Telling Tales

Chapter Three

Well, at least this victim didn’t have such a good reason for Darci to want her dead. While Darci didn’t like Beth, Beth hadn’t made it her life’s mission to make Darci’s life hell.

Kellan worked through the interview gently, aware that Darci was more than a little shell-shocked.

Britt said quietly, “You know she didn’t do it, Kellan,” after Darci just sighed when Kellan went through the round of questions one more time. She rubbed soothing circles on Darci’s back, feeling the tension mounting as Darci breathed in and out in harsh, shaking motions. “Her time is alibied, most of it with you.”

Kellan gave Brittany a narrow look. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had a murderer in his town, and he had to find the bastard.

But yeah, he knew she didn’t do it.

Didn’t change what he had to do, though. He sighed as he studied the river outside Darci’s window. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to hang around tonight,” he said to Brittany.

He was planning on driving by a few times himself.

Britt arched a brow and said, “Already taken care of, my friend. Why else would I be here this late?”

Darci mumbled from the circle of her arms, “Would you two stop talking as though I’m not here? And I don’t need a babysitter.”

The words sounded loud in the silence of the brightly lit kitchen. What was it about the midnight hour? When words were spoken at such a late time, it just made everything seem so much more vivid, so much louder.

By the time he had finished at the crime scene, it had been after eleven. After taking care of notifying the family and dealing with the paperwork, he had started home.

But then he’d turned, driving past Darci’s house and he had seen lights blazing, and Britt’s car. So he had stopped.

Maybe it had been more to unravel this knot of worry in his gut, though. Not police business. Technically, he should have done this interview at the station, not in her house. She had given him permission to do it, as well as record it-although he suspected she really wasn’t too connected right now. She was in shock, plain and simple. The pupils of her eyes were dilated and she kept rocking back and forth, holding herself.

He had been scared, coming here, worried he might find something he wasn’t ready to handle. He knew, deep in his gut, that these killings had something to do with Darci.

Somehow.

Once Darci had opened the door, and he had seen her weary, shell-shocked face, he had felt…better.

Still battered, still enraged, but better.

“Do you have any idea who would have done this?” he finally asked, pulling his glasses off and tucking them inside his jacket.

Darci looked up at him, resting her cheek on her arm. “I don’t understand hatred, Sheriff. You’re probably asking the wrong person. Whoever did this had a lot of hatred. I think we kind of discussed that about Carrie. This takes more hatred than I’d give anybody.” She lifted a shoulder in a weak shrug. “I’m lazy. I don’t want to give anybody that kind of energy. I get angry fast, I’ve got a short fuse, but it burns itself out pretty quickly. Just don’t like to waste my time with it for too long. I just don’t understand hatred. It’s too…violent. Too dark.”

“You don’t strike me as being somebody who’d be afraid of violence,” Kellan said, quirking a brow as he lifted a cup and sipped at his steaming coffee. He was remembering how she’d batted Beth’s hand away, that angry threat in her eyes, in her voice.

“Just because I’ll use force to defend myself doesn’t mean I like violence,” Darci said, resting her chin on her hands, staring straight ahead. “And understanding hatred and not being afraid of violence are too different things.”

“Point taken,” he said, inclining his head. “So you’ve never hated anybody? An old boyfriend? Ex-husband? The cheerleader in school who stole everybody’s guy?”

A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “No. I don’t think I’ve ever expended the energy to hate. I might hold grudges, and I hold them well. But old boyfriends weren’t worth the time, otherwise, they’d not be old boyfriends. They’d still be in the present. And there are no ex-husbands. As to the cheerleaders, well, I was one, but I didn’t need to steal boyfriends.”

He grinned. “I bet they probably flocked to your door,” he said, a grin cocking up the corners of his mouth.

She shook her head. “No. I was the tomboy cheerleader. Boys weren’t worth my time back then,” she said. “So there was no reason to hate the cheerleaders who did steal the boys.”

“Okay. So you don’t have a clue who might have done this,” Kellan said, blowing out a sigh. “Maybe there’s a lady who believes some of the rumors that she’s heard about you. Thinks you might have been sleeping with a man she’s involved with.”

“So she kills two women just to try to get me in trouble? It would make more sense if she just came after me.”

“Murderers don’t always understand logic,” Kellan said, shrugging. “I’m just trying to understand why I have two women dead-and one of them is somebody who has a history of causing you a lot of grief.”

Darci shot Britt a look. Britt shrugged, her lips pursed.

Spreading her hands wide, Darci said, “I just don’t know… I just don’t know,” she repeated, closing her eyes and burying her face in her hands.

She was so tired.

Achingly tired.

But she couldn’t sleep.

Rolling onto her side, she stared through the floor to ceiling windows just inches away from her bed. The river was no more than a hundred yards away-usually watching it roll by made her feel a little more peaceful than she felt now.

