly ran down a side street. She suddenly saw several police cars and wondered if they might be looking for her. Detective Wild would have likely called in her disappearance immediately.

  But she bypassed them and reached the cemetery, running through the entrance as fast as she could. Like most cemeteries in the city, it had been laid out in lanes with small mausoleums lining each side, and occasional patches with in-ground burials, wall vaults or ovens, and single, aboveground tombs.

  She knew the way to where she needed to be.

  The gates were open. The Marley family mausoleum had not been properly resealed since William had been exhumed.

  But she didn’t head straight there or to the Marceau tomb. She was probably a fool. She remained torn, wondering how many killers were involved, if they really would have known if she had spoken to Detective Wild, and where they were now...

  Did they know she was coming? That she was here?

  She edged around the vault in front of her, trying to determine if she had been right about her destination. Did the killer want her here? And did the killer really hold Lauren and Jared?

  Tangled vines surrounded the tomb, but she carefully crept around it. As she was doing so, she realized that she was being followed. Someone was behind her.

  She reached into her bag, wishing she had a gun—and that she knew how to use one—and sought her phone.

  She stopped and swung around, holding her cell high.

  Someone stood in front of her, entirely clad in black like a child who had found a black bedsheet with which to play ghost.

  Man? Woman? A smaller person, she thought. Medium in stature but small for a man.

  “You’re holding a cell phone on me?” the person demanded. The voice was amused and still coming to her distorted.

  “I have the FBI on speed dial. You make a move toward me, my finger twitches, and they’re all over you in two seconds.”

  How had this
tiny person held Lauren and Jared and caused Lauren to scream?

  Easy. He or she held a small gun in one hand.

  And a large, glinting knife in the other.

  “You let them go this instant. And you’re an idiot. If you kill me, it won’t get you any closer to Stephanie and the baby. It will only get you caught.”

  “You didn’t talk to the cop. I know you didn’t.”

  “They’re closing in on you anyway.”

  “Oh, they’ll never get to the bottom of it.”

  “I want to see Lauren and Jared.”

  “You’ll see them. You just need to get into the tomb.”

  “No. I need to see them out here. I will hit speed dial. If we’re all going to die, so are you.”

  If she kept this person talking, was she buying time? Detective Wild would have called Ryder by now. The police would be scouring the city.

  But would anyone know to look in a small, almost-forgotten cemetery in Tremé?

  “Why are you after me anyway?” she demanded. “I’m not a Marceau!”

  “You know,” the black-draped creature told her. “You know... Lena talked about you. She said you were amazing. I’ve—I’ve felt things. The bitch came back. Lena came back. And she came back to you. Eventually, you’ll know, and you’re going to tell them what happened and—”

  “You think Lena came back? If I knew, I would have told them by now. Listen, no one knows who you are. Let my friends go. Let me go. I mean, I don’t know how you pulled the rest of it off—”

  “Me? Oh, not alone, my dear. We all played our parts. All for one and one for all. That’s the only way you can ever trust anyone. Absolute loyalty comes when anyone is in danger of the death penalty. When the guilt is shared evenly. Ah, the challenges were great. The danger was great. But the rewards...endless. We all had alibis, absolutely ironclad. And there you have it.”

  Suddenly, it all made sense.

  Keep her talking, keep her talking! she told herself.

  “I see. Well, I’d watch it if I were you,” Casey said.

  “What are you talking about? You need to get in that tomb. That’s where you’ll find your friends.”

  “So you can shoot us all? That’s not such a great idea either. A small cemetery...you figured no one comes here. No one will hear the shots. But that’s a small enclosure. You’re a small woman. If you want to kill me, you didn’t come up with the best idea. I’m surprised the foursome let you in on this. I mean, whoever managed to get William Marley chock-full of cocaine to induce a heart attack...that was brilliant. Even if there had been an autopsy, how do you prove that someone forced him to overdose? And killing Anthony? Lure him to the roof, and he falls over. No cameras, no one there, and it was probably staged to look like an accident or a suicide. If there had been a stray weather chopper or someone up on a taller building, it could have even appeared that Anthony was going to jump, and they were trying to talk him down.”

  “Foursome?”

  “Well, they paid you, that foursome. Obviously. I guess your part in it all—for a handsome reward—was to see that one of them was able to get in, cut the video system, and go after Lena. That didn’t take a rocket scientist. Threaten a baby, and a mother will do almost anything.”

  “You think you’re so smart. It wasn’t a foursome.”

  “Barton Quincy approached you, right?” Casey asked pleasantly.

  “No, Miss Smarty Pants. Larry approached me. He said Anthony and Lena were ruining the company, and we’d all wind up on the streets if things were done their way. I worked my rear off for years for those people. Member of the family, they called me. Lena never even trusted me with Annette. She was always with that kid. Anthony barely knew I existed. Such good people! I was nothing to them. I was like the air. So, when Larry came to me and said he needed to get into the house and told me what he was going to pay me to help, I made sure he got in.”

  “Interesting that you felt that way. I saw how kind Stephanie was to you. But let’s see. Barton Quincy warned you to make sure you were at your book club. Did you know then that he was going to kill Lena? Did you know about William Marley or Anthony?”

  She shrugged. “I suspected, but... Stop it. And that family—not nice! They were patronizing. You need to get into the tomb.”

