Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(90)

16

Television shows and B movies were filled with people who behaved irrationally, teenagers going off alone into the woods where a murderer walked and ending up dead themselves.

If she’d ever been asked if she would behave so stupidly, Charlie would have said no. Emphatically. In fact, she would have mocked the mere possibility.

But she’d never thought about what she would do when someone she loved was threatened.

Her father. Her whole world, for so much of her life!

If she survived the night—a big if—Ethan would probably never speak to her again.

But she had the picture. They weren’t bluffing. They had her father.

And once she arrived, they would still have him. The big difference? They would have her, too.

But that didn’t matter. She had to go. She had to do whatever was in her power to, if not save her father, at least buy time. But...

If she went to meet them with nothing, she would be entirely at their mercy. She wasn’t about to be that foolish.

She hesitated, looking at the bedside table where Ethan kept his gun at night. Of course it wasn’t there. Hating herself for doing it, she dug into his travel pack. To her relief, at the very bottom, she found a second weapon in a holster. She thanked God her father had taught her how to shoot. His second gun was a Smith & Wesson Bodyguard revolver. She quickly checked that it was loaded, then she slipped it into her waistband and threw on a jacket.

There was one thing she could do, and she did it. She left the phone on her bed. Ethan would find it.

Very carefully, she cracked the door to her cabin.

Jude was waiting in the hall.

“Hey,” she said. “Sorry, but can you give me another ten minutes?”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

Damn, he was going to stay in the hallway.

“Tell Alexi and Clara I’m fine, will you? I promise I’ll call as soon as I’m ready.”

“Will do.”

She heard his cabin door close. Silently, she slipped out and hurried down the hallway and made her way to the security point where she could exit the ship. There was a man on duty, of course, so she couldn’t just glide by unseen. No choice. She produced her Journey ID, smiled and told the guard—who knew her both as her father’s daughter and one of the Southern Belles—that she needed something at her house. He smiled and let her through.

Easy enough so far.

The others would find the picture on her phone, then have no trouble discovering that she’d left the ship, and soon enough they would be behind her. But that was what she’d wanted, right? If she and her father were going to die, at least she was certain the Krewe would catch their killers.

Once off the ship, she panicked. There weren’t a lot of cabs around at this hour, and she’d left her phone behind, so she couldn’t call for one.

And the clock was ticking.

She hurried to one of the main hotels and had the doorman call her a cab. The driver informed her that it was late and Grace Church was closed until the morning, but she only thanked him for his concern and said she knew that, and it was okay.

He left her in front of the church.

For a moment she paused and stared up at the facade of the church, so beautiful in the moonlight.

“Charlie?”

She spun around, her heart in her throat. To her surprise, she saw Barry Seymour on the ground, propped against the fence that went around the graveyard to the church. Blood was dripping down his forehead.

“Barry!” she cried. “What happened to you?”

“I came out because we lost some props again,” he said. “I stopped here to look at the church, like you just did, and suddenly someone hit me.”

She hunkered down, trying to ascertain how badly he’d been injured.

“I’m okay, I just need to get out of here.” He paused, looking at her. “I think it was Jimmy, but...why?”

“Jimmy?” she said, disbelieving.

Jimmy Smith? Her friend forever and ever?

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Barry, let me help you. I have to hurry—they have my father!”

“Your father? What?” He tried to stand but fell back, unable to get his feet under him. “I’d help you, but I can’t quite...get up.”

“I don’t have my cell, Barry. Use yours. Call for help.”

He nodded and pulled out his phone. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s my head. I feel so dizzy. Watch out, okay? Watch out for Jimmy.”

“I will.” She was torn. “I have to find my dad, but...are you sure you’re all right? Until help can get here?”

He nodded.

“Then I have to go.” She suddenly remembered the caller’s—Jimmy’s?—warning. “Barry, this is important. Tell them no lights and no sirens. If Ji—if whoever it is knows they’re coming, they’ll kill my dad. Okay? Do you understand me?”

He nodded again, so Charlie left him to call for help and hurried past the graveyard toward unhallowed ground.

The trees and foliage grew denser, the shadows deeper, as she went, and she had to slow down, even though everything in her longed to run. Only thin strands of moonlight penetrated the darkness, but she knew where the grave was, knew exactly where to go.

She made her way carefully through brush and over tree roots. Then, in the distance, cloaked in shadow, she saw the gravestone and the man bound to it.