The Hidden by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

her having had in her possession a camera with pictures of a similar murder scene, pictures that were no longer on the memory card. The camera had been thoroughly examined by the police techs and no evidence of any such pictures had been found, nor could they find any indication that the camera might have been tampered with. Further, witnesses had been found to corroborate her claim that she had gone into town to eat and visit a local bar at the time of the murders. The guests and staff of the Conway Ranch had been questioned, as well. No one had seen the victims or anything suspicious, but they’d all been asked to remain in the area for the next twenty-four hours, though a number of the guests had elected to check out and rebook elsewhere.
    The most interesting aspect of the case—one that might have tightened the noose around Scarlet’s neck if not for her solid alibi—was that the bullets had come from a vintage Colt revolver.
    Antique bullets and casings.
    Like the ones in the museum where she worked.
    Not that the museum was a model of security. It was part of a rustic mountaintop resort. The door locks could be picked by anyone with a modicum of skill. The only security on the property came from the cats in the stables, and they only kept the place secure against mice.
    They touched down in Denver at 10:00 a.m. The drive out to Estes Park was about an hour, give or take, depending on traffic.
    Diego knew that Scarlet had been released from police custody and was back at the ranch. He called her cell to let her know that they were on their way.
    She didn’t sound at all like herself. Her voice was raspy and anxious.
    “Just hang in there, okay?” he told her. “Brett and a couple of agents from a special unit are with me, and we’ll be there in an hour.”
    “Of course,” she told him, then added, “Just hurry. Please.”
    As if he hadn’t been concerned enough before, he thought.
    He hadn’t been to Colorado, and despite his eagerness to reach Scarlet and make sure she really was all right, he couldn’t help noticing how beautiful the scenery was as they moved higher into the Rocky Mountains. They passed through charming small towns and what was obviously horse country, and saw ads for businesses dedicated to celebrating the Old West. Wild Bill Hickok had a museum dedicated to him, and the casinos all seemed to have modeled themselves on old mining towns.
    But nothing could detract from the raw and even savage beauty of the land, soaring rock faces and crystalline waters that gleamed in the sunlight as they climbed toward Estes Park.
    From the road, he could see the famous Stanley Hotel, gleaming in the sunlight.
    Finally the road curved, they passed through a break in the trees and arrived at the Conway Ranch. Diego let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
    The main house was built of wood and handsomely varnished in its natural shade. To the left were the museum and stables, both nicely restored, as well. To the right, two more outbuildings—the smokehouse and the bunkhouse.
    And surrounding everything was a dense forest that draped like a cloak over the mountain to the valley below.
    Up the mountain he could see the bright yellow crime-scene tape, though the bodies were long gone. A lone officer sat in a patrol car in the parking lot, his head back and his fingers tapping on the steering wheel, presumably keeping time to whatever music the radio was playing.
    Matt, who was driving, pulled up out front. Yes, everything here was magnificent, Diego thought, but the only nature he was interested in was the force of nature that was Scarlet.
    * * *
    Of course Scarlet had screamed as if every hellhound from the dark unknown had come after her.
    And of course no one heard her.
    Something she would need to remember.
    She’d leaped from the bed, staring at the thing in terror, all the while telling herself it was a mannequin, just a damned mannequin.
    That meant someone alive and stealthy had