The Betrayed (Krewe of Hunters)
Read The Betrayed (Krewe of Hunters) Online
Authors: Heather Graham
Sleepy Hollow Isn’t So Sleepy Anymore...
One night, New York FBI agent Aidan Mahoney receives a visitor in a dream—an old friend named Richard Highsmith. The very next day he’s sent to Sleepy Hollow because Richard’s gone missing there.
Maureen—Mo—Deauville now lives in the historic town and works with her dog, Rollo, to search for missing people. She’s actually the one to find Richard…or more precisely his head, stuck on a statue of the legendary Headless Horseman.
Mo and Aidan, a new member of the Krewe of Hunters, the FBI’s unit of paranormal investigators, explore both past and present events to figure out who betrayed Richard, who killed him and now wants to kill
them
, too. As they work together, they discover that they share an unusual trait—the ability to communicate with the dead. They also share an attraction that’s as intense as it is unexpected…if they live long enough to enjoy it!
Praise for the novels of
New York Times
bestselling author Heather Graham
“Murder, intrigue, and some hot-and-heavy magnetism between Quinn and Cafferty make for a fast-paced read. You may never know in advance what harrowing situations Graham will place her characters in, but…rest assured that the end result will be satisfying.”
—
Suspense
magazine on
Let the Dead Sleep
“Graham does an amazing job of bringing real-life elements into her fiction worlds… [The] messages are subtle, expertly woven through a story that focuses on solving mysterious crimes using the Krewe members’ unique talents. Graham also brings the surrounding areas of Nashville alive, with vivid details and lush descriptions—so authentic you can practically see history happening.”
—
RT Book Reviews
on
The Night Is Forever
(Top Pick)
“Bestseller Graham launches the third arc in her paranormal romantic suspense Krewe of Hunters series (
The Unseen
, etc.) with a rousing tale of the intriguing haunted town of Lily, Arizona…. Readers will enjoy Sloan and Jane’s interactions as romantic partners and competent professionals, aided by Lily’s ghosts.”
—
Publishers Weekly
on
The Night Is Watching
“Graham deftly weaves elements of mystery, the paranormal and romance into a tight plot that will keep the reader guessing at the true nature of the killer’s evil.”
—
Publishers Weekly
on
The Unseen
“I’ve long admired Heather Graham’s storytelling ability and this book hit the mark. I couldn’t put
The Unholy
down.”
—
Fresh Fiction
“The very prolific and best-selling Graham has crafted a fine paranormal romance with a strong mystery plot
and a vibrant setting.”
—
Booklist
on
Haunted
“The paranormal elements are integral to the unrelentingly suspenseful plot, the characters are likable, the romance convincing.”
—
Booklist
on
Ghost Walk
Also by Heather Graham
THE HEXED
THE CURSED
WAKING THE DEAD
THE NIGHT IS FOREVER
THE NIGHT IS ALIVE
THE NIGHT IS WATCHING
LET THE DEAD SLEEP
THE UNSEEN
THE UNHOLY
THE UNSPOKEN
THE UNINVITED
AN ANGEL FOR CHRISTMAS
THE EVIL INSIDE
SACRED EVIL
HEART OF EVIL
PHANTOM EVIL
NIGHT OF THE VAMPIRES
THE KEEPERS
GHOST MOON
GHOST NIGHT
GHOST SHADOW
THE KILLING EDGE
NIGHT OF THE WOLVES
HOME IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS
UNHALLOWED GROUND
DUST TO DUST
NIGHTWALKER
DEADLY GIFT
DEADLY HARVEST
DEADLY NIGHT
THE DEATH DEALER
THE LAST NOEL
THE SÉANCE
BLOOD RED
THE DEAD ROOM
KISS OF DARKNESS
THE VISION
THE ISLAND
GHOST WALK
KILLING KELLY
THE PRESENCE
DEAD ON THE DANCE FLOOR
PICTURE ME DEAD
HAUNTED
HURRICANE BAY
A SEASON OF MIRACLES
NIGHT OF THE BLACKBIRD
NEVER SLEEP WITH STRANGERS
EYES OF FIRE
SLOW BURN
NIGHT HEAT
Look for Heather Graham’s next novel
AND THE DEAD PLAY ON
available soon from Harlequin MIRA
HEATHER GRAHAM
The Betrayed
For Washington Irving
I wish I could have known him!
