by K. J. Emrick
She knelt down next to him, her designer jeans thin comfort against the hard, cold tiles. Blood had pooled on the tiles under his head. Reaching out a hand, she checked for a pulse at his neck…
And snapped out of the vision back to the present moment. She sucked in a breath and suddenly it was Sarah steadying her instead of the other way around. “You…you found him,” she stuttered.
The look of surprise on her friend’s face was exactly what Darcy had expected. Most people freaked out whenever she did that. Her gift let her know things that she shouldn’t know. Sometimes, when she touched someone else, she could see things that had happened in their life. Especially when it was something so traumatic that the other person carried it so close to the surface of their heart.
Like this.
Braden was dead.
“You found him,” Darcy repeated now that she had her bearings again. “Here. In the house.”
“Yes, I did,” Sarah cried. “How did you know? I found him this morning. I went for a run. I always go for a run. In the morning.” She couldn’t catch a breath, and Darcy didn’t blame her. “When I got back…he was there…on the floor…oh, Darcy!”
She broke down hysterically again, and it was all Darcy could do not to collapse into tears with her.
***
Later, after the police had finished their investigation at the house and taken their photographs and left Sarah with a card that had the department’s phone number and the lead officer’s name on it, and after the Coroner had removed Braden’s body in a sanitary black bag with a long zipper, Darcy sat on the living room couch while Sarah busied herself in the kitchen making tea. Ellen and Connor had joined them, once the police were gone. Shoes had been taken off at the doors to keep from tracking melted snow all over the place and making a mess like the police officers had done.
Darcy had asked, quietly, if Ellen might not want Connor to stay in the car. With a level look Ellen explained that Connor had seen more bad stuff in his life than most people twice his age. He was mature beyond his years, and more than able to handle knowing someone had died in this house. Besides, she’d added after a short pause. She did not want to leave him out of her sight for any length of time.
Darcy knew Connor wasn’t the only one who was having trouble getting over the events of Bear Ridge. She left it alone, though, and now they sat on the couches and talked in hushed tones while Sarah made tea. She hadn’t been able to look Darcy in the eyes since admitting the truth of Darcy’s vision. Not that Darcy wasn’t used to that kind of reaction, but she really, really wished that it hadn’t had to be this way with Sarah. For a lot of reasons.
“Everywhere you go, this happens,” Ellen suddenly said to Darcy. “Doesn’t it?”
“Not everywhere,” Darcy said defensively. When Ellen raised an eyebrow, she sighed. “Fine, it happens a lot. Trouble has a way of finding me. It does not happen everywhere, though. Just…a lot.”
“’Kay.” Ellen crossed her legs under herself on the couch. “Doesn’t seem like there’s a lot for the police to investigate here. I mean, it looks pretty straightforward. That slob in the restaurant had Braden’s wallet, and now Braden is dead. That’s a pretty easy line to draw.”
“I thought he was a hobo?” Connor said.
Ellen stifled a laugh behind a cough. “We don’t actually call people hobos, Connor.”
“Why not? It’s a fun word.”
“Maybe,” his mother agreed. “But it’s not a nice word. We don’t say hobo.”
“Oh. Just slob?”
“Yes, slob is all right.”
“Ellen, really?” Darcy was having trouble not laughing along with Connor’s innocent wisdom herself. “We don’t call people slobs either, Connor. Your mother is just being funny.”
“Hey,” Ellen said. “If the shoes fit, then I call it the way I see it. That Hampton guy was apparently afraid of water. And soap. And, it was pretty obvious that his elevator didn’t go all the way to the top.”
Darcy saw Connor listening intently. It wouldn’t be much longer before the boy would be talking about people’s elevators not going to their top floors. He hung from every word his mother said. What would her children learn from her, Darcy wondered. Would she ever look into a little boy’s face, and see herself staring back?
Wow. There she went again, thinking about having children. Once upon a time it had seemed like a completely ridiculous idea. Even with her now deceased ex-husband. Then she’d met Jon. Now…it was definitely something she liked to think about.
