it.
Rory Norton had viciously killed at least a dozen people. He’d shot anyone who had gone against him, and if he hadn’t carried out the murder himself, he’d ordered it.
He’d also been responsible for dozens of other deaths with the hardcore drugs he’d supplied.
If Logan hadn’t been so determined to bring him down, if he’d let another Ranger or another law enforcement agent take him in…
“We can carry guilt all the way to the grave,” Kelsey said. “That’s so sad.” She stood suddenly. “We have to go and speak with him.”
Logan groaned. “In broad daylight—two of us talking to a ghost? Kelsey, there are going to be tourists all over right now!”
He realized he’d just called her by her given name for the first time. She hadn’t even noticed.
“Yes, but we need to find out what your friend knows.”
“He’s not actually what you’d call a friend,” Logan said.
“Why
not?”
“He’s a ghost.”
“But
he
was living, and he must like you— I think he was trying to talk to you yesterday when you were so rude!”
“I wasn’t rude. He wanted to make me look foolish in front of you, and I didn’t appreciate it.” IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
9780778313298_HC.indd 93
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94
“Logan, he was trying to speak to you,” she insisted.
“He would’ve told me if he’d known anything,” Logan said again.
“ You didn’t learn about this last disappearance until yesterday.”
“That’s true, but if Zachary had seen a woman in distress, he would have mentioned it.”
“Maybe he didn’t realize a woman was in distress.” Logan thought about the morgue, and how the corpse had opened its eyes. “Tara said she was attacked in the darkness,” he murmured. “She didn’t say she was at the Alamo.”
“I’ve been in the plaza at night, and even with the lights that focus on the chapel, it can be very dark. And the areas surrounding it are dark, too. But we do know that Chelsea’s last conversation with her friend took place at the Alamo. The conversation that was interrupted by what she called ‘a man in costume’—and by that voice we heard on the tape. Logan! What’s the matter with you? We actually have someone who could steer us in the right direction, and you’re hesitating.”
He stood. “Fine. Let’s go to the Alamo.” They sat on the same bench and watched as tourists came and went. It wasn’t hot; the sun was bright and the day was beautiful. But Logan was anxious, worrying about the dozen tangible things they could be doing instead.
Mothers pushed infants in strollers, dads walked by holding the hands of toddlers. The citizens of San Antonio, along with the many tourists visiting the Alamo, passed by.
IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
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95
They waited an hour, and there was no sign of Zachary Chase.
“I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he come?” Kelsey asked.
“He’s a ghost. He appears when he chooses to,” Logan said. He hid a smile, looking at her. She was wearing a business suit again, this one a navy pinstripe with an attractive f lare to the jacket and a tailored pale blue blouse beneath it. She wore little heels, maybe an inch high. They must look like an odd couple, with her so formally, even severely, dressed and him in jeans and a buckskin jacket.
He was never without his service weapon, though. It was hidden by his jacket.
“Isn’t there a way for you to contact him?” she asked, her eyes brilliant as she turned to him.
“What? Call him on his cell phone?”
She grimaced and wagged a finger at him. “We might’ve lost a valuable opportunity yesterday. You have to learn not to be so hostile.”
“I’m not hostile.”
“You just said that with tremendous hostility,” she said.
He started to laugh; despite their circumstances, she could somehow make him feel lighter.
But then his laughter faded.
A black bird suddenly landed in front of his feet.
Rory Norton had viciously killed at least a dozen people. He’d shot anyone who had gone against him, and if he hadn’t carried out the murder himself, he’d ordered it.
He’d also been responsible for dozens of other deaths with the hardcore drugs he’d supplied.
If Logan hadn’t been so determined to bring him down, if he’d let another Ranger or another law enforcement agent take him in…
“We can carry guilt all the way to the grave,” Kelsey said. “That’s so sad.” She stood suddenly. “We have to go and speak with him.”
Logan groaned. “In broad daylight—two of us talking to a ghost? Kelsey, there are going to be tourists all over right now!”
He realized he’d just called her by her given name for the first time. She hadn’t even noticed.
“Yes, but we need to find out what your friend knows.”
“He’s not actually what you’d call a friend,” Logan said.
“Why
not?”
“He’s a ghost.”
“But
he
was living, and he must like you— I think he was trying to talk to you yesterday when you were so rude!”
“I wasn’t rude. He wanted to make me look foolish in front of you, and I didn’t appreciate it.” IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
9780778313298_HC.indd 93
11-12-01 3:55 PM
94
“Logan, he was trying to speak to you,” she insisted.
“He would’ve told me if he’d known anything,” Logan said again.
“ You didn’t learn about this last disappearance until yesterday.”
“That’s true, but if Zachary had seen a woman in distress, he would have mentioned it.”
“Maybe he didn’t realize a woman was in distress.” Logan thought about the morgue, and how the corpse had opened its eyes. “Tara said she was attacked in the darkness,” he murmured. “She didn’t say she was at the Alamo.”
“I’ve been in the plaza at night, and even with the lights that focus on the chapel, it can be very dark. And the areas surrounding it are dark, too. But we do know that Chelsea’s last conversation with her friend took place at the Alamo. The conversation that was interrupted by what she called ‘a man in costume’—and by that voice we heard on the tape. Logan! What’s the matter with you? We actually have someone who could steer us in the right direction, and you’re hesitating.”
He stood. “Fine. Let’s go to the Alamo.” They sat on the same bench and watched as tourists came and went. It wasn’t hot; the sun was bright and the day was beautiful. But Logan was anxious, worrying about the dozen tangible things they could be doing instead.
Mothers pushed infants in strollers, dads walked by holding the hands of toddlers. The citizens of San Antonio, along with the many tourists visiting the Alamo, passed by.
IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
9780778313298_HC.indd 94
11-12-01 3:55 PM
95
They waited an hour, and there was no sign of Zachary Chase.
“I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he come?” Kelsey asked.
“He’s a ghost. He appears when he chooses to,” Logan said. He hid a smile, looking at her. She was wearing a business suit again, this one a navy pinstripe with an attractive f lare to the jacket and a tailored pale blue blouse beneath it. She wore little heels, maybe an inch high. They must look like an odd couple, with her so formally, even severely, dressed and him in jeans and a buckskin jacket.
He was never without his service weapon, though. It was hidden by his jacket.
“Isn’t there a way for you to contact him?” she asked, her eyes brilliant as she turned to him.
“What? Call him on his cell phone?”
She grimaced and wagged a finger at him. “We might’ve lost a valuable opportunity yesterday. You have to learn not to be so hostile.”
“I’m not hostile.”
“You just said that with tremendous hostility,” she said.
He started to laugh; despite their circumstances, she could somehow make him feel lighter.
But then his laughter faded.
A black bird suddenly landed in front of his feet.
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