Krewe of Hunters 1 Phantom Evil by Heather Graham Page A

senator’s bodyguard, Blake Conroy. He was clean-shaven bald, and muscled like a Titan.
    Another tall man, lean and almost elegant looking, got out of the car. He seemed to be about thirty-five, and moved with a fluid grace—and darting eyes. More than the bodyguard, he seemed to be on the lookout. He had to be Martin DuPre, the senator’s aide.
    She’d seen pictures of Senator Holloway. He was a striking man, as tall as the chauffeur, solid and lean in build, with graying dark hair and a face that was well sculpted, but showing signs of strain and character. Sad in a way that she felt as if her heart tightened, watching him.
    He looked up at the house and saw her looking down, and for a moment, his weathered features tensed; his hand came to his chest, tightly clenched.
    She realized she was standing where his wife would have stood.
    Before falling.
    Before being pushed.
    Before dying.
    She winced, and perhaps her horror at her accidental faux pas was evident, because he smiled at her then, lifted a hand and waved.
    Then Jackson stepped out from the dining room doors below to greet the senator, and she quickly stepped away from the balcony and back into the bedroom.
    She paused for a minute, wondering if she might feel anything of the woman who had lived here so briefly.
    But there was nothing, and so she started to leave the room. And then, as she did so, she thought that she felt something. A touch on her cheek. A gentle touch. Something so light it might have been imagined.
    â€œRegina?” she said softly.
    But again, there was nothing. And so she hurried down the stairs, anxious to meet the senator—and the men who followed behind him.

CHAPTER SIX
    â€œGood to meet you, Mr. Crow. You know, I’m grateful to Adam Harrison for setting up this team.” Age became Senator Holloway. He was barely forty but looked more like fifty—a good fifty. His graying hair was left alone to gray. He had good teeth when he tried to offer a smile, and his handshake was firm.
    â€œWe’re here to do everything that we can,” Jackson assured him.
    He turned. Angela, a little breathless, had come out the doors to stand behind him and to his side.
    â€œMiss Hawkins?” the senator asked, offering a hand.
    â€œYes, I’m Angela,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. And I’m so sorry. I saw the way that you looked up at me, and—”
    â€œNot to worry,” David Holloway told her. His smile was poignant. “I thought I saw an angel standing there for a minute.I understand you’re here to investigate, and that’s where you need to be in order to investigate.”
    â€œSenator Holloway, you did find your wife, right?” Jackson asked him.
    Holloway looked over at Jackson. “You know that, of course. You’ve read the police reports.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I need you to go over everything again. With me,” Jackson said.
    â€œWhy don’t we go inside,” Angela suggested. She looked at the senator steadily. “Regina had an amazing talent as a decorator and homemaker. The house was coming along beautifully.”
    â€œYes, she was talented, wasn’t she?” the senator said. He looked up at the house for a minute, as if he wanted to refuse to go in. But he said, “I like the kitchen.”
    â€œWe’ll go hang around the kitchen table then,” Angela said.
    â€œLet me introduce everyone and make sure I’ve got it right, but even without files…” Jackson said, smiling. “I’m Jackson Crow, and this is Angela Hawkins. You are Blake Conroy, bodyguard, right?” He said to the massive bald man. He didn’t think that a man with so much bulk—even muscled bulk—might have scaled walls. “And, Martin DuPre,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “We may be calling on you frequently, Martin.” DuPre’s Armani suit couldn’t conceal his