Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(89)

“Oh, well, I told you. I needed it. I had to replace my phone. I spent it in town. Got the new phone, though,” he said happily.

Randy pointed a finger at him. “First thing in the morning, we’re going into town. And you better hope we can find that cash.”

“Are you—are you going to arrest me?” Ricky asked. “It was a prank, just a prank!”

Ethan turned away in disgust. Just then his phone rang.

Jude was calling.

As always, Jude spoke tersely but calmly and cohesively. Jonathan Moreau was missing. He ran through the whole story of finding Jennie McPherson in Jonathan’s cabin and everything she’d told them. He said Charlie was beside herself, pretty much frantic, but she was safe with Alexi and Clara in the cabin he and Alexi were sharing.

“I’m on my way,” Ethan said. “And I’m still with Laurent. He’ll get an APB out.”

He turned around and gave Randy Laurent the same information he’d just received.

“You. Be here and be ready to go first thing in the morning,” Randy snapped to Ricky.

“Yes, whatever you say. I’ll be right here, I swear. But... I’m not under arrest?” Ricky asked. “And you’re not...not going to tell the captain?”

Randy didn’t answer. He, Ethan and Thor were already on their way out of the room.

“I’ll start looking for Moreau on the top deck,” Thor said. “Jude’s already called security, right?”

Ethan nodded. “I’ve got to get to Charlie,” he said.

“No problem. Everyone is on this, Ethan,” Thor assured him.

Randy nodded his agreement and said, “I’ll get the ground troops moving.”

Ethan turned and headed for the stairs. He had to get to Charlie—fast. God knew what she might do if she feared her father was in danger.

*

“I need to change,” Charlie said. “I have to get out of this corset. I need to go back to my cabin.”

Jude walked her to her door, then made her stay behind him as he checked out the small room and even smaller bathroom.

“All clear,” he said. “I’ll be with Alexi and Clara, so you call me when you’re ready, and I’ll come get you. Don’t you dare leave here until then, got it?”

“Got it,” she said, and he left. She locked the door behind him and hurried to strip out of her costume and put on jeans and a pullover. As she slipped the shirt over her head, her phone rang.

She grabbed it, hoping it was her father, ready to explain his delay.

The caller ID read Unknown Number, but she answered anyway.

“Charlie.”

Just her name—and it sounded strange, as if someone was purposely disguising his voice.

“Who is this?”

“The man who has your father.”

“What?”

Charlie sank down on the foot of the bed, her heart racing.

“We have your father. And we want to talk to you. You need to ditch the army of Feds you travel with. If you ever want to see your father alive again, that is.”

“I’ll do anything. But I have to know what you’re talking about. You have him where? What do you want me to do?”

It would be stupid, stupid, stupid to do anything this man asked her to—especially ditch the Krewe, Charlie knew. But this guy and his cohorts had her father. If they got hold of her, too, they could just kill them both. But what else could she do? She had to play for time, keep her father alive.

“How do I know you really have my father?” she asked, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

“I think you know, but I’ll text you proof. You’ve got an hour to get here.”

“You’re going to be caught. You know that, right? Murdering someone else isn’t going to help the situation. They will get you.”

“No, they won’t. Once you come and get your father, you’ll understand.”

She wished she could recognize the voice. She should. Even changed, she should have recognized it.

“Besides,” the man continued, “I’m already a murderer, so what difference will one more make? You come, Charlie, or he’s dead.”

“Come where?”

She was surprised by the laughter that followed. “I think you’ll know where once I text you. And, Charlie, if we see a cop or one of your FBI buddies, if we see you with anyone else, your daddy’s dead. I swear, I’ll kill him, even if it means I’ll be caught. I’ll kill him just to get even with you for bringing me down, you got that? I mean it. If I’m going down, he’ll go down with me. I hear or see anyone other than you, he’s dead.”

Then he clicked off, and she was left listening to nothing but the sound of her own breathing.

The phone buzzed again almost instantly. She’d received a picture.

It was of her father.

And he was tied to the same tombstone she’d been tied to once, long ago, in the unhallowed ground just beyond the Grace Church graveyard.

The picture showed Jonathan Moreau, bruised and securely bound, a man standing by his side, his face turned away from the camera.

The man held an Enfield rifle, the bayonet fixed, the point of the blade touching her father’s chest just above his heart.