Darker Than Desire

by Shiloh Walker

  “I’m working. I have a—”

  “Thom, people are in danger,” David said, taking one slow step toward the quiet, soft-spoken young man.

  His gentle brown eyes narrowed, Thom studied David. Thom wasn’t afraid, but that wariness, the uncertainty, on his face lingered. He didn’t believe David. David didn’t care. He didn’t need Thom’s belief—he needed fucking directions.

  After a few more seconds, Thom gave a slow nod. “You will follow me. If there is something urgent, you’ll need to return to town quickly, not waste time bringing me back here.”

  Without saying anything else, David turned and headed away, the keys to his own truck clutched tight in his fist. He didn’t want to think about what he was going to do if they found Sarah. She was the only daughter of a man who had been like a father to him.

  But the icy finger of dread running down his spine wasn’t one he could ignore.

  * * *

  Sunlight shone like silvery splinters through clouds, falling down in a narrow column on the old barn. Maybe some people would find it picturesque, but as he rounded the final bend in the dirt road and stopped next to Thomas the only thing David felt was cold, and more cold.

  “Her car isn’t here,” Thomas pointed out needlessly.

  “Yeah. I see that,” David muttered, striding past the other man, his focus on the barn.

  Through the gaps in the weathered old doors, he could see flashes of black paint.

  The truck.

  The doors creaked as he pulled them open and one look inside told him that they really, really needed to get on with those plans for tearing this place down. But that was a worry for another day.

  His heart thudded in his ears as he rounded the truck, and then it stopped altogether as he came to the front. The damage to the metal was minimal.

  But the damage was there. David crouched down, staring at it hard. Then he looked at Thom. “I’ve got a flashlight in the glove box. Can you get it?”

  Wordlessly Thom left and a moment later returned, handing over the Maglite. David went to his back on the dirt floor, working his way under the truck, trying not to touch it. It was clean. Too clean. She’d washed it. Otherwise, there would be dust on it. The road leading up here was dirt, and there was no way she could have kept the truck this clean.

  Swearing, he slid out from under the truck and crouched in front of it, shining the light on the grill, all but crawling over it as he stared. This close, he could even faintly smell the scent of the soap she’d used. Son of a—

  Wait.

  There.

  Eyes narrowing, he leaned in until he literally couldn’t get any closer. It wasn’t on the outside of the truck, but there. In the grill, wedged in tight, was a tiny little scrap of cloth. Faded blue, like the shirt Clay Brumley had worn. And there was a rusty red smear near it. Now that David had seen it, it was easier to see a few others.

  His stomach shuddered, heaved, as his mind pieced it all together. Sarah had sat behind the wheel of this truck—Abraham’s truck—and run a man over. Not once, but several times, if the rumors in town were true. David had picked up all those little whispers, things people wouldn’t say to him, but he heard them all the same.

  He’d taught her to drive using this truck.

  And she’d use it to kill. Because of me.

  Something started to scream in his veins, a feeling he barely recognized. It had been too long since anything had horrified him. After a man has experienced some of the worst things that can be done to another, not much could horrify him.

  But now, as David stared at the faint splatters of blood, he realized it was all true. He no longer had suspicions about Sarah. He knew it was the truth.

  She’d killed Brumley. She’d likely killed Max and Louisa and had tried to kill Taneisha.

  If the cops didn’t find Sarah, she’d kill again.

  David’s fingers hovered over the grill, but he stopped himself.

  Evidence, he thought. They’d need the evidence.

  “Where is she, Thom?”

  Thomas was staring at the fender, his brow puckered. Slowly, he looked up. “Looks like she hit something. A deer, maybe?”

  “Not a deer,” David said, rising to his feet as he moved around the truck to the driver’s side door. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.” Exasperation came through clearly in his voice. “I’ve seen her heading into town. I thought maybe she was going to talk to you, or maybe try to find a job … or maybe she was even thinking about leaving. She’s not happy. But I don’t know where she is.”