Maybe it was time for her and Jon to have another little talk about it.
“Come on, Darcy,” Ellen said, leaning forward. “You got to admit, that guy was creepy.”
Tea cups rattling on a plastic tray in her hands, Sarah chose that moment to come back in the room. “Hampton McGillis is the local…well, coot, I guess you’d call him. We always figured he was harmless…”
Her voice trailed off sadly and she froze in place, staring off into the middle distance, her tray with its cups of hot water and the little bowl of teabags forgotten. She started up again with a shake of her head, smiling woodenly. “I didn’t know what everyone liked. I like black tea but I’ve got green and Earl Gray, too.”
“Black is fine for me,” Darcy told her as she set the tray down on the coffee table.
The couch was a small sectional that formed an L around the table. Sarah sat on the other end, facing Darcy and Ellen and Connor. Even though she had brought a cup for everyone, she didn’t take one for herself.
“When did that guy ever look harmless?” Ellen asked, in a more direct way than Darcy would have.
Sarah shrugged. “We never thought he was dangerous. He just wandered around town. He begged for money and he slept on park benches and I think maybe he got arrested once or twice for stealing from stores. That was it.”
“Didn’t the police do anything about him?”
Darcy was happy to let Ellen ask the questions, but she wished they could just let poor Sarah be. Her husband had just died. She would need time to find acceptance for that.
Sarah’s eyes were still distant as she answered Ellen’s question. “Like I said, they arrested him when he broke the law. I think they tried to get him committed to a mental institution once or twice but the doctors all said he wasn’t crazy enough. Something. I don’t know.”
She looked at the two of them now, her eyes coming into focus at last. “You really think Hampton killed my husband?”
Darcy was at a loss about how to answer that. It had been the first thing that crossed her mind. Coincidences happened, sure, but not very often. She wasn’t a big believer in them. Especially not where death was concerned.
“Don’t you think he did?” It was Ellen who said what they were both thinking. “I mean, he had your husband’s wallet, didn’t he?”
“Well, I know, but…” Sarah trailed off again, tears fresh in her eyes.
Darcy went over to her friend, sitting close, wrapping her arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about that for now. We’ll let the police figure it out.”
Sarah nodded. “I can’t believe he would have…that he was…”
“It’s all right, Sarah. I’m just sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” A thought occurred to her. “Did the reason you wanted me to come visit have anything to do with Hampton? Or Braden?”
She blinked at Darcy, taking a moment to process the question. “Oh. I nearly forgot about that. Um. Yes, sort of? Braden and I had been having some trouble around the house. Nothing serious. Noises. That was all. Just noises. A few times I thought I saw someone walking around outside but when Braden would turn on the outside lights there wouldn’t be anyone there.”
Darcy knew where this was going. “And you thought I might be able to help?”
Nodding her head, Sarah laughed a nervous little laugh. “It all seems so silly now. Braden and I thought maybe it was ghosts. You know, like on that Haunted Profiles show? I read all about
you in the paper. That whole business with the Town Hall fire and with the murder over at Saxton University. Then when you wrote me and said you had always been able to talk to ghosts, I figured you were just the friend I needed.”
Ellen was watching intently. Those stupid news stories about Darcy that Brianna Watson had used to get herself a better job as a television reporter. When Darcy saw that newswoman again she was going to wring Brianna’s neck.
“Remember?” Sarah said with a little note of desperation. “You wrote that e-mail about how you could sense ghosts?”
That wasn’t exactly how Darcy had put it but she wasn’t going to try and clarify it all now. “Yes, Sarah. I remember. Let me ask you a question, though. Knowing what we know now, don’t you think it’s possible that what you heard was actually Hampton sneaking around your house?”
Sarah’s eyes got wide. Her lip began to tremble.
“He sure is fixated on you,” Ellen added. “Like, psychotically fixated.”
Darcy gave Ellen a glare, silently asking her to tone it down. No matter how true it was.
