Telling Tales

Chapter Two

Kellan’s hands moved over smooth, ivory flesh. Silken and sweetly scented, eyes that sparkled green under slanted black brows and a cap of short, black hair. Damned exotic little fairy.

Her mouth tasted like wine under his, addictive and sweet, and her hands moved over his body like butterfly wings, light and feathery. Against his chest, he could feel the hot stab of her nipples, the pounding of her heart.

Rolling her onto her back, Kellan pushed her thighs wide and spread her open, piercing the wet folds with his tongue. She was sweet, spicy…ripe. Ready for him-damn it, he was ready for her, too.

Vicious need pulsed through him and he groaned as she arched up against him with a shriek.

Now …the word circled through his mind. Now…had to have her now.

Moving up her body, he wondered why in the hell he had waited so long-

The buzzing of his pager had the dream falling in tatters around him.

Fuck.

He opened his eyes, his cock throbbing and aching like a bad tooth, Darci’s name lingering on his lips. Damn it, he could still feel the echo of the dream as he reached for his pager. Her scent seemed to cling to him and he had to remind himself that it was just a dream.

The most realistic dream he had ever had, but a dream all the same.

But the message on his pager was like a bucket of ice water thrown in his face and his body froze as he finished reading it.

Swallowing, he reached for the phone and called the office, hoping this was some sick joke.

Twenty minutes later, he was standing in Carrie Forrest’s house, over the bloodied remains of her body. It was no joke.

This was as real as it got, and about as bloody.

He hadn’t seen this much hatred in a long while.

Somebody had a powerful lot of rage built up inside of them, and whoever it was, had let it all loose on Carrie last night.

Beth Morris was downstairs wailing on Peggy Ralley’s shoulder and Kim Samuel was sitting on the couch, sipping coffee and staring into the distance, as though she wasn’t really there.

Carrie had been beaten to death.

The murder weapon was still in the house. Carrie’s cane. The victim’s face was hardly recognizable. The cane had broken by the time the perp was done.

Damn it. He felt pity move through him as he knelt beside her body and studied the pitiful mess that had been made of it.

She had wreaked a lot of hell, on a lot of lives.

But nobody deserved to die like this.

“Ms. Morris, you can’t- Damn it, this is the scene of a crime-”

“Take your hands off of me, unless you’d like to be talking to me and my lawyer in court,” Beth Morris said coldly.

Almost everybody in town had heard that line before. Beth loved to throw it around. Mostly, it was an empty threat, but enough people had actually received papers that most didn’t want to push it. The judges at the small county courthouse had tired of seeing her face and had thrown many cases out, so Beth had taken several of her cases to the next level.

It was still a threat powerful enough to evoke fear in some people’s hearts.

But Deputy David Morelli wasn’t about to let her intrude on a crime scene.

“I don’t care if the Almighty Himself summons me to appear in court. I’m not going to let you intrude on a crime scene,” Morelli snapped, placing himself between Beth and the studio when the other officer let her go. “Now if you don’t take yourself back downstairs, I will. We’ve already asked you several times. Please don’t make us go through this again.”

Beth started to sniffle. “How can you talk to me this way? I’ve lost my best friend.”

“And I’d think you’d want us to do what we can to make sure her killer is caught. Including not damaging possible clues,” Morelli said levelly.

“I just want to speak with the Sheriff,” she said, her voice high-pitched and whining.

From where Kellan crouched, he could almost hear the sigh in Morelli’s voice and he figured he owed the man a drink or ten.

“He just got here. He hasn’t been on the scene for more than five minutes. Give him some time, Ms. Morris. Now go back downstairs and let us work,” he said firmly.

“She did it! I know she did! Everybody loves Carrie but her,” Beth sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “Arrest that bitch. You can’t let her walk the streets while Carrie lies dead in the ground.”

Kellan lifted his head and stared out into the hall as Beth shrieked out, “You put Darci in jail, damn it. She threatened Carrie, just yesterday. Make her pay!”

Kellan left the house some time later, tension settling inside his gut like a leaden fist.

“What’s your next step?” Morelli asked quietly.

Turning, Kellan met the older man’s dark eyes, scowling. “I’m going to go question Darci Law.” And the thought ate at him, like acid in his belly.

Morelli sighed, rubbing his thumb across his lip. “She didn’t do it, Sheriff. You know that. Question her, get it out of the way…and when this is over, you really ought to quit mooning over her and just ask her out.”

Kellan felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Turning away, he thought sourly, Well, damn. Been hiding it real well, haven’t I?

