Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(70)

“I think I know the place you’re talking about,” Ethan said. “Thank you for picking us up.”

Shelley nodded and got into her car. Charlie immediately took the backseat, allowing Ethan the front.

As they drove, they discussed the Journey, the historic plantations they would be passing, even the weather. Once they were seated inside the small mom-and-pop coffee shop that was their destination, Shelley quickly went into high gear.

“When Albion was found murdered, I thought my heart broke in two,” she said. “Then, when Farrell was killed...well, I felt like whatever was left of my heart had been shattered completely. I don’t say that for pity, because I’m strong, and I’m going to be fine. Albion had never married, and he had no children of his own, but I’m a widow—I went back to my maiden name—and I have two daughters. They both live in California now, but they came home quickly to be with me. And I have cousins and nephews and nieces, friends. I’m surrounded by those who love me. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

“I would never offer pity, but you do have my deepest sympathy,” Ethan said. “I have to ask, though... Did anyone else know about you and Farrell?”

“Well,” Shelley said, looking toward Charlie, “your father knew, of course.” She turned back to Ethan. “But otherwise, no. I hadn’t even told my daughters. When Albion was killed, I had to wonder if it was a hate crime. But when Farrell was killed, too, I didn’t see how it could be. No, what I believe is that they somehow crossed someone.” She turned to Charlie again, and reached for her hand. “You found Farrell,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Charlie said.

“Thank you. Otherwise he might have lain there for a very long time.”

“I’m just hoping that finding him sooner was also better, that it will make it easier to catch the killer,” Charlie said.

Shelley nodded. “I just know whoever did it, he didn’t do it because of Farrell and me. And I can’t believe one of our friends would have had anything against Farrell or Albion. Our friends are professors, musicians, actors and painters, all professions that tend to skew very liberal.” She paused for a moment. “You have to understand, they were both good men. I can’t think of anything they were involved in that would have upset anybody, especially not upsetting them enough to commit murder.” She sighed. “I honestly have no clue why they were targeted, but I brought you a list of the causes they were involved with—names and addresses and everything.”

“This is going to be very helpful, Ms. Corley. I can’t thank you enough,” Ethan told her.

She smiled. “You’re welcome. I didn’t know what else to do. I called the police and asked about Albion’s body, because I need to plan his funeral. They’re not releasing him yet, though. Or Farrell. With Farrell... Well, I’ll be attending that funeral, naturally. But his son will be planning it, and his body won’t be released to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Charlie murmured.

“As I said, I’m fine. I have a great support system. But thank you. Just find out who killed them. And don’t worry, I’m not going to go to the police. If I did, they’d just start questioning my family. Or Farrell’s son. And if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that no one in our families did this.”

Shelley’s certainty reminded Charlie of her own certainty of her father’s innocence.

Suddenly Shelley turned to her. “I know it must be difficult to talk about, so I apologize for asking, but how did you find Farrell, Ms. Moreau?”

Charlie was taken by surprise. “I— We had been filming in the area. I was looking for missing props.”

Shelley studied her, as if trying to decide whether to believe her explanation or not. Finally she smiled. “You’re a lovely young woman, and I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through here. And your father’s a fine man. I never knew him well, but I know my cousin and Farrell thought very highly of him.”

“Thank you,” Charlie said, and smiled herself. “I rather like him myself.”

“Albion said your mom has been gone a while.”

“Yes.”

“But her family, so they say, had a...feel for the dead.”

Charlie looked at Ethan. He shrugged to let her know she didn’t have to answer. But before she had a chance to even think of how to answer, Shelley spoke again.

“Has either of them, Farrell or Albion, spoken to you? Come to you in, say, a dream?”

“I’m so sorry, no,” Charlie said, and glanced at Ethan again.

“If they do,” Shelley whispered, “will you listen?”

“Of course,” Charlie promised. “Ethan...?”

Shelley turned and looked at Ethan. “So that’s how it is. They speak to you, too. I guess what they say is true. Your unit is special. The Krewe of Hunters, isn’t that what they call you? I googled some of their past cases. I doubted any government agency would go beyond the obvious, but I seem to have been wrong, and that gives me hope you’ll find the man who killed Farrell and Albion.”

“We’re committed to that,” Ethan assured her.

“Yes, we are,” Charlie said.

Shelley patted her hand, as if satisfied, then looked at Ethan. “I hope you’ll talk to the charities on that list I gave you. There’s a no-kill animal shelter. One that focuses on historic preservation and another that’s trying to regulate the number of oil rigs in the Gulf, even one dedicated to saving a single historic church in Baton Rouge. I hope you meant it when you said the list will help you.”