wife, Trisha, had purchased the place five years ago. For them, restoring the Conway Ranch was a labor of love. They’d refurbished it with the money he’d made as a New York stockbroker, having given up the city life to return to his family roots.
A history buff from way back, he had tracked down Scarlet in New York City after discovering that she, too, had a family connection to the ranch and to him, and they’d stayed in touch when she went back to Florida, where she’d eventually married Diego. And he’d been right there with a job offer after the divorce, when she’d wanted and needed to get away.
“Scarlet! Afternoon!” Ben called out to her now from the wide porch of the main house, breaking into her thoughts.
Given the time, she realized he must have just returned from leading the afternoon trail ride, just as he did six days a week. Angus Fillmore—the quintessential cowboy, with his long white hair and beard, solid shoulders and strong arms—was still leading horses into the stables. One of the guests, Terry Ballantree, thirtyish and another descendant of Nathan Kendall, was talking animatedly to Angus, who was nodding politely but didn’t seem to be saying much. Gwen and Charles Barton, newlyweds from Mississippi, were waiting for their chance to say something to Angus, but Terry seemed to be nothing if not long-winded.
“Scarlet, I’m glad to run into you,” Ben told her, just as the head housekeeper, Linda Reagan, tall, slim and very pretty, stepped out on the porch behind him.
“Don’t forget to wipe your boots off before you come inside,” Linda said, then waved to Scarlet.
“I will, I will!” Ben promised, then joined Scarlet on the wide front lawn.
She smiled, wondering how he had ever been a stockbroker. He was fifty-five and blessed with a full head of snow-white hair that he liked to keep long. He always had a smile on his face now, which he hadn’t had when she’d first met him. The stress of working on Wall Street had kept him looking harried and worn, but now he was a happy man. He’d told her once that he was certain he’d really been made for the great outdoors.
“You’re welcome on the ride anytime,” he told her. “I know you love the horses.”
“Believe it or not, Ben, I grew up around horses.”
“South Florida? That’s beach country.”
“There are lots of horses all over the state,” she said. “I grew up in Davie. We had horses there, and my folks still do.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “So how’s it going? Are you liking the job?”
“I love it here,” she assured him. “Your collection is amazing. Colts from just about every era from the 1850s onward, Spencer repeating rifles, Smith & Wesson revolvers, Winchesters, you name it. Worth a fortune, if you wanted to sell.”
He shook his head. “My selling days are over. I’m looking forward to spending every day here, sharing all this with our guests, for the rest of my life.”
“You’re a happy man,” she said.
He grinned. “Best wife in the world and this little piece of heaven. How can I not be happy? Looks like you appreciate the place, too.” He nodded toward her camera.
“I just got a terrific picture of an elk. Big guy with a huge set of antlers.”
“Can’t bring yourself to say ‘big rack,’ huh?” he teased.
She laughed. “Honestly, it never occurred to me. One thing we don’t have in Florida are elk. Especially not elk that like to pose for you.”
“Let me see,” Ben said.
She produced her camera and hit the little button to show her stored photos.
Ben took the camera from her with a grin on his face, but his grin froze as he stared at the screen and then at her. “Where the hell were you? What is this?” he demanded, handing the camera back to her.
Startled, Scarlet took the camera and stared at the screen. There was no bull elk with majestic antlers. It was the same spot, but the picture was of a man. A man hanging from a branch of a mighty oak, blood dripping from his body to the ground.
She stared at it, stunned.
“I—I didn’t take this!” she said.
She hit the button to switch to the next picture. That one showed two people, the same man and a woman, on the ground, tangled together in a pool of blood.
She flicked backward and saw a picture of the woman while she was still alive, though just barely. A large red stain covered her midriff, her arms were thrown back and her mouth was open in an O of agony and shock. It looked as if a bullet had just ripped through her body.
Dead people. Her pictures were of dead people.
She flicked back to the shot of the couple. It was hard to tell exactly which limbs belonged to which person as they embraced in a pool of blood.
“Honestly, Scarlet, what the hell?”
“I—I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t take these. I never saw any of this. I—I was right over there,” she said, pointing.
He looked at her for a moment as if she was severely disturbed. Scarlet looked back at the camera, flicking through the many shots she had taken in search of the elk.
It wasn’t there anywhere.
Just the man and the woman...
Perhaps her stunned expression had an effect on Ben, who asked, “Can a camera be hacked?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “But I just don’t get it. I didn’t see anything like that, and I never would have taken pictures of it if I had.” She shook her head and handed the camera back to Ben, as if she couldn’t bear to touch it.
Ben studied the camera and scrolled through the shots, then stared at her, frowning. “What did you do that for?”
“Do what?”
“Erase them all.”
“I didn’t erase anything!”
“Well, they’re gone. I admit your elk is fantastic, but why on earth would you fake pictures of corpses on my property?” Ben said.
She stared at him, angry now, and totally confused. How could those vile shots have disappeared and the elk have reappeared in their place? “Really, Ben? You think I could do something like that? Because I didn’t take those pictures, and I didn’t erase them, either. I don’t know how they got there, but I had nothing to do with it.”
“I’m sorry, Scarlet. But they were there, and it was a real shock to see them.”
He stared at her, puzzled, but she thought he believed her.
“We should just take your camera in to Marty Decker. He runs a great camera shop in town. I’m sure he can figure out what’s going on. You know, even if it’s just a camera, I think anything and everything can be hacked these days. I wouldn’t even have a computer