Unable to think of a damn thing to say to that, he just scowled at Morelli and stomped away.

This, he decided, just downright sucked.

Darci rolled onto her back, her hand between her legs, a sigh tripping out of her as she dreamed. Oh, she suspected damn good and well it was a dream, but still…

If his hands felt as good in reality as they felt in the dream-shoot, even half as good-she’d climax before he even touched her breasts.

In the dream, his lips were fixed firmly around her nipple, drawing deeply, as his hands palmed her butt, lifting her up against his cock. His hair had fallen free of that short, stubby tail he kept it confined in and it teased her shoulders, her neck. She locked her hands in it, smiling with delight as it turned out to be every bit as silky as it looked. It was the color of mahogany, deep dark brownish-red, shot through with streaks of pure bright red-women would kill to have hair like his.

Damn, a lot of women just might kill to be where she was, spread out underneath that long, sleekly muscled body, that clever mouth moving over her hungrily, that hair wrapped around her fists.

Kellan kissed his way down her belly, pushing her thighs apart. He rose to his knees, reaching up to untangle her hands from his hair before he stroked his finger down her slit, from her clit on down, opening her thoroughly. He moved past the tender patch of flesh between her vagina and her anus to tease the tight pucker of her ass before he lowered his head and placed a full openmouthed kiss against her wet flesh.

“Damn, you’re sweet,” he murmured, lifting up to blow on her before turning his head to the side and plunging his tongue inside of her.

“Sweet, sweet, sweet…”

Those words were echoing inside her head as she was jerked out of sleep by the persistent knocking on her door.

Darci sat up, her chest heaving, her nipples burning, a throbbing, lingering ache in her pussy…while she played with herself. Her face flushed as she pulled her hand away from her aching cleft and whispered, “Now that was one hell of a wet dream.”

She rolled out of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, washing her hands and then splashing water on her face before she went downstairs, flicking a glance at the clock. Ten o’clock. Damn, what in the hell had Clive put into that drink?

She never slept that late.

But she felt-good.

Very good, actually. Of course, that could be the wet dream she had just had. A wicked smile lifted up the corners of her mouth as she opened the door. But heat suffused her face when the open door revealed Kellan Grant. The object of her wet dream.

Slowly, she slid a hand through her hair. Parking tickets paid…and I don’t think Carrie would be stupid enough to press charges for yesterday.

After all, what can she say? I yelled at her? That I told her to leave me alone?

The dream echoed through her head as she met his eyes and her cheeks heated.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” she said slowly. Trying to shove the dream aside, she nibbled on her lower lip as she prayed to God that Kellan couldn’t tell what thoughts were running through her head.

“Morning, ma’am,” he said, nodding at her. Behind him stood one of his deputies, and the younger man also nodded politely, his eyes moving away from her face.

“I’m afraid I need to ask you to come down to the station, Ms. Law,” Kellan said, his voice tight, a muscle ticcing in his cheek. “I’ve got some questions I need to ask, and I’ll need to take a statement. If you wouldn’t mind getting dressed…”

Darci glanced down at her nightshirt, confused. No, she couldn’t wear the cotton nightie down there. Licking her lips, she looked back up at Kellan and asked, “What do you need to talk to me about? I’m afraid I don’t understand, Sheriff.”

Kellan glanced at the deputy before he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Ms. Law, look, this is a pretty…hmm. Why don’t you let us come inside? Maybe you can run upstairs and get dressed?” he suggested, his eyes flicking to the front of her nightshirt again.

She nodded slowly as her heart started to quiver in her chest.

Something was wrong.

Bad wrong.

She didn’t do it.

Even though he had been pretty certain of it before coming here, the confused look in her eyes only confirmed his gut instincts. She didn’t do it.

Okay, yes, he’d known that, in his gut. But another part of him-the cop part-knew that sometimes people did some very out of character things and he just couldn’t help but…

But she didn’t.

Relief made him slightly lightheaded as he stepped inside. Grady followed behind him and closed the door.

As her pretty little butt disappeared up the stairs, he dragged his eyes away from her and found his deputy grinning at him.

“You should really just ask her out, Sheriff. You’ve been panting over her since before your divorce. Just do it,” Grady said, shaking his head at him.

“Wonderful idea. While I’m asking out a murder suspect, would you like to do anything else damaging to my career? I know, maybe you’d like to plant rumors that I’m selling drugs on the side?” Kellan whispered out of the side of his mouth.

