Krewe of Hunters The Unseen Read Online Free PDF Page B

enforcement into confusion and break chains of evidence when they do, and that’s one reason the FBI is so important. Of course, your superiors know about this offer, and although they’d be sorry to lose you, they understand the unique possibilities of the position I’m offering you.”
    Logan shook his head. “Thank you. No. You’ve got a serial killer on your hands. Or—since one way or another, I’ll get involved—we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.
    We’ll dig in, too, work with the FBI. But I think I’ll stay right where I am. I don’t see any reason to change.” IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
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    Crow nodded. “As I’ve been saying, it is your choice. But there’s something different about this case that does require an extra ability to see. ”
    “See
    what?”
    “Beneath the obvious.”
    “And what’s that?”
    “Chelsea Martin called a friend just before she disappeared,” Jackson Crow said.
    “From the Alamo?”
    “Yes.”
    “And?”
    “She said she saw a ghost. She thought it had to be the ghost of a Texas hero. He was trying to urge her to get away.”
    “You’ve lost me.”
    “She phoned Nancy McCall, a friend in New York, when she reached the Alamo. At first, according to Nancy, she was laughing, telling her that a reenactor was playing a game with her. Then she was concerned, saying that the
    ‘performer’ was getting very dramatic, insisting she leave the Alamo, go and hide somewhere. At the end of the conversation, Chelsea seemed to believe she’d seen a ghost. She sounded frightened, and said this ghost or whatever he was had just disappeared.”
    “And
    then?”
    “Nothing. The line went dead. Her phone was never used again, and it was never found—and I’ve shown you what was left of Chelsea Martin.”
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    The Longhorn had been built at a time when men were men and…men were men. The saloon had a long curving bar, a piano and a large space for gaming tables.
    Near the front entry, which came complete with swinging doors, a staircase led to the balcony above and to the rooms on the second f loor. When Kelsey sped into the main saloon area from the kitchen, she was stunned to see a man running down the stairs as if he were being chased by every demon in hell.
    A big, tough-looking man. Leanly muscled, he stood a good six foot two—and he was wearing an expression of sheer horror.
    He had to be the “big ol’ rodeo cowboy” Sandy had told her about.
    As Kelsey ran to the foot of the stairs to discover the cause of his terror, he nearly knocked her over in his haste to reach the door.
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    “Sir! What is it? What’s happened?”
    Luckily, it seemed that the few other guests currently checked in to the Longhorn were already out or still asleep, and that the staff was either busy or not at work yet. No one else had appeared at the sound of the screams.
    “Let me out of here! Let me out of here now!” he yelled.
    He seemed like a decent man. Even in his near hysteria, he wasn’t going to mow her down or pick her up bodily to toss her out of the way.
    She hadn’t realized that Sandy had come behind her until she heard her speak. “Mr. Simmons, what’s wrong?” she asked.
    Simmons was perhaps thirty; he had the ruggedly handsome look of a modern-day cowboy, and Kelsey assumed he was in town for the upcoming rodeo trials. The man might have been ready to brave the meanest bronco, but he pointed up the stairs with a trembling hand. “Blood…
    blood…blood. Oh, God, blood everywhere, all over the room!” he said. “Let me out. For the love of God, let me out of here!”
    Kelsey arched a brow at Sandy and placed a hand on Simmons’s shoulder. “Sir, it’s all right. Sandy will help you,” she said.
    Sandy looked back at Kelsey, her eyes filled with a