Free Krewe of Hunters The Unseen by Heather Graham Page B

her opinion, there was no excuse for that kind of behavior.
    “Hello.” She smiled, hoping to compensate for her companion’s lack of courtesy.
    IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
    9780778313298_HC.indd 74
    11-12-01 3:55 PM

    75
    She was startled when Raintree stood abruptly and even the costumed stranger took a step back.
    “Who are you talking to?” Raintree asked suspiciously.
    Kelsey stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. She stood, too, and said pointedly, “The gentleman you’re ignoring.” She turned back to look at the man in costume, but he was gone.
    When she turned toward Logan Raintree again, his expression had hardened, and he seemed to have withdrawn from her.
    “You
    saw a man?” he demanded.
    “Of course I saw him,” she said. “He wanted to talk to you, and you acted like he was a martian or something.” As she frowned at him, both of them standing near the chapel of the Alamo, she heard an intense whirring sound.
    Birds.
    Black birds…crows. Settling down, all around them.
    “I’ll see you at the morgue tomorrow,” Logan Raintree said, and he began to walk away, his footsteps moving through the sudden sea of birds, scattering them in all directions.
    IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
    9780778313298_HC.indd 75
    11-12-01 3:55 PM

    A murder could be easier to solve than the case of a missing person, Kelsey ref lected. When a body was discovered, there was a chance to collect evidence and—
    usually—a trail to follow. When a person had simply disappeared, you had to assume someone must have seen something, but finding that someone was often next to impossible.
    The files they’d been given contained all the known information about Vanessa Johnston, who was last seen purchasing gas at a station near the county line.
    She’d spoken brief ly with a young cashier when she had gone in to buy coffee, saying she was excited about going to San Antonio, and then she’d gotten back into her Honda and driven off. Neither she nor the car had been seen since.
    Her cell phone records indicated that she’d made no calls.
    Nor had she used her charge card again.
    “A car has to show up somewhere,” Kelsey murmured aloud to herself.
    IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
    9780778313298_HC.indd 76
    11-12-01 3:55 PM

    77
    There was a tap on her door. She was in bed—having moved into Room 207—and she rose up, leaning against her pillow.
    “Kelsey?” Sandy called.
    “Come on in,” Kelsey said.
    She hadn’t had a chance to speak with Sandy since she’d gotten back; the inn was now full, and there’d been a number of bartenders and waitresses in the busy downstairs area, along with the singer who was reprising old tunes with a piano player. The saloon had been bustling. She’d been glad, since she wasn’t ready to share anything about her day. Yet.
    When she’d returned, however, Corey Simmons had been waiting for her, hoping to buy her a drink. She’d de-clined. Sandy had packed up his belongings, brought them to Kelsey’s room, then packed up Kelsey’s stuff. He wanted to thank her, he’d said rather sheepishly, for moving into Room 207.
    “Hey, just wanted to make sure you’re okay in here,” Sandy told her, stepping inside. Sandy was wearing an apron, since she’d pitched in with the serving downstairs.
    Kelsey smiled. “I’m fine, absolutely fine. Nothing’s going to happen to me in this room,” she assured Sandy.
    Sandy let out a soft sigh. “Well, thank you. You were wonderful. I can hardly believe Corey decided to stay here.”
    “Well, you know, if the inn’s filling up and someone else wants this room, I can always go to another hotel,” Kelsey told her.
    “No! You’re staying right here. I’m not renting this room to macho men, cowboys or hunters. I’m keeping things calm. I have to make a living on this place!” IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
    9780778313298_HC.indd 77
    11-12-01 3:55 PM

    78
    “Okay, then, not to worry. I’ll stay, and I’ll be just