“She’s no murderer,” Grady whispered back, shaking his head. “I dunno who is responsible, but it’s not her.” He clammed up the minute he heard footsteps on the stairs and Kellan jerked back around.

But what he saw on the steps wasn’t much better than what she had been wearing.

All she had done was draw on jeans and tuck the tails of her nightshirt in. That fine white cotton was much too thin to disguise a damn thing. It clung to the full white globes of her breasts, and the dark shadow of her nipples was outlined clearly.

Darci was too damned sharp not to realize something bad wrong was going on. He could see the nerves dancing in her eyes.

And when a woman got nervous, well, it had similar effects sometimes as that of arousal. She was cold, her skin covered with goose bumps and she kept chafing her arms with her hands, licking her lips as her eyes darted from Grady to Kellan, back to Grady, then focused on Kellan.

And her nipples…they had gone stiff and hard, peaking against the soft white cotton of her nightie and all Kellan wanted to do was drop to his knees and take one of them into his mouth, then the other and see if she tasted as sweet as he suspected.

He suppressed a groan as she seated herself in the emerald green papasan chair and folded her hands in her lap, staring at them. “What’s going on, Sheriff?” she asked quietly.

“I need you to tell me where you were last night,” Kellan said, lowering himself to the couch and watching her face closely.

“I was at Clive’s,” she said, lifting a shoulder and staring at them, her peaked brows puckered with confusion. “I usually would have gone out to the park and shot pictures. It was a clear evening, gorgeous…would have been great for some sunset pics, but I didn’t feel like being alone with my thoughts. So I went to Clive’s.”

“So you had some coffee and came home?” Kellan asked, pulling out his notepad. He drew out a pair of glasses with dark gold wire frames and put them on, then just tapped his pen against his notepad, studying her face.

That wasn’t enough to alibi her. He already had a good idea of time of death, just from looking at the body. Rigor hadn’t set in, there wasn’t any smell, and blood had already settled in her body. A little over twelve hours, the way he figured. Carrie had died probably between seven and nine.

“What time did you go to Clive’s?”

“I got there around five,” she said, frowning.

“And after you had your coffee, you left?” he asked, keeping the urge to swear violently behind his teeth. Not good enough. Not even good to keep from arresting her if they found even the slightest bit of circumstantial evidence.

She shook her head. “I was there until he closed. I didn’t feel like being alone.” She moved her eyes away, staring out the window over Kellan’s shoulder. “Been a long week.”

Damn it, she looked like she had been kicked. Like somebody had slapped her. He wanted to go over there and cuddle her, stroke her hair and buss that pretty mouth. And once she was smiling again, he wanted to see how long it would take to make her moan, and make her sigh, and sob with pleasure.

“I heard you’ve had a rough time-also heard some rumors that Carrie was behind that little ordeal,” Kellan said. Bile rose in his throat. He usually loved his job. Enjoyed it. Keeping the peace, seeing justice done when what little crime happened in this quiet town occurred.

But now…self-disgust rose bitterly as he started to set her up and he would have done almost anything if somebody else could have done this.

Anger flared in her jewel-bright eyes and she sneered. “Rumor, my ass. If she’s not the bitch behind it, then I’ll eat cardboard. She started it, I know it as well as I know my own name.”

“She’s caused you trouble in the past, hasn’t she? Accused you of having liaisons, stealing your photographs from online, a number of things,” Kellan said.

“Is that all of it? Hell, I would have thought there was more by now,” Darci snorted. “I’ve no idea what kind of lies she’s told about me. I do know that she mentioned to damn near every woman in town that I really am not a wise person to befriend because I’ll steal away her man the minute she turns her back. And I’ll do everything possible to ruin her life in the process,” she said, flicking her spiky bangs back from her face with a silver-ringed finger. “Something’s not right in Carrie’s head. If she can’t have you under her control, she hates you.”

“I take it that you wouldn’t comply with what she wanted,” Kellan said.

Darci shrugged. “I don’t kiss ass very well. And I don’t tolerate patronization. So no, we never really got along well, if that is what you want to know. I don’t like Carrie, I never have. But she’s really been jerking my chain a lot lately,” she said, shaking her head. She looked back at Kellan and cocked a brow. “You still haven’t explained why you are here, what exactly it is that has you wanting to take me in for a statement.”

Kellan slid Grady a look. “You got home around nine or so?” he asked, deliberately fudging the time. Clive’s didn’t close until eleven in the summer. Tourists seemed to think the town should keep big-city hours. So, they kept big-city hours. At least the restaurants and diners did.

