“We’re dealing with a brazen killer who planned this very well,” Logan said.

“He got sloppy, though. Not enough mulch over the corpse, which was left in a place the killer hadn’t really known all that well. We found hairs, but judging by the color, I’m thinking they’ll be consistent with Sandy Holly’s. We’re pretty sure it was the two of them who had sex—the lab is testing the sheets now.”

“Thanks, Kat.”

“I’ll keep you informed.”

When he started out, she called him back. “Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to join the unit?”

“Are you?”

“Oh, yes! Are you kidding me? I’ll get to run the show. I’ll have funds I never dreamed of. Definitely. But then, I worked for some real good old boys before. You’ve been a respected Ranger.”

Logan paused and then nodded. “I have to admit I like having the power to call the shots. I like the way we keep moving and pool different resources. Yeah, I’ll probably take it.”

He left the morgue and drove to the station, anxious to hear about further developments.

* * *

Alice White was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties. She was cordial when she met Kelsey, and they sat at one of the café tables, sipping coffee.

“I don’t know if this means anything at all,” she told Kelsey apologetically. “It’s just that the man was behaving so strangely. We were at the little desks next to each other, and although he didn’t exactly hide the screen with his body, it seemed like he was trying to. And I wasn’t the slightest bit interested in reading his email! I was being polite.”

“What did he look like?” Kelsey asked.

“A buffoon,” Alice said. “So much makeup—fake hair, beard, mustache. I wondered how he made a living as an actor or reenactor, or tour guide. I mean, if he was giving ghost tours, a crowd of four-year-olds would’ve thought he was hokey.”

“Do you remember anything else? Eye color, anything like that?” Kelsey asked.

Alice frowned, trying to remember. “I think he wore contact lenses.”

“Colored contacts?”

“Yes. You know how contacts can catch the light in a funny way? And the color was kind of murky. Maybe it was meant to be…or it might’ve been like blue over brown or something. I’m not sure.” She paused, frowning again.

“Height? Weight?” Kelsey asked.

“Um, medium,” Alice said, adjusting a bangle bracelet on her arm. “Not too tall, not too heavy. I’m sorry, I’m not a very good witness. Once when I was here, he came in and when I sat down near him, he got up and walked out. It was hard not to notice him. Like I said—a buffoon.”

“What was he wearing?”

“He had on some kind of trousers made out of hide, or fake hide.” Alice paused. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“I’m sure the information you’ve given us is going to be very helpful,” Kelsey said.

“There was just something so odd about him, and I’m not the only one who noticed it,” Alice told her. “Yet he seemed sort of familiar, too.”

“In what way?”

“I’m not sure…. Just an impression, you know? But there was a young man who passed through here. One day, when old creepy-actor gave me one of his scowls, the young guy looked at me and said, ‘That dude’s a freak. Something’s not right.’”

“If I bring a sketch artist in, could you give us a description?” Kelsey asked.

“I’ll do my best,” Alice said. “There’s a little office back there that Shelby will let us use.”

Kelsey called Jane, who came over from the station immediately and sat down with Alice in Shelby’s private office, Kelsey marveled at the dexterity in Jane’s fingers as she quickly sketched and an image appeared.

“It looks like Blackbeard meets frontierman,” Jane said.

“The cheekbones should be a little higher, and the eyes a little farther apart,” Alice told her.

Jane erased and changed, and showed Alice the picture again.

“Yes, yes, that’s very close,” Alice said.

When they’d finished the sketch, Kelsey could see that Alice White was growing restless, glancing at her watch; she needed to pick up her children. Kelsey thanked her, and let her go. Jane went back to the station with the sketch so the others could see it. When she’d gone, Sean came over to where Kelsey was standing, saying goodbye to Jane.

“I’ve got something I want to show you,” he said. “We might have found one of our other girls. Log-in name is psychicchic. She had a similar line of correspondence going with our suspect, Mr.Alamo, on a social network.”

Kelsey followed him to the computer and read the messages between the two. Psychicchic had posted about a séance she’d attended and how the medium had turned to her for help. She bragged about the ghosts she’d contacted. Mr.Alamo started out by doubting her, then pressing her about proving she had real ability. She could stretch her talents, he said, by coming to the Alamo. “There’s her picture,” Sean pointed out. “I’ll run it off and see what kind of matchup we can get. And I’ll try to trace her—find out if she’s missing. The only picture of Mr.Alamo is right there.” He pointed at a small image on the screen.