  David processed that, taking it all in. “Has she attended church?”

  “She was there when we held it at my home.” Thom rubbed his brow. “But … she didn’t stay for the meal.”

  The meal after church was important in this world. David had stopped going years ago. The pretense, the way people kept trying to make him feel part of a world where he could never belong—didn’t want to belong—had grated on his nerves and only fanned the anger that lived inside him.

  But Sarah wouldn’t miss those meals.

  His hand was steady as he pulled open the truck door and very slowly started to search. He didn’t know exactly why, not until he reached under the bench seat and pulled out a small bundle of neatly folded clothes.

  They were clothes that Sarah never would wear.

  Not unless she was trying to hide.

  Blue jeans. A blue T-shirt.

  “What is—” Thomas stopped as he saw the clothes, a line appearing between his eyebrows.

  David threw them down and slammed the door shut. Over his shoulder, he said, “Go home. Call Madison Police Department—you need to get a message to Detective Jensen Bell. It’s urgent. You’ll get there before my cell phone will work out here. Tell her there’s a black truck out here with some damage to the front of it and what could be blood. Make sure she knows Sarah is not out here, though. At least not that we’ve seen.”

  “What’s going on?” Thom demanded, a thread of steel coming through the peaceful, easy manner.

  David stopped and turned to look at him. “Somebody shot me the other day.” He jerked the collar of his shirt open, baring the bandaged wound. “Minutes later, the man who shot me was run down by a woman, driving a truck of this make and model. She had long blond hair and witnesses place her between thirty and fifty years of age. She was wearing a blue T-shirt. A woman fitting that description also attacked a woman I’d had words with a few days ago. Witnesses saw a black truck on the scene.”

  “You can’t mean to say…” The words trailed off and Thom just stared at him.

  “I don’t want to think it.” David met the gaze of the man across from him. Thomas had only been four years old when David had come here. The boy had been one of the first people David had spoken with, aside from Abraham and Sarah. No. He didn’t want to think Sarah could hurt anybody.

  But that flat, opaque look he’d seen in her eyes haunted him. As did bits and pieces of conversations that stretched back years. She had anger inside her. He’d recognized it before, but hadn’t realized just how deep that anger ran.

  It had been strongest when he told them he was leaving here.

  Go back to the English? Why?

  How can you leave me now?

  Nothing but trouble will be there.

  “Call the cops,” he said again, his voice soft now.

  Then he turned and walked away. Thom would make that call, if for no other reason than because he wouldn’t risk harm coming to another person. But he’d hurt over it. David regretted that.

  Just another ember to the fire of the rage building inside him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The endless chatter of the two boys in the backseat had Sybil longing for a tub of hot water, her earbuds and a book. She wanted to block out the world. Just for a little while.

  Block it out, pretend the past few days—the past few weeks—hadn’t happened.

  And all of that was unl
ikely. Dealing with two boys didn’t double the workload the way one would think. It tripled it. Maybe even quadrupled it. The mess was three times bigger, the homework seemed three times more complicated, and the two of them went through more food than she would have thought possible.

  Taneisha was still in the hospital, under observation for another twenty-four hours before the doctors felt it would be safe for her to leave.

  When she did leave, Sybil wanted Taneisha to come home with her for a while. She couldn’t entirely buy this bit that somebody had attacked Taneisha because of some weird connection to David, but if that was what was going on then it was better if they all stayed together, right?

  Safety in numbers, Sybil thought as she turned down her street. Weariness crashed through her at the sight of the squad car, but after David’s late-night visit—and the heaviness of his words—she could understand.

  Maybe.

  She had a feeling his gloom-and-doom outlook was coloring his view on everything, and not just their never-gonna-happen relationship, but she wouldn’t risk the safety of the boys.