“No. I told you,” she said patiently, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. “I stayed at Clive’s until he chased me out-until closing. Later than that actually.” She frowned. “Damn it, my car is there. Shoot. Anyway. I just kept drinking cappuccinos-shoot, I really have to go pee.”

Kellan lifted a brow at her and smothered a grin. Damn it, that was one of the things he liked about her. She had to be one of the most open women he had ever met in his life.

She rambled on, unaware of his amusement. “I had been sitting in the window seat, that thing is soooo comfortable. I was reading and then just daydreaming for a while. He let me keep on zoning while he closed up and he told me…”

Then she locked her lips together and her face went red.

Kellan sighed and lifted his eyes patiently to the sky. “Look, Darci. I’m perfectly aware that Clive has a nice little recipe that he hands out every now and then. I don’t know what all is in it, and I’ve never been given one, so while I’m offended that you got one, after only living here for five years, and I was born here, and I’ve never gotten one, you aren’t going to get him in trouble.”

She arched a brow and whistled I Wish I was in Dixie.

“He didn’t accept money for it, did he?” Kellan asked, suppressing the urge to laugh.

She stopped whistling and laughed. “Damn it, and here I was thinking I was special.”

“You are. He only gives that out to a handful of people,” Kellan said sourly. “So you got one of Clive’s miracle drinks and he drove you home…what time you think that was?”

She shrugged. “He closes around eleven and it was all clean and tidy before he even interrupted my nice little daydreams. Probably quarter after, maybe eleven-twenty. I guess I got home a little before midnight,” she said, nodding toward the sparkling river view just beyond the window over Kellan’s shoulder. “We talked on the porch, while he made sure I drank my ‘goodnight cocktail’ as he called it.” She slid Kellan a look and said, “He wouldn’t let me drink it until we got here, and I can understand why. I had no sooner gone upstairs and gotten into my jammies than I started feeling sleepy. Don’t know what he puts in that thing, but it packs a punch. And I haven’t slept that soundly in years.”

Kellan felt the knot in his belly loosening. “So basically, you were at Clive’s all evening. I’m sure other people besides him saw you?” he asked, leaning back and staring at her face. Her brows arched higher as she tilted her head, studying him.

“Yes, I’m sure plenty of people did.” Drawing her knees up to her chest, she rested that elfin chin on them and pinned him with a direct stare, one that was totally at odds with her whimsical looks, and that lazy, almost childish pose. “So, tell me, exactly what is it you’re worried I did last night?”

“Now you need to be advised that I haven’t read you your rights. You’re not under arrest, and I don’t suspect you of any crimes. However, some people probably do.”

Across the room, Grady closed his eyes and just shook his head.

Darci nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said softly. “What crime exactly?”

Setting his notebook aside, he leaned forward and said, “Sometime last evening, somebody Carrie Forrest knew was inside her house. They had coffee and she got out cookies, which were left untouched in the sitting room.” Kellan stood up and crossed the room, kneeling in front of Darci, not touching her, just watching her face as he finished. “They went upstairs to her studio and then this person killed Carrie.”

Darci’s mouth dropped open.

She blinked.

Her legs slid down and she shifted on the chair, reaching up to rub a fist across her chest. “What?” she repeated in a soft, weak voice. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Carrie is dead,” Kellan said levelly. “She was murdered.”

Darci fell back against the chair as though all the energy had drained out of her. The light in her vibrant green eyes dimmed and she swallowed. “You think I could have done it,” she murmured, still staring at him.

Yes, one of the most open women he had ever met. She didn’t hide a damn thing. Kellan replied as honestly as he could. “I don’t think you could have done it. But you are a suspect. Carrie liked to snipe at you, Darci. She did her damnedest to cause you trouble, and you never backed down, especially this last time,” he said softly.

In the corner, Grady lifted his eyes to the sky, shaking his head.

“I have reason to dislike her,” Darci said coldly. “I don’t have reason to hate her. I don’t have reason to want her dead.”

“Some people might think, after what has happened between you, that you would have every reason to want just that,” Kellan said. “She was out to ruin you. Ruin your career.”

“Get serious,” Darci said, rolling her eyes. “Hatred requires too much energy. And frankly, she’s not worth it.” Then she paled. “Oh, man. That sounds terrible. She’s dead, and…oh, man.” She tugged a gold chain from underneath her shirt and worried the charm on it with her fingers, mumbling under her breath. “I didn’t like the lady, but my mother didn’t raise me to speak ill of the dead. That was mean of me.”

Kellan closed his eyes and shook his head. This woman was…unusual. To say the least.