And to the beautiful state of New York.
To Al, Mystery Mike and all those at Bouchercon, 2013.
To Connie Perry and Shayne Pozzessere for a wonderful trip into the shadows and forests of the Hollow and the mind—Irving’s cottage, the church, the cemetery…and all those places where wonder exists and the imagination can fly.
Prologue
“T
hey got me, my old friend. They got me.”
Aidan Mahoney woke with a start.
His room was dark; instinct made him reach for the Glock at his bedside and then remain dead still.
Listening.
He’d heard the words as clearly as if they’d been spoken directly in front of him. And when he’d first opened his eyes, he could have sworn that there’d been a form—the form of a man. A man beseeching him—for help. Tall, nicely dressed in a suit, leaning toward him.
But he’d blinked.
And now...
Now there was no one.
He tensed, searching the darkness, listening carefully. He heard the hum of the heater, the noise of a car in the street below and, distantly, the blaring of a horn.
Nothing else. The usual sounds of New York City at night.
But something teased at the back of his mind. Something he should have realized, something he should have recognized about that whisper. His eyes adjusted to the shadows. No, there was nothing in his room. No one stood by his bed. He glanced to the side, but he knew he’d slept alone the night before. He occasionally brought a woman home, but there hadn’t been anyone regular in his life since his crush on Tina Hastings in high school and his passionate college romance with Kathy Flanders.
The passion had lasted until college ended—and cooled almost overnight when their career choices clashed and Kathy had gone on to study anthropology in Cambodia.
Even then, he’d been the one to keep his distance. Sometimes it was just best to be alone and to fight your own demons.
And right now he was definitely alone.
But he’d heard the voice.
He’d seen
something.
Cautiously, he crawled out of bed. He kept the light off and made a quick but thorough search of his immediate space, checking next to the dresser, quietly opening the closet.
From there, he left his room just as quietly. Nothing in the hallway. He kept moving, wearing only his boxers, inspecting the apartment’s second bedroom—his office—the kitchen, living room and dining area. No sign of anyone. Anywhere. He’d dreamed the words. He must have.
From down below, he heard the angry squeal of a cat; a garbage can was knocked over. A lot of street noise came into the apartment, since he was on the third floor of an old brownstone in the Village. But the voice he’d heard hadn’t come from the street.
He groaned aloud, setting his Glock on the kitchen counter and opening the refrigerator door, letting the cool air wash over him. He was always wary; training in various military and law enforcement branches had caused that. But he wasn’t paranoid. There was no one in his apartment and he was sure of that now.
But, to his mind, the alternative was almost worse.
He’d
known
the voice. But he couldn’t quite place it.
They got me, my old friend. They got me.
Aidan glanced at the clock over the fireplace. The time was creeping toward 5:30 a.m. What the hell? He might as well stay awake, shower, get dressed, then head on in to work.
He put coffee on to brew while he got ready, but checked the locks on his door before he went to shower. By 5:35 he was dressed and pouring a cup of coffee. With his gun in its small holster he went to the door to get his newspaper. He still liked reading the
Times
in its old-fashioned form.
When he picked up the rolled bundle, he saw the headline: Highsmith Missing!
It suddenly seemed that his blood really did run cold—a physical impossibility, of course, but for a moment he felt frozen in place. He felt a distinct chill coursing through his body.
Then his phone rang.
And, of course, he knew that call presaged a hell of a day. Just as he now realized that the voice he’d heard had been that of Richard Highsmith.
“Mahoney,” he answered, aware of how terse he sounded.
From the caller ID he’d seen that it was his new unit chief, Jackson Crow. He liked Crow, all right, and working for him wasn’t going to be a problem. But...
