Dark Carousel (Dark #30) - Christine Feehan Page 0,29

to come if you wish to speak to them tonight. I know a detective and I trust him. He would come immediately if I called.” He stepped back to allow them to precede him.

“I should tell you those other three men may have followed us here, and they’re just as dangerous as Fridrick. They’ve killed, too. I saw them drive a stake through the heart of a man and he was alive.” Charlotte felt compelled to confess. “You have to know that if you allow us to stay here, those men might go after you. I don’t know what they want or why they followed us from Paris, but I know they did.”

Tariq’s face was devoid of all expression. Lines were etched deep. He looked rugged and tough, but still as sophisticated as ever. Charlotte had to wonder how that was even possible. God, but he was gorgeous.

“Tell me about them.”

“One is named Daniel Forester. When you called that young boy Danny, it reminded me. Mostly because Daniel made a big production about his name and how he didn’t want anyone calling him Danny. His friends tweaked him a bit about that. He had two friends, Vince Tidwell and Bruce Van Hues, with him. I saw them as well at the murder scene.”

“Where was this?”

She couldn’t tell by his stony features, his cool eyes or his matter-of-fact voice if he even believed her. She wouldn’t have believed anyone telling her such a thing without proof, especially after what she’d told him about Fridrick killing so many people. Thankfully, he knew Fridrick and had “hunted” him. What did that mean? She should have asked when she’d had the chance. It was such a strange word to use, especially for the owner of a nightclub.

She remained silent as they made their way along the stone walkway to the steps leading to the wraparound porch. There was no explaining that she “saw” Daniel Forester kill another human being by driving a stake through his heart while she held a cocktail glass in her hand. Tariq and the police would think she was the crazy one.

“I don’t know where the murder took place, but it wasn’t the only one.” That made it worse. If Fridrick was a serial killer, then she was telling Tariq that there were two separate serial killers. She almost didn’t believe herself.

“You do not know where the murder took place, but you know there was one. I take it you weren’t there when it actually happened. Did someone tell you about it?”

“Of course not,” Genevieve snapped, answering for her. Defending her. Getting her into even more trouble. “Sometimes Charlie ‘sees’ things. It’s a gift. That’s one of the reasons we went in for psychic testing. It may have been on a whim, but both of us have a couple of very real gifts.” Now she just sounded defiant. She glared at Tariq, daring him to dispute the possibility.

“So you do not have anything concrete to tell the police about these three men.”

Tariq sounded as if he was talking to himself, not them. He didn’t object or scoff at anything they said, and that was a relief to Charlotte. She hadn’t realized until that moment that she really didn’t want Tariq Asenguard to think she was crazy. He seemed to be taking them seriously. He’d admitted to having a gift or two of his own, so maybe that contributed to his believing them.

“No, not really. Not even with Fridrick. He admitted killing in Paris and again, here, with Charlie’s brother,” Genevieve answered, “but there’s no proof. The best we can do is maybe point the cops in the right direction.” She yawned and quickly tried to cover it. “I’m sorry. This is all very exhausting.”

“Let me show you to a room. Enter of your own free will.” Tariq held the door open for them courteously, using his old-world charm to let them pass first.

Charlotte glanced at him sharply, hesitating as Genevieve walked right in, even reaching for her as if to stop her. Genevieve was far too fast, moving quickly into the entryway and peering around her. Charlotte stood just outside the door, feeling the pull, the longing to go inside. A sanctuary of sorts, and somewhere, on this property, was her dream job of restoring very, very old wooden carousel horses. She’d seen the pictures, and she had longed to go with Ricard Beaudet to help restore them. She yearned to get her hands on them, to feel the life