“Ah, I think under the circumstances, your mother would understand,” Kellan said softly.

She flashed him a wry grin, her eyes sparkling brightly through the tears. “Ummm, you don’t know Mama,” she said, her voice thick. “Speaking ill of the dead is just something you don’t do. Even of Hitler.”

Kellan waited until she took a shuddering breath and her eyes met his once more. “I need you to come down to the station. I need a statement,” he said softly.

Her lashes lowered and she sighed, her slim, sleekly muscled shoulders rising and falling beneath the lacy straps of her nightie. “My life seems to be going to hell in a handbasket,” she murmured.

Kellan couldn’t help it. “Well, it’s a vast improvement over the path Carrie’s life took last night,” he said.

Her eyes widened. Then she slowly agreed, “Well, you do have a point. Although Carrie chose her path a very long time ago.”

Well, he might believe she wasn’t a killer, Darci thought sourly as she ran her wet fingers through her short black hair. She made a face in the mirror. “It’s still not keeping me from having to go down and make a statement,” she muttered.

Part of her felt guilty.

Carrie was dead. Apparently pretty brutally. Kellan wouldn’t say anything, but she was really good at picking up vibes. And she sensed a terrible rage within him. A terrible rage.

Maybe she was wrong, she thought as she tugged her nightshirt off and searched for a bra in the dresser drawer. Spying one, she tugged it out and pulled it on, then jerked open her closet and grabbed the first shirt she could find-a waist-length, black sleeveless vest-styled shirt. She stuck her arms in it, buttoned it up and stuck her feet into a black pair of thongs.

Maybe any unjustified death angered him. It would her. Hearing about anybody dying before their time made her mad.

But…still. She couldn’t help but think something about this was off. Or maybe she was just letting her emotions toward Carrie affect her. Hell, she thought as she grabbed her purse and keys from the table beside her door and jogged down the steps, she’d been letting her animosity toward Carrie skew her thinking for months.

Why should this change anything?

Except she had decided earlier that she was going to get over this. She wasn’t going to let Carrie and Co. matter anymore.

Meeting Kellan at the bottom of the stairs, she looked into his eyes-soft, warm, hazel eyes. He had taken his glasses off. He had looked awfully good with them on, like a sexy scholar.

Of course, he looked good without them too.

He just looked damned good.

She just loved his eyes. She’d love to photograph his eyes, those wide-spaced, heavily lashed, warm, hazel eyes.

Was it her imagination or did they look just a little warmer as he stared at her?

“Let’s get this over with,” she said quietly.

Her attorney of record wasn’t exactly equipped to defend her against a murder charge, but Darci wasn’t a fool. As she rode in the back of Kellan’s cruiser, she pulled out her cell phone and called Brittany Daugherty.

“Darci, I was just getting ready to come over. I don’t know if you’ve heard anything but-”

“Britt, I’m in the Sheriff’s car, riding over to the station,” she interrupted. “I think it would be a good idea for you to meet me down there.”

“Oh, shit. I was afraid this would happen. Don’t say anything, don’t tell them anything-”

“I already have told them some stuff, but it was just where I was last night. I was at Clive’s all evening. But they want to take my statement, ask some official questions,” she said. As she spoke, she glanced up and met Kellan’s glance in the rearview mirror.

He was studying her with an arched brow.

She flushed and licked her lips and dragged her gaze away, but she could still feel him staring at her.

“I’d like you to meet me there, Britt,” she said, lowering her voice. “The whole damn town knows that Carrie and I had some bad history between us. And half of the town is still convinced she was a saint…”

“The Wicked Witch is more like it,” Britt interjected. “But we can’t let anybody hear you talking like that. Don’t say anything else. And I mean anything. Not until I get there. So zip it.”

Once Brittany hung up the phone, Darci sighed and flipped hers closed, tossing it into her purse.

“So, what does your lawyer have to say?”

Arching a brow at him, she drew an imaginary zipper across the seam of her lips and turned the lock, before leaning her head back. Damn it. She needed to think.

Because if she thought long and hard enough, surely she’d come up with the reasons she had moved to Vevey to begin with.

At least she’d taken that white nightshirt off. If he had been forced to question her while she had been wearing that nightie, the hint of her nipples teasing him, he was certain he would have gone mad.

He was about to lose it anyway.

Damn it, this was too much.

