Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(42)

She fled. Up the stairs, into her room. She closed the door and put on a nightshirt. Got in bed.

And remembered...

She remembered the unhallowed ground where she’d sat as they’d waited for the police to arrive, then the man—the killer—suddenly emerging from the trees and racing straight at her, intent on murder.

She’d been so young, so terrified, but Ethan had been there, like a bolt of lightning, the wind of a hurricane, slamming into her would-be killer and taking him down.

She forced herself to consider the possibility that she had fallen victim to some kind of survivor’s hero worship for the man who had saved her life. Maybe Ethan and her feelings for him weren’t what she’d thought they were for so long. Certainly she could live without him, as witnessed by the last ten years.

No. He’d always been there, lurking in the far reaches of her mind, her heart.

And she knew.

This wasn’t hero worship. Something inside her was captivated by the man. And she felt as strongly now as she had when she’d been raw and young and scared. From the moment he had come to her rescue that night, freeing her from “pledging” at the gravestone, she’d been connected to him. And she was forced to admit that it had been more than her knowledge that he could see the dead that had led her to ask to have him assigned to the case.

It had been the best excuse in the world, though, since it was real.

She realized she should head downstairs while he was still awake and at least tell him about her conversations with Alexi and Clara. It would be the right thing to do.

She started to rise. Just as she sat up, there was a knock at her door. She froze, afraid.

She suddenly wished she hadn’t changed into one of the ragged football jerseys she used as nightgowns.

“Yes?” she asked.

The door opened. Ethan was there, silhouetted in the light from the hall.

There was something between them. They both felt it and always had, even though he’d fought so hard against it ten years ago. And now, at last, he had come to her. She’d felt his instant, sharp response when she’d touched him. He knew, knew that no one in her life had ever lived up to just the dream of him.

“Okay, so when the hell were you going to tell me?”

“Pardon?” she said, genuinely confused.

“About the Journey, Charlie. About the plans you and your friends made—and neglected to tell me about.”

“Oh.”

She plumped up her pillow and clutched it on her lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly make any plans. I can’t make plans. Neither can they. All we could do was imagine what might be possible, and then they were going to follow up with—”

“Oh, cut the bull, Charlie!” He walked over to the bed. He was like a tower of searing anger, completely restrained, of course, and possibly more shocking—or awesome—because of it.

“I know what you’re doing, and I understand why you want to do it, but what I can’t understand is why you made the effort to get me down here specifically, but then you didn’t trust me enough to keep me in the loop. If you want me here, don’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie!”

“Not telling me was lying. Don’t do it again.”

He turned and left her room.

So much for thinking they both knew they were meant for each other.

She lay back down, shaking and completely clueless as to what the morning would bring.

*

“A lot of times, when I’m working on a tough case, I think about Jack the Ripper,” Jude told Ethan.

“Didn’t know the Krewe worked that one,” Ethan said with a smile.

“We’ve all studied the case, and drawn our own conclusions. And, actually, years ago, the Krewe did work a copycat case back in New York City. The thing is, there were all these conspiracy theories. The royal family was even implicated at one point. But I think, if the authorities had the forensic abilities we have now, they would have discovered that the killer wasn’t a lofty prince but a poor butcher or some whacked-out laborer who hated prostitutes.”

“And this is relevant how?” Ethan asked skeptically.

“I think sometimes we look for a complicated solution when there’s a more obvious answer that turns out to be the right one.”

“I’m not sure that applies to this case,” Ethan said. “The killer is organized, and both murders were carried out in the same way. He—or she—made sure the bodies would be discovered soon, but not immediately. Both men were lured to their deaths, I’m certain of it. What we’re still looking for is the reason for them to have been wearing their uniforms. I think we’re on the right trail, but I agree to a point. I don’t think the murders are part of a big conspiracy to start a race riot, or anything like that. I know there’s a reason behind all this. We’re just not seeing what it is yet.”

They were seated at the table in the Moreau dining room, and it was seven in the morning. Jude and Alexi had flown into Baton Rouge late the night before. Alexi was on her way to New Orleans to make the final arrangements for the “Belle Sisters” to perform on the next voyage of the Journey. Clara, the third member of the trio, would arrive in New Orleans the following day, along with Thor Erikson, another recent addition to the Krewe. Thor hailed from Alaska, so the Southern heat was going to be a real shock to his system.