Krewe of Hunters 2 Heart of Evil by Heather Graham Page B

flared in the lovely little place with its stained-glass windows, marble altar and old mahogany podium.
    The place was empty.
    â€œHappy?” Cliff asked her.
    â€œNo. I can’t help it—I’m worried,” she told him.
    He just shook his head. “Come on. Let’s just go.”
    They walked back to the house, where the others were still milling on the back porch—many of them having retrieved their drinks.
    â€œSo, the bastard did get lucky!” Ramsay said, laughing. “Hell, if I had foreseen that, I’d have had him play Marshall Donegal a couple of years ago!”
    â€œI’m going to call the police,” Ashley said, looking at her grandfather.
    â€œHe’s been missing just a few hours,” Beth pointed out. “He might have thought that he said good-night to everyone. There’s so much confusion going on when the fighting ends. I mean, I thought it was amazing—it really was living history. But it’s mass confusion. I can only imagine a Gettysburg reenactment.”
    Ashley realized that everyone was staring at her—skeptically. They had searched and searched, and grown bored and tired. But she couldn’t help her feelings of unease, even while they all stood silent, just staring at her.
    The river breeze brought the chirp of the chickadees—her senses were so attuned to her home area that somewhere, distantly, down the bayou, she thought she could hear an alligator slip into the water. This was her home; she knew these sounds.
    They were normal; they were natural. But the sounds of the darkness weren’t reassuring to her now.
    â€œGrampa, I think we need to report this to the police,” she repeated.
    â€œGreat. He’s probably at some bar in the big city,bragging about the fact that he got to play Marshall Donegal today,” Ramsay said. “And they’ll drag him out and he’ll act like a two-year-old again.”
    Frazier stared at Ashley and nodded. If she wanted to call the police, they would do so.
    The parish police were called, and Officer Drew Montague, a nice-enough man whom Ashley had met a few times over the years, took all the information.
    â€œYou say you all saw him just a few hours ago?” he asked. Montague had a thick head of dark hair and eyebrows that met in the middle.
    â€œYes,” she said.
    â€œWhat makes you think that he’s actually missing? Perhaps there’s a woman involved. Is he married? Look, Miss Donegal, you know that we appreciate everything that you do for the area, but…we’re talking about a grown man who has been gone just a few hours,” the officer said.
    â€œHe was proud of the role he was playing. He would have stayed,” Ashley insisted.
    Officer Montague shifted his weight. “Look, I’ve taken the report, and I’ll put out a local bulletin to be on the lookout for him, but he’s an adult. An adult really needs to be gone for forty-eight hours before he is officially missing.”
    Frazier spoke before Ashley could. “Anything you can do will be greatly appreciated. We’re always proud that the parish is about people, and not just red tape and rules.”
    Montague nodded. “Right. Well, I’ll get this moving, then. We’ll all be on the lookout for Mr. Osgood.”
    Ashley thanked him. The others had remained behind, politely and patiently waiting. Now it was really late, and once again there were a number of weary men and women—all still in Civil War–era attire—staring at her.
    Officer Montague left, mollified by Frazier Donegal over the fact that he had been called out on a ridiculous mission.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Ashley said to the others. The evening had started out as a party and turned into a search committee.
    â€œHey,” Cliff said, grinning, “I don’t have far to go home.”
    â€œWe’re staying in the stables anyway, kid,” Justin Binder told her.