Kellan had avoided her like the plague for the past few years. And just for this very reason. The scent of her skin drove him insane. The thought of being close enough to touch all of that smooth white skin, yet resisting, was enough to make him want to drag her by the hair to the closest private place and just throw her to the ground and mount her. To see the sparkle of her emerald green eyes and hear the low husky caress of her voice as she spoke-

Damn it. He was going to drive himself crazy.

And they hadn’t even gotten started yet.

This was the longest time he had ever spent in her company. And the closest. The scent of her skin was permanently embedded on his memory and he was certain that her mouth would be every bit as sweet and soft as it looked.

Fuck.

He had kept his attraction to her from becoming an obsession just by keeping his distance.

And now that distance had been totally smashed. How could he stay away from her now?

But how could he do anything with a woman who was involved in a murder investigation?

Hell, she hadn’t done it. He knew that as well as he knew his own name. But she was involved in it. Somehow. Something Carrie had done had pissed somebody off so much that the person had snapped.

And lately, all her tricks and bullshit seemed to revolve around Darci, Becka, or the gallery.

As Britt sailed in, her bouncy blonde curls secured in a ponytail, she grinned sunnily at Kellan and asked easily, “How’s Michaela doing?”

He smiled and said, “Fat and pregnant, last I heard.”

“Shouldn’t be calling your sister fat. She’s just…plump. A baby can do that, I’ve heard,” Britt said as she settled onto the hard chair, flipping open her briefcase and drawing out a yellow legal pad and a pen. After perching a pair of wire-rimmed glasses on her nose, she flicked Kellan a glance and said, “I’ll need a moment to speak with my client, if you don’t mind.”

Kellan sighed and said, “She’s not under arrest. I just need to take a statement, ask her some questions.”

Brittany smiled serenely. “That is all well and good. But I really should know a few things before you ask her those questions.” She arched her brows and waited.

Kellan scowled and tossed his pen down on the table. He pushed his glasses up on top of his head and left the room, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him.

He made a beeline for his office and went straight for the coffeepot, pushing the button, knowing JT already had it ready to brew. She had seen him come in and had huffed her way in here, mumbling about overtime and how a body just couldn’t get any sleep.

And she had the pot waiting for him, so he could have coffee as soon as he wanted it.

Loveable old biddy.

As soon as there was enough for a cup, he grabbed the pot and poured one, wincing as footsteps came down the hall, hoping it wasn’t JT. If she knew he was letting coffee splatter on the warming unit again, she’d have his hide. But the footsteps went on past, and he sipped at the hot brew and sighed with pleasure while coffee hissed and bubbled on the heating unit.

Oh, yeah, JT would skin him.

But as long as he cleaned up his mess, they’d be fine.

Darci toyed with the cross at her neck as she repeated, almost word for word, how she had spent her night. “Okay,” Britt finally said, smiling with satisfaction. “Clive is almost gold around here. If he says you were at his place, then nobody will doubt him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Darci said sarcastically.

Britt laughed. “Honey, you know by now how things are here. They like you, a lot. But you’re still the new kid. Hell, you’ll be new after you’ve lived here fifty years. But Clive, well, he wasn’t born here, but his daddy was, and he’s been here since he was a kid and around here, he is a fixture. And he likes you. All in all, that is a damned good thing. You’ve got plenty of witnesses and an unimpeachable alibi.” Patting Darci on the knee, she said, “Small-town life, babe. Don’t you love it?”

Darci groused through the rest of the questions, twisting her rings ‘round and ‘round on her fingers, replaying yesterday through her mind. You have got to be the saddest most pathetic creature…

It was the truth. She knew that.

But all she could see was the bright flash of pain that had appeared in Carrie’s eyes for the quickest of seconds. The moment of truth.

It was truth.

For a second, Carrie had been forced to stop hiding from it. And she had hated Darci for it.

“Darci.”

Jerking her head up, Darci stared into Brittany ’s eyes, her own dark and bruised-looking. “She was a horrid, pathetic woman who was getting old before her time,” she whispered to her friend. “But she didn’t deserve to die before her time.”

Britt leaned forward, taking Darci’s hand and wrapping her hands around Darci’s cold ones. “Listen, honey, and listen good. Malcontent breeds malcontent. Though most people in this town believed Carrie’s lies, and few knew the truth, she didn’t deserve what happened to her. But unfortunately, the way Carrie liked to live-telling tales, breeding ill will-sooner or later, she was going to set off the wrong person,” Brittany whispered. “What goes around does indeed come around. Sometimes, in spades.”

Inexplicably, Darci’s eyes filled with tears. Britt leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her, rocking her slightly. “Shhh…shhh, don’t cry, Darci. She’s cost you too many tears already.”

