Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(35)

He’d tried to keep an eye on the others, too, but at this point most of them had retreated to the dressing rooms or the catering tent, a makeshift creation of a few poles draped in canvas, and a bunch of folding chairs surrounding a few folding tables. The weather was changing. The dead heat of summer was no longer upon them, and in the shade, the day was almost pleasant.

For the most part, it had been easy watching Charlie, and it was a bonus to be on the set, because it gave him the chance to speak with the rest of the cast and the crew during breaks. He hated having to consider them suspects, but it was a necessary part of the job, and it was great to be able to form his crucial first impressions without letting them know that was what he was doing.

Jennie McPherson was effusive and charming, casually confident. She was excited to be a shareholder in the movie but not particularly worried about whether her investment earned out or not. She was a good makeup artist and could always find work in New Orleans, because the film industry was booming there.

Grant Ferguson was older and an established accountant. Jimmy Smith had freely admitted that he was praying for the movie to do well. Acting was his life, but he wasn’t exactly earning the big bucks. Barry Seymour was also heavily invested in the project, but he was quick to say that he would never have invested if his financial security depended on it. He had a fiscally conservative father who’d lectured him about investing since childhood. He was going to be all right.

“The best money a lot of these guys made in ages was for that special reenactment on the Journey,” Barry had told Ethan. “Most of them are so in love with history that they’ll spend stupid amounts of money to be involved in something like this movie. Not me. I’m happy to invest, but not to risk anything I can’t afford to lose.” He’d looked across the field to where Charlie was standing. “Some are smarter than others. You take Charlie’s dad. History is his life, but he’s no fool. Jonathan Moreau knows his own value, and he makes sure he’s well paid for doing what he loves.”

Jonathan Moreau’s name again. But he could no more see Jonathan Moreau stabbing a man in the heart with a bayonet than he could see himself doing it.

“So most of you were involved with the programming on the Journey,” Ethan had said. “Did any of you get in on that argument between Farrell Hickory and Albion Corley?”

“Oh, God, no! I made a point not to get involved,” Barry had said.

“Did you see who started it? And was anyone passionately opposed to one man or the other?”

“I think Hickory started it,” Barry had answered. “And I think he was being an ass. I mean really, who the hell cared? It was all about whether a black man had really been there, but Jonathan said there’s no real proof either way. And in New Orleans these days, we’re such a mixed bag, no one notices anyone’s skin color any more than they notice hair color. I know we’re talking history, but...” He’d shrugged. “It just wasn’t worth fighting about, you know?”

“Cut!” Brad called, jerking Ethan abruptly back to the present.

He had been kneeling, head bowed, as he contemplated the earth he’d risen from and to which, he assumed—he hadn’t read the whole script—he would return when his protective presence was no longer needed.

“Damn, but you look the part,” Mike said.

“Thanks,” Ethan said.

“Too bad you’re a Fed,” Brad told him. “You look great on film. You could make a career of this, if you wanted.”

“Thanks. I have to admit it’s fun,” Ethan said, keeping his eye on Charlie. He could see the catering tent from his vantage point. She’d looked a little lost when she went in and found herself alone, but she was now speaking with Jennie and Jimmy. Something about her body language seemed off, though, as if she were trying too hard to act casual.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’d just like to make sure Charlie is doing okay, seeing as you’re filming so close to where she found the body and all.”

“Yeah, this is kind of awkward for all of us,” Mike said. “I feel like we should do more to respect the dead, but at the same time, we paid for permits. And we’ve all got our lives and finances wrapped up in this thing, so we’ve pretty much got to keep going.”

“You moved the filming as far away from the burial site as you could. Nothing else you can do,” Ethan said.

He’d known both Thornton brothers forever, though he was older, so they hadn’t been close friends.

“You know,” Brad said, suddenly passionate, “we’d never let anything happen to Charlie.”

“We’d die for her,” Mike added softly.

Brad nodded.

“Yeah. I believe you,” Ethan said, nodding, then walked away, anxious to get to Charlie. It was already late afternoon. Where the hell had the day gone?

She spotted him as he entered the catering tent, and smiled broadly—too broadly.

“I’m done for the day,” she said. “I’m going to go change clothes. What about you?”

“I’m done, too, though I think I need a bath,” he said.

“I think we all need baths. Even those of us who didn’t roll around in the dirt,” Jennie said. She raised her voice and asked the larger group, “Anyone want to meet for dinner?”