  “You need to figure out another plan. While you’re shooting one of us, the other two will jump you. The tomb is too tight. So, two of us are dead, but so are you,” Casey said.

  “You think you’re so smart!” Gail Reeves screamed and ripped off her mask and voice modulator. “You thought that up all by yourself. Sorry, it won’t happen that way. Barton told me you’re just a nut job despite how Lena said she loved your store and you. She said there was something so special about you. That you saw things.”

  “And you’re trying to kill me—without permission from the guys—because you think Lena’s ghost will tell me everything? Oh, Gail. Lena didn’t even know you were the one who let her killer in. Who was it by the way? Justin?”

  Gail waved her gun in the air. “Justin? Don’t be an idiot. I don’t think he could successfully set out to kill a cockroach. Justin wasn’t in on this.”

  “Who killed Lena?”

  “Who cares if you know? You know I will kill you. Larry took care of William. Harry Miller was responsible for seeing that Anthony went off the roof. And Barton Quincy took care of Lena—and he was anxious to do it.”

  “But they don’t know what you’re doing now, do they? Because if you weren’t freaked out by the fact that I saw Lena’s ghost—I do see her, by the way—you’d never have made this mistake. And it is a mistake. It will bring the cops down on all of you like locusts.”

  Gail Reeves smiled. She was nothing like a kindly grandmother.

  There was malice—and lunacy—in her eyes.

  “I have my money. I’ll be long gone. Go, get into the tomb. If you die like a nice girl, I might let your friends live.”

  She will never let anyone live, Casey thought.

  But she was trying to buy time. Heading for the tomb could buy her more.

  “Lena, hey! There you are,” she said.

  Lena wasn’t there, but Casey wanted to see the effect her words had on Gail Reeves.

  Gail glared at her.

  But as Casey reached the gate, it began swinging as if there were a breeze. She frowned.

  Lena had gone to the board meeting. Could she be here? If she was, did that mean Ryder was here, too?

  But it wasn’t Lena. Casey saw the ghost of a World War II soldier by the gate. Given his uniform, he had been United States Air Force.

  She blinked. A second ghost. One helping her.

  This time, she wouldn’t pass out. She was fighting for her life.

  “Dante Marceau, Miss Nicholson. Friend of Lena. I’m sorry to say I didn’t make it back from Normandy, but I’m delighted to be here today to help you in any way I can. Lena has told me all about you.”

  Yes, of course, Lena had friends now who were ghosts.

  “Thank you!” Casey said aloud.

  It was almost pitch-black inside the tomb. Only a small stained-glass window at the rear allowed in shards of colored light.

  It was enough.

  Gail Reeves had managed to get Jared and Lauren inside. They were tied back to back and seated just below the stained-glass window.

  Gail had used her blade on Lauren, leaving a bloody slash across her cheek.

  Her friends both looked at Casey as if they were heartsick. Terrified, but sick that she had come.

  That she would ultimately join their fate. Casey closed her eyes briefly. Her life didn’t flash before her. She smelled the moldy scent of the tomb, saw the niche where William Marley’s body had recently lain. The floor was dusty, spiderwebs teased the walls and crypts. It was truly the home of the dead.

  “Go, go, get in!” Gail said harshly.

  “Wait!” Casey said. “She’s here. Lena is here. Be careful—”

  Th
e gate didn’t just jiggle or sway. It slammed hard, separating Casey from Gail. Unnerved, Gail fired a shot. It slammed into stone.

  She took better aim to fire again.

  But the gun was suddenly ripped cleanly from her hand as Ryder leapt out from behind a neighboring tomb, his movements smooth and easy.

  Gail screamed as her fingers twisted, and she fell to the ground in front of the mausoleum. But she bolted up, the knife in her hand, raving mad as she lunged at Ryder. He caught her wrist and grabbed the knife. When she tried to strike him, he ducked and struck back.

  “Ryder, thank God!” Casey breathed, starting to come out of the tomb.

  “No, no, get back in there for a minute. Let me get Gail in there and then close the gate,” Ryder said.

  “What—?”

  “They know I left. And they know Gail is a whack job.”

  Casey edged back into the tomb, hunkering down as Ryder lifted Gail’s unconscious body, slid her in, and closed the gate. Then, he disappeared.

  Casey moved closer to Lauren and Jared, bringing a finger to her lips in the strange and eerily colored darkness that was the realm of the dead.

  “She’s got to be here. I told you we needed to do something about her!”

  Larry Swenson was doing the speaking.

  “We needed her. We had to get to Stephanie and the baby, and she was our shot. If we can’t kill them, this has all been for nothing.”

  Harry Miller was with Larry Swenson. They were walking through the graveyard, hurriedly coming toward the tomb.

  “What if the cops get here?” Larry asked.

  “We lay it on Gail. Say we were getting suspicious. Barton should have been here, too, but he’s always keeping himself out of the way. Bastard! Thinks if we get ourselves killed, he’ll take the whole prize. Then, he’d have to kill Justin Marceau, too. And he hates getting his hands dirty,” Harry said disgustedly.

  “He got his hands dirty. He killed Lena,” Larry mumbled.

  “He thought he could control her. When he couldn’t...he really hated her.”

  The two were almost at the mausoleum.

  Ryder suddenly stepped out in front of them.

  “Gentlemen,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to stop there. You’re under arrest for murder.”