He’d known Richard since they were kids. Once, they’d been great friends. But time went by, people got older. Life and work intruded. Obligations kept old friends from being together, kicking a ball around or playing video games, but that didn’t change the fact that a few hours grabbed for a football game or a quick dinner wasn’t damned good. And yet even those occasions became less and less frequent.
Richard was missing.
This was going to be about Richard.
A phone call from Crow was new for Aidan. He’d been working as an FBI field agent out of the largest office in the country—the New York City office—for the past ten years. He’d worked briefly with Crow on a case that had included the D.C. offices. Then they’d gone in different directions. Now, Crow was heading up a special unit—and that unit was opening new offices in NYC.
Aidan hadn’t asked to transfer to the new unit. He hadn’t
wanted
it. And when he’d received a call from the director of the bureau, he’d known he could refuse the transfer. If he did, however, his career with the agency might well be at stake.
But this call? He was almost certain it would be about Richard. He wanted to work Richard’s case; he desperately wanted to find his old friend. And find him
alive.
He was afraid he wouldn’t.
And he still wasn’t sure about the new coworkers he’d wind up with on the case.
Aidan reassured himself that they’d be fine. He’d been afraid they’d be a bunch of freaks bearing crystal balls. The truth couldn’t have been more different. The new offices in a small Federal building just down the street—closer to St. Paul’s and Trinity—was state-of-the-art. Five seasoned Krewe members had been sent to help with the setup.
They certainly
seemed
normal. They’d read all the books, gone through all the rigors of training. They’d passed the academy classes. Everyone he’d met seemed bright, efficient, competent.
Nice.
He’d liked them all.
But they had a reputation for being called in on the weird cases. And
weird
was an area he’d rather avoid.
The new base for the NYC Krewe unit had only recently come into existence. Before Aidan had seen the paper today—
heard the voice!
—he hadn’t expected to be in the field anytime soon. He’d been told by his old superior that Jackson Crow had been watching him, noting his methods and his work, and had specifically asked that Aidan be brought in when the Krewe’s New York office was formed.
Aidan was still getting to know his new unit, accepting that he was part of it.
“We’ve got some serious trouble,” Crow said.
Yeah,
Aidan thought.
Richard’s dead.
But he didn’t speak.
“The New York office got a call from the sheriff up in Westchester County,” Crow said. “The director called me—since you’re part of the Krewe now. You’re the man he wants. I understand you’re from the area. Plus, he’d like to cover all the bases—the usual aspects of an investigation into a disappearance like this...and, shall we say, the
unusual
ones.” There was a brief silence. “This one could be described as unusual in that Richard Highsmith apparently disappeared into thin air. He was in Tarrytown for a fund-raiser yesterday. He disappeared around dusk. He was there—at the center where he was scheduled to speak—and then he wasn’t. He still hasn’t made an appearance and his staff is worried sick.”
“The locals are on it?”
“They’ve been on it. They did a lockdown at the center for several hours. They questioned everyone there before letting anyone go. His car was in the lot, and there was security all around.” Crow was quiet for a moment. “If he was your average Joe, they wouldn’t even have a Missing Persons report on him yet, but...”
“But it’s Richard,” Aidan said quietly. He probably should have told Crow right then that Richard Highsmith was more than a rising politician to him. The reason he didn’t was that he wanted the assignment.
He chose not to mention that he knew Richard well. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure about his new position with the agency, but he knew one thing. He was
not
going to be pulled off this case, and while he didn’t want to be dishonest, he wasn’t going to tell his new supervisor about his friendship with the missing man—yet.
“Yes. And it’s hitting the news this morning,” Crow said. “Tarrytown’s about an hour away from here—”
“Less,” Aidan told him. At this time of morning? Hell, yeah, he could get there fast.
“Then go. I’ll call your cell with any particulars we have. By this evening, I’ll have a few more agents assigned.”
“Consider me gone.” Aidan hung up, drained his coffee and started for the door.
They got me, my old friend. They got me.
He was going to find Richard Highsmith.
And the saddest thing of all...
Aidan knew he was going to find him dead.
