Read Online Krewe of Hunters The Unseen by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Graham
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also acted like a law unto ourselves. Those days are over—for all their brilliance. We’re a respected law enforcement agency. We serve a higher god, you might say.
And that’s the thing, Logan. No matter how you look at it, we’re part of the greater good.”
He had neatly sidestepped the real conversation.
Alana.
Logan remained silent.
“Logan, the feds have way more power than I can ever have or give,” he said in a resigned voice. “And this team the government wants to set up—it has a direct connection to the most powerful law enforcement men in the country. Anything that can be done within constitutional limits will be done. Warrants achieved at all hours of the day or night. In any city, any state of the Union. The right to cross geographical boundaries to chase the truth. I’ve heard that the man responsible for creating these teams has the White House on speed dial. But more than that, Logan, they have what you need, and you have what they need.” He had what they needed.
Sitting there, he suddenly felt defeated. Nothing seemed real. He’d been pretending that his life could return to IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
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normal. Playing at being a good Ranger, following the clues, investigating leads. If he didn’t think about Alana, he could look back on his life as if it were history, as distant as the events at the Alamo.
“It’s a unique opportunity,” Bentley said.
Logan didn’t have anything more to say to Bentley. Except this, “I still have time,” he said as he rose from his chair.
“Yes.”
He exited the office, pausing at the door to turn around.
“Thanks, Captain.”
“Raintree, you’re a great officer. I’ll be sorry to lose you.” Logan didn’t deny that Bentley had lost him. But he wasn’t sure yet. He’d know in the morning.
Kelsey couldn’t decide where to go.
Her mind was spinning. She should get back to the Longhorn, log on to her computer and look up everything she could find on Jackson Crow and Adam Harrison and the Krewe of Hunters. But she wasn’t ready to go back yet; she wasn’t ready for questions or even for Corey Simmons and the ghosts of a century gone.
She needed to mull over the meeting.
She parked her rental car by the Alamo. She’d taken the tour several days ago. But there was something special about the place, an aura of a certain time, the acts of men who’d changed history.
And she couldn’t forget the recording she’d just heard.
Chelsea Martin at the Alamo, laughing at first, happy as she talked to a friend. Then…gone.
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And
now…
Dead.
She wandered aimlessly for a while, watching as a group worked with schoolchildren, reenacting what had occurred at the fort. She gathered that one man was playing the role of Davy Crockett, and another, that of twenty-six-year-old Lieutenant Colonel Travis, who’d run the battle—since his co-commander, Jim Bowie, was in bed, probably dying, and probably of tuberculosis. A few men were playing other defenders, those who hadn’t gone down in history with such giant names and reputations, but who had died there nonetheless.
She listened to them, impressed. The actors were doing a brilliant job, bringing the situation to life. The men they portrayed were tired. They spoke of day-to-day things—
their meals, scouting expeditions, their exhaustion, their desire for more comfortable beds.
She was so busy watching them that she hardly noticed when a man sat next to her. Then she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision, and became instantly aware. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was.
There was no mistaking Logan Raintree. The best of many cultures had mixed in his face, a face as cleanly sculpted as a marble bust, with high broad cheekbones and a determined chin. He wasn’t beautiful, but he was one of the most imposing men she’d
And that’s the thing, Logan. No matter how you look at it, we’re part of the greater good.”
He had neatly sidestepped the real conversation.
Alana.
Logan remained silent.
“Logan, the feds have way more power than I can ever have or give,” he said in a resigned voice. “And this team the government wants to set up—it has a direct connection to the most powerful law enforcement men in the country. Anything that can be done within constitutional limits will be done. Warrants achieved at all hours of the day or night. In any city, any state of the Union. The right to cross geographical boundaries to chase the truth. I’ve heard that the man responsible for creating these teams has the White House on speed dial. But more than that, Logan, they have what you need, and you have what they need.” He had what they needed.
Sitting there, he suddenly felt defeated. Nothing seemed real. He’d been pretending that his life could return to IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
9780778313298_HC.indd 67
11-12-01 3:55 PM
68
normal. Playing at being a good Ranger, following the clues, investigating leads. If he didn’t think about Alana, he could look back on his life as if it were history, as distant as the events at the Alamo.
“It’s a unique opportunity,” Bentley said.
Logan didn’t have anything more to say to Bentley. Except this, “I still have time,” he said as he rose from his chair.
“Yes.”
He exited the office, pausing at the door to turn around.
“Thanks, Captain.”
“Raintree, you’re a great officer. I’ll be sorry to lose you.” Logan didn’t deny that Bentley had lost him. But he wasn’t sure yet. He’d know in the morning.
Kelsey couldn’t decide where to go.
Her mind was spinning. She should get back to the Longhorn, log on to her computer and look up everything she could find on Jackson Crow and Adam Harrison and the Krewe of Hunters. But she wasn’t ready to go back yet; she wasn’t ready for questions or even for Corey Simmons and the ghosts of a century gone.
She needed to mull over the meeting.
She parked her rental car by the Alamo. She’d taken the tour several days ago. But there was something special about the place, an aura of a certain time, the acts of men who’d changed history.
And she couldn’t forget the recording she’d just heard.
Chelsea Martin at the Alamo, laughing at first, happy as she talked to a friend. Then…gone.
IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012
9780778313298_HC.indd 68
11-12-01 3:55 PM
69
And
now…
Dead.
She wandered aimlessly for a while, watching as a group worked with schoolchildren, reenacting what had occurred at the fort. She gathered that one man was playing the role of Davy Crockett, and another, that of twenty-six-year-old Lieutenant Colonel Travis, who’d run the battle—since his co-commander, Jim Bowie, was in bed, probably dying, and probably of tuberculosis. A few men were playing other defenders, those who hadn’t gone down in history with such giant names and reputations, but who had died there nonetheless.
She listened to them, impressed. The actors were doing a brilliant job, bringing the situation to life. The men they portrayed were tired. They spoke of day-to-day things—
their meals, scouting expeditions, their exhaustion, their desire for more comfortable beds.
She was so busy watching them that she hardly noticed when a man sat next to her. Then she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision, and became instantly aware. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was.
There was no mistaking Logan Raintree. The best of many cultures had mixed in his face, a face as cleanly sculpted as a marble bust, with high broad cheekbones and a determined chin. He wasn’t beautiful, but he was one of the most imposing men she’d
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