There was no peace inside her tonight.

What was going on?

Darci closed her burning eyes.

There were no answers in the river. No answers inside her throbbing head either.

Two women dead.

And her last words spoken to both of them had been in anger.

It was with a heavy heart that she finally fell asleep, hours later.

Restlessness plagued the small town of Vevey, Indiana over the following weeks.

Carrie was laid to rest, and then Beth, two days later. Carrie’s house was sitting empty, but already people from the State Registry were in town making noises about trying to get Beth’s house.

Darci couldn’t quite believe it. The lady hadn’t even been resting a week when the first call came, from what she could tell.

Now they had people in town, all but ambushing anybody who so much as walked by. But Kellan had finally put a stop to it when he strode up to the small group of people who had practically camped in front of it. Britt had gone into great detail about it, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Well, sir, you see, we’re from the Historical Society and this house is of great interest to us-”

Kellan had cut off the pompous, florid-faced geek of a man who’d spoken with a thick Southern drawl. Darci had dealt with that man when he had come into the gallery and she had wondered if maybe some people took historical reenactments just a little too much to heart.

From what Britt had repeated, Kellan had interrupted him by saying, “It’s of more importance to me. A lady was murdered there and until I’ve decided I’m done with it, nobody can do a thing with it anyway. Now stop badgering everybody who lives here before I get annoyed. Do any of you have homes? Jobs? You’ve been here nearly two weeks, almost around the clock and the house isn’t even for sale.”

“Now see here-”

Kellan had lifted a straight auburn brow, and Britt’s imitation of him had Darci giggling. Britt said, “The guy shut the hell up. They cleared off the street although they passed out their cards and some of them offered money to the neighbors to contact them if so much as a For Sale sign went up.”

Darci scowled. “Hell, I’m tempted to buy the house to keep those idiots from getting it,” she said. “He came into the gallery. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bigger idiot in my life.”

“Well, I have,” Britt murmured, her eyes rolling. “He’s on his way in here.” She ducked behind the counter and slid into the back room as the door opened. Bryce Bishop came in, his dark eyes roaming over Darci’s face as he handed over a handful of mail.

“This came to Dark Destinies instead of here,” Bryce said, dumping the pile on the counter, missing Darci’s outstretched hand like he hadn’t even seen it. “You all getting back in the swing of things?”

Darci lifted a brow. “We never got out.” Raising her voice, she called out, “Becka!”

Bryce looked toward the beaded curtain that hung over the door to the private part of the gallery, a small smirk on his mouth. “Oh, yeah. Guess y’all didn’t see much point taking time off to mourn some old friends.”

Darci coolly said, “If they had been friends, that would have been different. Lives violently lost will always be mourned. But prostrating myself on the sidewalk doesn’t change anything.”

One of the more vocal ladies who had art displayed at Dark Destinies had done just that-dropped to the ground wailing, tears running down her face as she screamed and lamented as Carrie’s casket was carried out. Her miniskirt had revealed her lace thong to everybody around.

And she’d repeated the performance the next day.

Bryce snickered. “No. That’s true. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing you flash some skin,” he said, his eyes dropping and lingering on her neckline.

Becka came through the curtain, followed by Brittney, and when she saw Bryce, her mouth twisted down in a frown. Ignoring him, she looked at Darci, impatience in her eyes. “What?”

Darci reached for the pile of mail and held it out to Becka. “You really do need to make that call to the post office. Destinies received some of our mail again.”

Becka rolled her eyes and said, “All right…all right. I’ll go call them now.” Without even speaking to Bryce, she turned around and moved back through the curtain.

“Well, isn’t she in a good mood,” Bryce smirked.

Flashing him a brittle smile, Darci said, “Hmm. Thanks for the mail. You can go now.” Dismissing him, she looked back at Brittney and said, “So has there been anything new?”

Britt made a noncommittal response, not wanting to talk in front of Bryce, Darci guessed.

The silence stretched out for a moment while Bryce’s eyes lingered on her. Then he murmured, “Be seeing you around, sweet thing.”

As the door closed behind him, she whispered, “I certainly hope not.”

“That guy is such a jerk,” Britt muttered as she came around the corner. “How many times has that place gotten your mail?”

“Three that I know.” Lifting her shoulder in a shrug, she said, “Probably nothing to it.”

“Complained?”

“Becka has to,” Darci said. “I tried. They took the information down, but since I’m not the owner, they aren’t going to take me too seriously. Becka needs to talk to them, and I’ve reminded her. A number of times. Today was probably the tenth. Dunno if she’s listening to me.”

“Hmmm…” Britt said, that noncommittal sound that could say everything and nothing. Then she waggled her eyebrows at Darci, her voice teasing as she said, “Soooo…are you aware of the fact that the Sheriff can’t keep his eyes off of you?”