Darci forced a deep, somewhat shaky breath into her lungs and then she nodded, pulling back, looking up, letting the tears dry before they fell. “No crying. None. Can we get this over with? I really want to get out of here,” she said fervently.

Darci was walking down the two steps that led to the sidewalk when she heard Britt’s indrawn breath. “Don’t say a damn thing to her,” Brittany warned under her breath. “I mean it. Don’t get drawn into something with her. Your alibi checks out, you couldn’t have done it, we know you couldn’t have done it. Don’t let her-”

“They are letting you walk out of here?” Beth demanded. Her eyes were bright with anger, her mouth twisted and snarling.

“Beth.” The deep voice came from over their heads and froze Darci in her tracks before she could say anything.

And she sure as hell was going to say something, even though Britt’s fingers were digging into her arm, about to cut her circulation off.

“Why are you letting her walk out of here? She killed Carrie! Everybody knows it!” Beth spat. A tiny bit of spittle clung to the corner of her mouth and disgust curled in Darci’s belly.

“She couldn’t have killed Carrie. Not unless she’s able to be in two places at once. She’s got an alibi for a solid six hours,” Kellan said as he came down the two steps, not looking at Darci. “I’m heading out to speak with said alibi and take his statement. But it’s pretty much ironclad.”

“She probably fucked him to get it,” Beth snarled, reaching up and shoving at Darci’s chest. “Hell, she’s fucking everybody in town.”

Darci batted her hand away and said, “Don’t touch me again, Beth. I’ll make allowances because you’re angry and upset. And I’ll make allowances because I know you’re probably hurting over Carrie, but do it again, and I’ll get mad.”

She heard a muffled snort from Kellan and Britt snickered. Beth’s eyes flamed. “Are you threatening me?” Beth gasped.

“You’d like that,” Darci said. “Something else for you to give your lawyer to work on. I’m not saying another damn word to you.”

Yep, he was trying not to laugh, she was sure of it, as the odd smothered cough came from Kellan again. Beth lifted her chin, trying to look arrogantly proud. “You think you’re going to get away with it,” she rasped. “It doesn’t matter what alibi you’ve come up with. You killed Carrie. You’re the only one who could have. You’re the only one who hates her.”

Darci lifted her chin. “Bullshit. Not everybody in this town is blind. She had some people fooled, but there are other people who know exactly what she was.”

Then she moved around Beth and headed on down the sidewalk.

“How can you let her walk?” Beth demanded.

“Because she’s got a damned good alibi. If it turns out she lied, I’ll pick her up. But that’s unlikely,” Kellan said, moving around her. “Now let me do my job, Ms. Morris.”

“You’ve been fooled by that pretty face,” Beth snarled. “I’m not surprised. She’s got everybody wrapped around her finger.”

Kellan compressed his lips together and continued on down the sidewalk, following in Darci’s footsteps.

“See? See? You go following after her, right in front of me,” Beth shrieked.

“No. I’m going to talk to Clive. He was her alibi. She spent the evening at his café,” Kellan said over his shoulder. “And I thought I’d follow this up with checking with damn near everybody in town, since three-fourths of the population seem to enjoy stopping by his shop for ice cream or coffee on a Friday night.”

Kellan didn’t see when Beth whispered, “Clive?” or the way her lips tightened afterward.

“Damn it,” Beth mumbled.

“It had to have been her. It had to. Doesn’t make any sense. Nobody else would have wanted to do it,” she swore as she paced around and around her studio.

Her gray hair was messy, oily from many restless passes of her hands. She had never allowed herself to look so unpresentable, but she hadn’t been prepared for the sudden knock on the door, and she had been too shaken by what had happened at the police station to go upstairs and try to make herself look as she felt she should.

Her house, damn it. Her house. If she wanted to look a mess in her own home, that was her right.

“It just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t rightly know why Clive would lie for her, but Darci is the only one who hated Carrie,” Beth said, turning and staring at her visitor, her eyes bright and burning with passion.

“Well, I don’t exactly see that as being true.”

Beth’s eyes widened as she saw the heavy glazed urn come crashing down, but she couldn’t move in time.

“I guess I should thank him one more time,” Darci said quietly, casting a look across the street at Clive’s.

“Not now. The Sheriff is about fifteen feet behind us and he needs to get his statement from Clive. Let’s let him get it. We can go across the street to the Ice Cream Shoppe. I want a cone-a double, I think-chocolate, with sprinkles. Then I want you to tell me about what happened yesterday when you went to see Carrie,” Britt said, hooking her arm through Darci’s and leading her across the narrow street.

