Hallow Be the Haunt (Krewe of Hunters #22.5)(17)

“Wow.” Ashley couldn’t imagine a mother being that uninterested.

“I know.” Several emotions played over his face.

“The notebook bothered you?”

“Yes. It was as if she was sticking to her guns about something. And when she was found, she had a sign on her that read Traitor. But that’s not all. There was a crucifix in her drawer. A really beautiful gold crucifix. It bothered me that she would have such a piece and not be wearing it.”

“People don’t always wear their jewelry.”

But Jake still seemed disturbed. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. Unless she was changing something about her life. She might have been raised Catholic, and then when her mother remarried she changed? It doesn’t seem right. I don’t know, but—” He seemed to shake off his thoughts. “Let’s focus on something a little lighter for now. We can rent costumes in a store that’s near the art shop, right?”

“Let’s do it.” She smiled at him. “We’ll skip dessert. Champagne and crème br?lée next time around.”

“Ashley,” Jake murmured.

“Jake,” she countered, knowing he was concerned for her safety. “It’s ridiculous—for one—to assume these murderers are going to a particular party. You did intend to just walk around and watch what was going on, right? Hoping you’d pick up on some kind of clue.”

“Yes.”

“Stop worrying. And when we’re home… Well, maybe something silk can really fall your way. Or mine.” She smiled. “Remember when we tried the silk sheets?”

“Yes. We wound up on the floor. Actually, even that—”

“We did have a few bruises. Anyway, stud, that’s for later.” She motioned for the check.

They were going to a party.

“Ashley…” He tried one more time.

“Jake, I’m in this with you. I’ve always been in this with you. And we’re in New Orleans. Orleans Parish. We’re home. Have faith in me. Don’t just love me, have faith in me.”

“I do,” he swore softly.

Jake looked at her, his eyes serious. “I don’t know how I could survive—function—if I didn’t have you.”

She reached across the table and took his hand. “It’s going to be fine.”

His expression told her he wasn’t so sure. “We’ll get through it. Together.”





Chapter 5



“So that’s it,” Ashley said, facing the fa?ade of “Picture This.”

It was like any other art shop. The large picture windows featured some of the best of what was to be found inside. An Open sign was in the front door.

They had left the French Quarter behind for the wonders of Magazine Street, which was lined with more restaurants, clubs, and shops, many of these the favorite haunts of locals.

The costume shop was still down the street. But the art shop fascinated Ashley. And Jake hadn’t yet reached the other two girls—Emily Dupont and Samantha Perkins.

One—or both of them—might be working now.

“I say we go in,” she added.

Jake looked at her uneasily. “Maybe you shouldn’t be associated with me.”

“Ah, but maybe I should be.”

Ashley didn’t give him a chance to protest. She opened the door. A bell tinkled as she did so.

There were others in the shop. An attractive brunette of about thirty was helping a couple who were enamored with a painting of Royal Street. The picture captured the beautiful Hotel Monteleone and a group of musicians playing just across the street, all facing the neon lights of Canal Street.

Ashley began to wander, and Jake followed close behind.

“These are beautiful—and interesting,” Ashley said, pausing before a group of paintings.

They were odd. One was of a werewolf—tortured as he changed from man to beast.

Another showed a witch—not a cackling, big-nosed witch, but a lovely young witch with huge round eyes. She was staring up at the moon with fear. The painting was both beautiful and somehow tragic.

“They were created by our victim,” Jake said softly. “Shelley Broussard.”

“It’s as if her mind was…tortured.”

“Maybe she knew she didn’t have much time left,” Jake murmured. “Maybe her paintings were a cry for help.”

“Yes. And maybe a way to…to lead people to her killer.” Ashley turned. “She was afraid, Jake. She was afraid of exactly what happened to her. She did something—or maybe didn’t do something? But what was it exactly?”

Jake had reviewed his notes in the car so he didn’t need to look at them now. In fact, he’d memorized the words.

“I believe…but what is right is right, and what is wrong…is very wrong.”

“It sounds as if she was having a crisis of faith—or maybe heart? Something.”

“Possibly.” Jake shrugged. “Tomorrow I’m going to reach that girl’s mother—the one who can’t quite get herself to leave Texas to claim her daughter’s body.” He shook his head.

The thirtyish brunette came over to them wearing a big smile. “Hello, welcome. I’m Emily Dupont. May I help you?”