Darci’s hands stilled and she froze. Studying Britt through the veil of her lashes, she asked, “What?”

Britt smiled a cool little cat’s smile. “He’s got the hots for you. I can tell. And you watch him like he’s a hot fudge sundae and you’ve been on a six-month carb diet.” Fluttering her lashes, Britt said, “Too bad you’re a suspect.”

“You bitch,” Darci said, groaning and falling back against the wall behind her. That was so not what she needed to hear-not when she had been fantasizing about the sexy sheriff for years, ever since she’d moved to Vevey.

Britt laughed. “Well, it’s not like it’s a forever thing. And if it was such a serious thing, you could have done something about it before now. And maybe you’re not really a suspect. Maybe he’s already found the person,” she offered, trying to be helpful. “Maybe he’s arresting him even now. Then you two can celebrate with dinner and an all-night fuck fest.”

With a narrow glance, Darci muttered, “You are messed up.”

With a snicker, Britt said, “Well, maybe you should go see a movie first.”

They both jumped when Becka hollered out from the back, “Forget the movie. Just get laid.”

Britt and Darci looked at each other and started to giggle.

Bryce Bishop had his eyes on that little bitch. Staring down her nose at people, twitching that tight little ass of hers and then expecting people not to comment. Hell, she was sharing it with half the men in town-he’d be damned if he was going to miss out.

He sauntered into his house and came up short when he caught sight of a familiar head bent over the newspaper spread out on his table. The house had been picked up, too. And unless he was mistaken, there were cookies in the oven.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he snapped, kicking his shoes off and tossing his wallet down.

“Just wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, well, have you forgotten? I kicked your ass out a long time ago,” he reminded her.

Her eyes filled with tears and she sighed, shakily saying, “Okay, I’ll go.”

She was on her way out when he caught her hand. “Hey, why don’t you hang around a few minutes?” he asked, as he reached for the zipper of his fly, pushing down on her shoulder and smiling as her mouth closed around him.

He started to pump his cock in and out of her mouth, shuddering as her fingers cupped his sac. “You always did know how to suck cock, sweet little bitch,” he muttered. “I’ve missed that.”

She wasn’t there in bed wrapped around him like a lamprey when he got up late that night. That was pretty odd. She usually clung, hanging on him like a little puppy. Hell, even her eyes were puppy-dog eyes, watching him soulfully.

He sat up in bed and reached for the pint in the bedside table, swigging down a few drinks, waiting until he felt the familiar buzz before he took a few more. Once he was in that warm, pleasant haze, he sighed, took another sip and sat up.

The room danced dizzily around him and he grinned. Should have gotten drunk before he fucked her earlier. Would have helped a little.

Climbing out of bed, Bryce scratched his chest as he left his room. Bright light flashed in his eyes and he flung his arm up, squinting through the glare to see her standing by the front door, wearing his shirt, staring at him. Whiskey splashed on his arm and chest from the bottle he had thoughtlessly tipped sideways as he blocked the light.

“You called me Darci,” she said, her voice husky.

Bryce scowled. “So what? It’s not like I’m taking you back,” he muttered, raking his hand through his tumbled hair. “You’re a good fuck, but you’re too damned clingy.”

She swallowed, a sound so loud he heard it from several feet away. “Well, I’m sorry I’m so clingy,” she whispered. “I’ve gotten a lot better. But I guess it isn’t good enough.”

He flopped onto the couch, lifted the remote, and stared at the tube as he took a swig from the bottle. Tuning her out, he settled on the porno channel, his hand closing over his semi-rigid cock. Behind him, he heard her moving around and he just wanted her out of there. Maybe he’d dig out a few of the pills he’d hidden away and…

“Bryce,” she whispered as she leaned over him.

“Wha-” Something cold, icy…then a hot liquid spill. He saw red fountaining out from him… What was…

Behind him, she watched as Bryce’s head slumped, blood pumping from him with thick, liquid gushes of crimson red. His hands lifted, trying to close over the gash in his throat. She laid the knife down on the table behind the sofa before she walked away. In the bedroom, she knelt down and reached for the case under the bed. Pulling it out, she studied the labeled tapes closely. She’d watched them, unwillingly, a hundred times. She took the two that were stacked haphazardly on the top. One she needed. The other, she hadn’t seen before. Better make sure he hadn’t been running the video camera some night when she hadn’t realized it.

Then she carefully wiped the box clean and pushed it back under the bed, grabbing her purse and tucking the tapes inside it before returning to the living room. She eyed the knife for a long moment before she picked it up, staring over the edge of the couch at Bryce’s still body.

“Later…bitch,” she whispered as she wiped her fingerprints off the knife before tossing it down. She’d already wiped the room down and with quick, economical motions, she shed his shirt and got dressed. Dropping the shirt by the door before she slid through, she tucked her head low as she headed down the alley behind his house.