“That’s Davy Crockett,” Kelsey said.

“That’s what it is,” Sean agreed. “Okay, I’m going to the station now. Do you want to drive in with me?”

Kelsey shook her head. “I’m going to the Longhorn. I’ll wait for Logan there. Call me if you come up with anything else.”

“Kelsey…” Sean started to speak, but his voice drifted off. There wasn’t much to say.

“She’s been gone overnight now, Sean. And Jeff Chasson’s dead. I’m really afraid it’s not looking good.”

“Yeah, but keep the faith,” he said. “I can drop you at the inn.”

“No, that’s okay. I like the walk.”

When Sean left, she thanked the manager for all his assistance—and his coffee. He assured her he’d be there if she needed anything else.

She walked to the Longhorn and looked over at the Alamo and the plaza, struck by how beautiful the city could be.

When she entered the saloon, some of the cowboys were there, and Bernie Firestone and Earl Candy might as well have been fixtures on their stools.

Ricky, meanwhile, was looking lost and forlorn, wiping a glass as he stood behind the bar.

Kelsey went over to greet them. All three were glum.

“Anything new, Kelsey? Anything?” Ricky asked.

“As you’ve probably heard, they found Jeff Chasson’s body, but no trace of Sandy, so there’s still hope,” Kelsey said.

“Jeez.” Earl stared into his beer. “I hated that bastard. He was a royal pain to work with, but…”

“Looks like we’re all done filming,” Bernie said. He raised his glass. “To Jeff. May there be a big audience to greet him in the sky!”

“I guess the documentary is…” Kelsey began.

“Dead?” Bernie asked her dryly. “No, we have enough to put together a film. And, trust me, it’ll sell.”

“Well, that’s good,” Kelsey said. “For everyone who’s invested time and money in it. And it’ll be a way of honoring Jeff.”

Bernie nodded. “Who would’ve thought he’d die like that?” He shivered. “You know,” he said quietly. “It seemed to be just women in danger. But now, no one’s safe. I hope you catch the bastard.”

“Me, too,” Kelsey murmured, glancing around the bar. A number of men from the rodeo were at various tables, including Corey Simmons, who sat alone. He saw her watching him, and lifted his glass, his eyes grave.

She made her way over to him. “Corey, you okay?”

“I was. But I just heard about Chasson. And that Sandy’s disappeared into thin air.” He grimaced. “This place isn’t just haunted. It’s cursed. I’ve got two more days to make some money bull riding, and then I’m out of here.”

She patted his shoulder. “I don’t believe a place can be cursed, Corey. People bring their own grief and guilt, but a place isn’t cursed.”

As she talked to him, the doors swung open and she saw that Ted Murphy had returned. He headed straight for the bar to take the seat next to Bernie Firestone and ordered a beer. He met Kelsey’s eyes. “I’ve been doing anything you all have asked me to get those pictures out there. I’m doing whatever I can to get the public involved,” he said defensively.

“I wasn’t going to attack you, Ted.”

“I’m ready to do whatever will help. The whole community is in a state of shock,” he said. “Everyone’s scared.”

“That includes me. I’ll be closing up early,” Ricky told her. He leaned on the bar and whispered, “I gave Jackson Crow the names of our overnight guests. He ran them through some computer—goes all over the country—and at least we don’t have anyone with anything worse than a parking ticket!”

“I’m sure we’re safe here. I noticed there’s a police car outside.”

“I wish they’d left Tyler, but this is a new guy. I felt safer with Ranger Montague. The one out there, well, he seems to be dozing with his hat on. Wish he’d come in and stare people down the way Montague did.”

“Well, I’m here, Ricky, if you need me.”

“Thanks,” he murmured. “What the hell made Sandy go off with that guy?” he demanded loudly.

“Sex,” Ted Murphy answered. “Chasson always told me he could pick up a woman and get laid any night he wanted.” He cleared his throat, realizing he was talking to close friends of the missing woman. “Ms. Holly is very attractive, and Jeff Chasson could be extremely…seductive.”