In the next instant Sarah had jumped up off the couch, nearly knocking Darcy aside. “I need to go,” she said, turning one way, and then the other.
“What?” Darcy stood with her, trying to keep a hand on her shoulder as she kept jerking everywhich way. “Sarah, where could you possibly—”
“The police station! I have to go to the police station!” She flung her hands up and down, shaking Darcy’s arm off, near hysterical. “I need to know. I need to know if that bastard…if he…I need to know. Do you understand?”
Darcy did. If anything ever happened to Jon, no force on Heaven or Earth or in between would keep her from finding the person responsible. Whether Hampton McGillis had killed Braden, or whether he had simply died from natural causes, Sarah needed to know.
“I do understand,” she said, finally trapping Sarah’s hands in her own, getting her to stand still for just a moment. “Come on. We’ll drive you there.”
Chapter Four
Darcy never would have recognized the Birkenfalls police department for what it was. The building was two stories tall, with green shingles and brown siding. It was a far cry from the brick and white pedestals used for official buildings back in Misty Hollow. If not for the green metal sign bolted to the wall next to the front doors, or Sarah’s pointing it out for her, she would have driven right by it and kept looking.
There were four patrol cars in the front parking lot. Darcy had a feeling that was all there were for the entire town. Even if the building was two stories tall, it wasn’t a very big building in any other respect. Looked like Birkenfalls had a smaller force than even Misty Hollow had.
“I know the officers,” Sarah told them as they got out of the car. “Let me do the talking.”
She had calmed down a lot since they had left her house and Darcy figured the change in scenery was doing her good. How would Sarah ever be able to sleep in that house again, knowing that her husband had been lying dead on the bathroom floor until she’d come home to find him there?
Ellen had offered to stay in the car again with Connor, even though her son had grumped about missing all the fun stuff. Darcy had just thanked her and let it go. Police stations were still on Ellen’s list of places to avoid like the plague.
The inside of the building was just as rustic as the outside. Framed paintings of forest scenes hung next to FBI Most Wanted posters. The walls were painted a soft green that reminded Darcy of springtime leaves. Obviously, the town had wanted to give the police station a kinder, gentler look, and they’d succeeded.
There was a front window in the foyer made of Plexiglas that had a little round hole cut into the middle of it. Behind it, Darcy could see filing cabinets and desks and computers and everything an office needed to function. Everything, except people.
“Where is everyone?” she asked.
Sarah banged on the Plexiglas with the side of her fist. “Hey! Shai! Terry! Hey!”
“Shy Terry?” Darcy had to ask.
“No. Shai. She’s the sergeant here. Shai Larson. Terry’s one of the other officers. I went to school with him.”
“Oh,” Darcy said sheepishly. “I get it. I met her, actually. Shai, I mean. When they arrested Hampton.”
Sarah banged on the window again. “Hey!”
“Keep your shirt on!” came the response from inside, followed by the same policeman that Darcy remembered from the restaurant, the skinny, pale guy. “Oh. Hi Sarah. Uh, I’m sorry about Braden. What can I help you with?”
Sarah stared down the nervous cop. “Terry. Let me in. I want to know what’s going on.”
“Sarah, you know I can’t do that.” He swallowed, and Darcy could trace the movement of his large Adam’s apple as he did. He couldn’t stop scratching at his short, buzzed hair. “Sergeant’s orders. No civilians back here.”
“Then you get Shai out here and tell her she’s letting me in or I’ll go right to Gary. You know. The mayor?”
That did the trick. Promising to bring the sergeant right out with him, he left the two women standing in the foyer and disappeared into the back hallways again.
“You don’t mess around,” Darcy told her.
“I learned it from Braden. He and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but he knew how to get his way.”
Darcy had never met Braden. She was sorry for that, but the way Sarah talked about him just then made her think maybe he wasn’t the great guy that Sarah had described him as in their e-mails. Not that it mattered now, of course.