  She waved at Thorpe as she turned in and then looked up at the house. It was quiet, the windows staring blankly back at her. Nothing looked any different. “Okay, boys. Round up the backpacks. Grab lunch boxes, jackets, et cetera, et cetera. I don’t want five trips out to the car to get whatever you forgot.”

  “What did I forget?” Drew asked, his voice guileless.

  “What haven’t you forgotten?” She winked at him in the mirror as she pushed the door open. Tension gathered at the base of her neck and she decided some Tylenol was one thing she’d be getting, even if she couldn’t get that bath, that twenty minutes away from the world. Tylenol and five minutes on the couch. Maybe even twenty. She’d break her cardinal rule and let the kids play video games during the week.

  Blowing out a breath, she eyed her house with more than a little trepidation. It was nothing new. Ever since Taneisha’s attack, Sybil had jumped at every little noise, every weird shadow. The other day, she’d left her closet door open and she’d woken up, seen something fluttering and almost screamed. By the time she worked up the courage to turn on the light, she’d been a sweating, nervous wreck—all because the robe she kept hanging on the inside of the door had been fluttering in the breeze caused by her ceiling fan.

  Another reason I’ll be glad when all this crazy shit is done with, she thought sourly. I can stop feeling like some ninny who jumps at every damn thing.

  “Come on, guys,” she said, climbing out and heading up the sidewalk. “Don’t forget anything.” She waited until the doors shut behind her before she thumbed the lock on her key fob.

  They were halfway up the steps when Darnell said it, his voice charming: “Ah, Ms. Chalmers?”

  “What did you forget?” she asked, sighing.

  “My water bottle. Need to wash it out.”

  She unlocked the car with a shake of her head. Shifting the weight of her laptop bag on her shoulder, she glanced at Drew out of the corner of her eye. “You two are going to drive me nuts.”

  Drew just grinned. “I guess now is a good time to tell you I left my inhaler in the car.”

  “Go.”

  * * *

  The door creaked as it opened.

  Sarah’s hand was sweaty. The gun felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Strong. I have to be strong. She’d used the gun before. Once. She hadn’t even known what she was doing when she’d used it, but she’d been determined and the Lord had guided her.

  He would guide her again.

  A boy’s voice floated through the air.

  Her heart clenched.

  But she steeled herself against it.

  There can be nothing between us.

  * * *

  Behind her, Sybil heard the boys talking. Their voices seemed to come at a distance as she pushed the door open. Had it always creaked so loudly?

  She pushed it open, clutching at her keys. Something skittered down her spine and she clutched the door tightly instead of pushing it open for the kids she could hear pounding up the steps of the porch.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw somebody move.

  Everything inside her tensed. Stilled.

  Whirling around, she braced herself between the kids and the house. “Why don’t you two go for a walk?” she said brightly.

  Something clicked in her ear. A voice, almost soundless, said, “Come inside. Make the boys come inside with you.”

  “You two go for a walk,” Sybil said, her voice firm, flat. Not shaking. That was good. She couldn’t panic. “And when you’re done, you can talk to your friend, Ben.” As she said it, she lifted her gaze, and only her gaze, to the parked police car.

  Darnell reached out, his eyes wide, something that might have been fear and understanding flickering in his gaze. He had old eyes, Sybil realized in that moment. Taneisha’s kid had old eyes. He reached out and caught Drew’s hand. “Come on, Drew. I don’t wanna do homework yet.”

  “Make them come inside,” the voice insisted, still so very quiet.

  “Aunt Sybil—”

  “Come on.” Darnell started to back away, his eyes straying to the door Sybil held clutched in her hand.

  She heard something click, and at the same time a hard, blunt object shoved into her side. She kept the grunt behind her teeth through sheer force of will.

  Something in her eyes finally came across and Drew backed away, still frowning. But he followed Darnell, shooting a look at her over his shoulder as they headed down the stairs.

  “Get them back here!”

