Krewe of Hunters 1 Phantom Evil by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

by day and night, and that we don’t need to see a lot of people with their eyes wide open—deer-caught-in-the-headlights—jumping at every sound.”
    â€œLogical,” she told him.
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œLogical. If they exist, they must exist in daylight as well as in the middle of the night.”
    â€œWhat about Griffin?” he asked her.
    Once again, she froze. He had a knack for throwing in a tough question just when she had relaxed.
    â€œWhat about him?” she asked dully. “He’s dead.”
    â€œDo you ever ‘see’ him?”
    She shook her head. “No.”
    â€œYou two were together for years,” he commented.
    â€œFive, to be exact.”
    â€œYou didn’t foresee his death?” he asked.
    She stared at him, every muscle in her body as tense as piano wire. “When they told us that the cancer had spread into every organ and riddled his bones, yes, I foresaw it.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “I wondered if it made you—susceptible.”
    â€œSusceptible to what?” she demanded.
    â€œSeeing ghosts. I just wanted to make sure that you were over it, and that you were standing on even ground.”
    â€œAm I over it? Do we ever get over the loss of loved ones? No—I have never managed to do so. My parents, and Griffin, are always alive in my heart. Do I accept the reality of it? Yes. And they are all gone. Gone. They don’t come and take my hand and direct me to dead bodies—or to lost children, for that matter.” She paused, needing to wet her lips. She didn’t sip her wine, she chugged it. Most unattractive, she was sure; she didn’t care. He could be so completely courteous. He could make her comfortable, he could make her laugh. And then, he could home right in for the kill.
    â€œWhat about you?” she demanded more heatedly than she had intended. “Do your lost field agents come and speak to you in the night? Do they ask you how you didn’t happen to get there in time to save them?”
    There wasn’t so much as a crack in his expression, not a change whatsoever in the steady dark blue eyes that surveyed her.
    â€œNo. They are gone. Like you, I accept that they are gone. Like you, I do remain haunted by the lives they once led.”
    She flushed. He should feel badly for badgering her about the losses in her life. She was left feeling similarly—but she had phrased her words in a much meaner manner.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she murmured uncomfortably. Damn him! She didn’t need to be apologizing to him.
    â€œOne thing is true—we can’t undo the past. We can only do our best in the present, and hope to find the answers in the future. Dessert? Coffee?” he asked her.
    She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
    â€œWant to split a bread pudding? It’s out of this world here.”
    She sat back, still uneasy, and totally baffled by his ability to remain so unruffled. She had been tested throughout dinner, she realized.
    â€œI’m fine, thank you.”
    â€œAnother glass of wine?” he asked.
    â€œFine, why not?”
    He ordered brandy and bread pudding, and she had another glass of wine. His conversation turned casual. He talked about his love for the city; he had worked here for nearly a year when he had first joined the bureau. “Things are always just a little bit different in these parts. Louisiana laws are still based on Napoleonic Code—French law—while the majority of the country is based on English law. It’s not major, but there are some differences. You’ll note they have parishes instead of counties.”
    â€œI went to Tulane. I know that,” she told him. Inane. He had her dossier.
    â€œAnd majored in history and philosophy,” he said.
    She nodded. “And you?”
    He shrugged. “I spent six years in college. I liked it. I might have stayed a college student all my