Sarah waited by drumming her fingers on the ledge of the window and glaring at nothing and everything. When Sergeant Shai Larson came out, Sarah pounced.
“Shai, I want to know. What did Hampton have to do with my husband’s death?”
The sergeant made a calming gesture with both hands up. “Sarah, we don’t know anything yet. Let us do our job and as soon as we know anything we’ll—”
“Don’t you tell me to go away!” Sarah yelled. “This was my husband we’re talking about. My husband!”
“Okay, all right. I know that, Sarah. Take it easy. We’re all friends here.”
“You know I’m your friend,” Terry put in from behind his sergeant. “We just want to help.”
“Shut up, Terry,” Sarah told him, making the poor man flinch like he’d been slapped. “Talk to me or I’ll scream bloody murder until you do!”
Shai Larson pressed her lips firmly together and adjusted the duty belt at her waist. Darcy could see the decisions being made in her dark eyes. Usually, police kept details of any investigation quiet until they had all of their facts.
Of course, if they were being quiet now, it meant there actually was an investigation.
And that meant…
“You do suspect this is a murder, don’t you?” Darcy couldn’t stop herself from asking.
Sarah gasped. Terry looked down, suddenly very interested in his shoes. The sergeant stared at Darcy in a calculating way. “I saw you at Moonie’s Lunch, right? You were the one keeping Hampton calm until we could get there.”
“Yes,” Darcy said. “That was me.”
Shai nodded, face still tight. “Well. I need a statement from you, anyway. Both of you, come on in. Let’s talk.”
The door to the right of the foyer window buzzed as Sarah pressed a button underneath the front desk. Sarah whispered a thank-you to Darcy for getting them in. “Looks like I was right about calling you for help.”
Not sure what kind of help she was going to be, feeling like she hadn’t been any kind of help yet at all, Darcy followed Sarah and Shai Larson into the back part of the station and into a small office space.
Shai told Terry to go help Benjamin and Chase before shutting the door almost in his face. He gave Sarah one last look before it closed. Darcy could read a lot in that look, something that started with him and Sarah going to school together, and now was a whole lot more. At least for Terry.
In
the room was a small desk, covered nearly from one side to the other in file folders and newspapers. A triangular plaque that just read “Sergeant” sat near the edge, in danger of being pushed off onto the floor from the weight of the paperwork behind it. Shai took a seat behind the desk. She motioned to the one and only other chair, a simple wooden thing on the other side of the desk. Sarah sat in it, eyes intent on Shai. Darcy stood.
“Now,” the police sergeant started in an official tone, “I want you to know that the department is doing everything it can to get all of the answers you want, Sarah. We’re a small police force, but you’re going to have the full weight and expertise of everyone here working on this.”
Sarah barked a laugh. “Cut it out, Shai. Terry out there barely graduated trade school. Chase is the town’s mailman, for the love of God, when he isn’t working here part time. And I don’t see our beloved chief anywhere. What, is he out of town again? Another business trip?”
When Shai pressed her mouth into a thin line this time Darcy could tell it was a practiced expression. Lots and lots of practice. “I’m in charge this week. Chief Stenak is off at a conference.”
“Right. A conference. There’s one of those a month for him, isn’t there? At least? From what I hear his conferences take place at a special lady’s house over in Seranto.”
Shai shifted in her seat, and Darcy saw the truth of Sarah’s accusation hit home. Well. Small towns and their secrets, she thought to herself. “Sergeant, please,” she said out loud. “We’re only looking for whatever answers you can give us about Sarah’s husband. My fiancé is the chief of police over in Misty Hollow. I know a little bit about how long an investigation can take. Just, if you know anything? Can you tell us please?”
“The chief in Misty Hollow?” Shai asked. “Didn’t Joe Daleson just retire?”
“Yes, he did. Jon Tinker took over as of the first of the year. My fiancé.”
“So I heard,” she said to Darcy in guarded tones. “I also heard his first act as chief was arresting one of his own men. For murder.”