So, over cold, creamy vanilla-chocolate for Britt-Darci told her. “She pushed me. Too far. But I wouldn’t have done this,” Darci murmured, her eyes taking on a far-off look. “I might have decked her. But this…” she sighed and shook her head. Then she took a thoughtful lick of her ice cream. “Beth seemed pretty convinced.”

“Beth is a woman who is so full of hatred, it’s easy for her to think that everybody around her hates as much as she does,” Britt said with a shrug.

The bell chimed over the door and a woman with a group of kids came in. Two of them darted toward Darci and she smiled at them, stroking her hand over a towheaded boy, tugging on a red braid. Their mom came up, smiling hesitantly. “Hey, Darci. I heard about Ms. Forrest, glad to see you…well, you know.”

Darci arched a brow. “Do I? Do I want to?”

The mom-what was her name…Janna, Janna Harton-leaned over and murmured quietly, “Beth Morris was going around telling everybody you did it. She hadn’t even made it home before she was making calls and telling everybody.”

Britt’s eyes flared. “That’s slander.”

Darci’s lips flattened out and she glanced at the kids. Shaking her head minutely, she told them with her eyes, not now. Then she brightly said, “I had the best night last night. Spent it over at Clive’s. Went over there around five or so, and did nothing but eat biscotti and drink mochas and cappuccinos until he chased me out when he closed.”

Janna’s brows rose and she nodded in understanding. “He’s got the best chocolate mochas,” she murmured.

Her six-year-old twins, Macy and Alan, poked out their lips accordingly. “We can’t have them,” they wailed in unison.

Macy said, “Mama says we’re hyper enough.”

“We have to drink steamers,” Alan chimed in, his eyes big and pitiful.

“If I remember correctly, hyper doesn’t cover it. Maniacal, overactive, bouncing bundles of supercharged energy just might work,” Darci said, smiling widely. “I can see why Mama said no mochas.”

Macy rested her chin on the table and said, “Mama promised me ice cream, too.”

Alan grinned. “Yours looks really good. Can I try a taste while Mama gets mine?”

Darci took another lick. “Hmmm. It is really good,” she said. Then she winked at Alan. “Nope. No sharing.”

Kellan had Clive’s statement, as well as three other customers who had stopped in today for a cup of coffee. They had also been in the mood for some caffeine last night, and recalled seeing that pretty art teacher, as one had called her, perched in the window, just reading away.

“She’s a talented thing-taking pictures and teaching kids,” Clive had said. “I can’t help myself. I keep buyin’ stuff from her, even when I tell myself I’ve bought enough.”

Clive had a number of framed photographs decorating his café, most of which Kellan had recognized as Darci’s work the moment they had appeared.

He was halfway back to the station when he stopped, blew out a breath and scowled.

If he went over there, it just might save him from having to deal with her later. Head it off at the pass, so to speak.

But damn it.

He really didn’t feel up to handling Beth yet.

He turned and headed down Court Street, going left onto Main, then right onto Primrose. Beth’s house was a work of art, and she took great pride in that. She preened every time somebody asked to list it on the Christmas Home Tours, but she never let a soul she didn’t know inside. And there were very few of those.

He knocked on the door, his eyes studying the woodwork and the molding that was probably over a century old.

While he waited, he studied the woodwork on the door, slapping his hand against his thigh. A minute passed and he knocked again, but still no answer.

He scowled, and glanced at the driveway. That damned pink car was in the driveway, so he knew she was home. Unlike more than half of the population living within the city limits, if Beth was going somewhere, even if it was two doors down, she drove. High gas prices be damned.

If it was in the driveway, she was home.

He turned the knob, and when it opened under his hand, a dread suspicion grew in his gut. He pulled the sidearm out, telling himself he was going to feel awfully stupid when he scared Beth Morris in the shower.

Stupid and scarred for life.

He was turning the corner into her kitchen when he smelled it. Rich, coppery death.

Yeah, scarred for life.

Every death left a scar. But violent death was worse.

And two within two days…in his town.

Something very wrong was going on.

Very wrong.

Beth lay on the floor, her head crushed in. The weapon was most likely the heavy glazed urn that was lying on the thick, pile carpet under his feet. Kneeling, he touched his fingers to her throat.

Her body was just now starting to cool.

Her murderer had gotten away no more than an hour ago.

“What in the holy hell is going on?” he murmured.

Then he stood and reached for the radio at his belt.