Free Krewe of Hunters 2 Heart of Evil by Heather Graham

cheerfully.
    â€œWhat’s for breakfast?” Ashley asked.
    â€œDown-home comfort food this morning,” Beth said. “Corn bread, blueberry muffins, bacon and cheese omelets, and country cheese grits. Want to grab a plate and eat before it starts getting crazy?”
    â€œSure,” Ashley said. She watched as her beautiful friend made art out of an omelet and shook her head as Beth handed her the plate full of light, fluffy eggs.
    â€œGrits are in the bowl, corn bread is sliced and in those baskets,” Beth said.
    Ashley helped herself. “I’m going to waddle across the lawn soon,” Ashley told her.
    Beth grinned. “I doubt it. You’re too fond of those awful creatures out in the stables. You get plenty of exercise.” She shivered.
    â€œI can’t believe that you’re afraid of horses.” Ashley laughed.
    â€œI told you—one of the bastards bit me when I was a child!” Beth said.
    â€œWell, ours won’t bite you. You should try riding Tigger. She’s a twenty-year-old sweetie. She moves like an old woman.”
    â€œThen she may be crotchety as one, too,” Beth said. “No, honey, you stick to your horses, and I’ll stick to cooking.”
    Ashley dutifully bit into her omelet, and it was delicious. As she was finishing, guests began to stream by her, heading in for breakfast or stopping to clear their tabs. They’d be down to eight guests that night; the reenactment had taken place on a Sunday, and many of those who came for the reenactment managed to take off the Monday if they had a regular workweek. By Monday night, they were usually down to just a few guests.
    She heard Frazier speaking with people on the other side of the stairway, his tone rich and filled with humor as he told old family tales and pointed out certain portraits on the walls.
    Ashley took her place at the desk to fill out the registry and books—by hand; people actually signed her guest book, and she wrote personal thank-yous—and then could have sworn that someone had approached her. She looked up, but she was alone. For a moment, her brows knit in consternation, but people milled throughout the lower level of the house now and any one of them might have stopped nearby. She gave her concentration back to the project at hand.
    She heard a throat being cleared then, and looked up—this time, someone was there. Justin.
    He sat in the one of the period wingback chairs that faced the desk.
    She frowned. “Are you checking out? I thought you were staying a few days.”
    â€œI am staying another few days, Ashley. I just stopped to see how you’re doing,” he told her.
    She liked Justin. At forty, he was a widower, though years before, he had brought his wife with him, and she had played at being a camp follower—with great relish. They had been married for years before he had lost her to cancer. But Justin still came.
    â€œI’m fine, thanks. Nancy’s got the girls?” His mother-in-law, Nancy, now came along to help Justin with his ten-year-old twin girls. Hard to be a “fighting federal” and keep an eye on twins.
    â€œYes. Any word on Charles?”
    She set her pen down. “No. But I haven’t tried calling anyone this morning. Everyone on that search party last night is weary of me torturing them, so… If he’s been found, I’ll be called right away.”
    He reached across the desk and put his hand on hers, giving a comforting squeeze.
    â€œAshley, you are part of the charm of this place.
    You really care. None of us thinks you were torturing us. I was thinking of taking the family for a horse ride later, and I know that Cliff does a lot of the riding tours, but I thought you and I could make another search of it, too.”
    She was surprised. “Sure! And thank you.”
    â€œJeanine and Meg don’t ride well. They don’t geta chance to go riding often enough. You still