  Slowly, Sybil backed into the house, lifting her hand to wave casually at Ben. He eyed her through the window. The smile on her face felt forced, but she wasn’t doing a damn thing until there was more distance between her and those boys. Once they were out of sight, all bets were off.

  Carefully, she shut the door. “Ma’am, I don’t know what you want. I’ve got money in my purse,” she said, surprised to hear that her voice was still steady.

  “Get the boys.” Her voice was still a whisper.

  Slowly, Sybil turned. “No. Did you see the cop car? If I go out there, yelling for them after I just sent them away, that will attract more attention.”

  She was blond, Sybil noted. The papers had been too vague in their description, too. She’d place this woman in her early forties, maybe a bit younger, but the harsh set of her face could be making her seem older.

  She was also Amish—or she played the part very well.

  Something told Sybil that it wasn’t a part she played. Which made her blood run cold.

  The gun the woman carried looked all too real, and despite the plain clothes the woman wore, despite the little white bonnet that covered her blond hair, she held the gun like she meant to use it.

  Sybil felt a familiar tightening in her chest as panic started to flood through her. Breathe. Just breathe. Somehow, she didn’t see this woman letting her go digging through her purse for the inhaler she only rarely used, but going into a full-fledged asthma attack because she was scared wasn’t going to help things, either.

  “I have money,” she said softly. “I don’t have a lot, but I’ll give you—”

  “So typical. The English and their greed.” The woman’s eyes, a flat, muddy brown, raked over Sybil. “I don’t want money.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  That utter lack of emotion scared Sybil to her very core.

  Please … God. Tell me Darnell called the cops.

  * * *

  Darnell and Drew rounded the block. “Don’t look back,” Darnell whispered. He’d said it every five seconds since they walked away, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

  “Don’t look back.”

  Once the house was out of view, though, he looked at Drew. “Can you run?”

  Drew reached into his pocket and pulled out the inhaler he’d grabbed from the car. He stuck it in his mouth, and a minute later he nodded. “Not for long, but I c
an. What’s wrong?”

  Darnell’s eyes, wide and dark, moved back to his. “I don’t know. But something is. She looked the same way Mom looked the day somebody broke into my aunt’s house when we went to visit for Thanksgiving.” He swallowed and then added, “I think somebody might be inside. She wants us to tell Detective Ben. Let’s run.”

  They dumped their backpacks—maybe he wouldn’t have to do his math homework. He hated math. As they started to run, he tried to figure out what was going on. Layla. He bet it was all Layla’s fault, whatever it was. That girl was nothing but trouble.

  Miss Sybil oughta just—

  Automatically he cut the thought off, feeling bad because he knew even thinking that would make Mama mad and she was in the hospital and hurt and she didn’t need to be mad.

  “You breathing—” He stopped as he heard a car. He jerked his head up, everything inside him tensing.

  Up ahead, he saw another cop car, going around the block just up ahead. “We should tell him. If somebody is in the house and looks outside and we’re talking to Detective Ben, he could hurt your aunt.”

  * * *

  “What do you want?” Sybil asked again. She flicked her eyes to the woman’s face, something about her niggling at the back of Sybil’s head, but she couldn’t figure out what. She knew faces, though. She’d figure out—if she had time.

  “If you’d stayed away from him,” the woman said, her voice almost sad, the first sign of emotion she’d shown, “I wouldn’t have bothered you. But you came between us. You might even be why he left. That’s why this has to happen.”

  Ice gripped her heart. “Who?” she asked, keeping the fear out of her voice. She already knew the answer, though. He’d told her. Warned her.

  “You know who.” Venom flooded her voice as she eyed Sybil.

  “I don’t,” she said, shaking her head. Had the boys made it around the block? Had they told Ben? Fuck, the woman was still standing too close to the window. What if she looked outside and saw them?

  Sybil had to get her away from the window. Had to get the gun.

  “Caine. He belongs with me.” The words were spoken through clenched teeth.