No. She couldn’t.
Of course, she couldn’t trust the caller either. The fact he knew so much about this new victim set off all kinds of warning bells. He could very well be the killer.
So she’d be careful, and she’d be thorough, but nothing and no one was stopping her from returning to Dark Falls. She’d prove her father’s innocence, no matter how hard the Dark Falls Police Department pushed back against her. And when she identified the real killer, she’d rub his identity in the collective faces of the cops who’d put her father behind bars for crimes he hadn’t committed.
She wasn’t a naïve, unprepared girl this time around. She wouldn’t be cowed and ran out of town. This time she’d prove that the Dark Falls Police Department had convicted the wrong man, that they’d destroyed an innocent life.
Too bad her father had already paid the price to satisfy their ego and tunnel vision.
Too bad he was no longer around to see himself vindicated.
In a dark library, lit only by moody orange flames crackling in a stone fireplace, a cell phone was crushed beneath a thick black boot. The battery was removed from the debris, and the remaining pieces were swept into a dustpan and tossed into the fire where they crackled and smoked and melted into nothing. The thick, noxious fumes of burning plastic filled the air.
In the morning, when the ashes were cold, he’d scrape the fireplace and spread the ashes throughout the Colorado State Forest. If someone came looking for the cell phone—which they wouldn’t—there would be nothing to find.
After forty years, he was efficient at many things; strategizing, killing, and cleaning up after himself were just three among the many.
As the fire spit and hissed and flared wildly, he eased into the armchair next to the stone hearth and stared into the hypnotic flames. If he were lucky, the fire would lull him to sleep. If luck deserted him, he’d sit here until morning, letting the flames toast his increasingly cold bones.
His bed was intolerable these days. Lying on his back, stomach, or sides an exercise in agony. Even sleeping upright was increasingly painful. Every breath, every movement hurt. Apparently the lift and fall of his chest squeezed the tumors in his lungs until they howled.
This last girl had been his opening salvo as he hoisted the X Factor Killer back on the chessboard. But he hadn’t enjoyed the killing, not like he had all those years ago. There had been too much work involved. Too much pain. Not even the power of holding sway over life and death had made up for the agony that had seized his torso as he’d tightened the wires around her neck and she’d gone crazy trying to escape.
His deteriorating condition had ruined everything. Hell, he’d had to call in sick the next morning, he’d been that wrecked.
He was still hiding his condition at work, but who knew how much longer that would last. The pain pills weren’t cutting it anymore; they didn’t work for as long or half as well as they had at first.
Death was squeezing him. He could feel mortality’s warm breath fading to cold, feel Death’s icy fingers digging in, ready to whisk him away. Death didn’t frighten him. It would simply deposit him back into the earth where his atoms would return to the universe and give rise to new creations.
What haunted him was the thought of being forgotten.
What haunted him was the realization that nobody would know his brilliance.
That was the problem with getting away with murder. Nobody knew that they’d been played… The beauty of his brilliance would follow him into the grave.
Christ, he’d thought those bozos in Major Crimes would have figured it out by now. But no, they had no imagination. He’d have to hand himself over on a silver platter if he wanted to shine a light on his genius for the world to see.
But not until he’d taught Rhys Evans, the egotistical asshole, another lesson.
The fuckwad thought he was better than him? Just because he’d picked up a few more scholarships back in the day? Or collected a few more awards or added those fucking worthless letters after and before his name. Who gave a fuck if the bastard had earned a PhD or could call himself doctor?
The son of a bitch was nothing, a nobody. A lesson Evans should have learned fifteen years ago when he’d lost his twin… and then his girl. Except—he hadn’t taken the lesson to heart, not for long anyway. Fuck, he’d headed off to Sam Houston a broken man and returned years later with a couple of fancy-ass letters after his name and an ego he barely bothered to contain.
It was long past time he cut the bastard back down to size.
This last game would be his best. A brilliant strategy to check out on. People would talk about him for decades. He’d be Dark Falls’ legend.
And Rhys Evans?
Once these last two puzzle pieces arrived in town, the game could begin in earnest and Evans would go down hard. Only this time he wouldn’t get back up.
Chapter Four
Dark Falls had yet hadn’t changed since Ariel had fled its streets fourteen years earlier. It was weird, like her brain was in disconnect from reality—recognizing yet not recognizing the streets before her or the buildings towering above her car.
Oh, the bones of Dark Falls were the same. The flat valley with its collection of houses and buildings still huddled beneath the barren, red bluffs surrounding it. The Colorado and Gunnison Rivers still snaked through the landscape, converging in the Grand Valley to create a new, even grander Colorado River.
But the acres and acres of vineyards that flanked I-70 as she’d closed in on her hometown were new. Most of the peach, apricot, cherry and apple orchards had vanished, giving rise to the vines.
And then there was Dark Falls itself. The streets were wider. The intersections more plentiful. Stoplights and red-light cameras were everywhere. The city center had expanded, creeping outward by several blocks, although the mixture of brick, cement, and stucco buildings remained the same.
But the biggest changes were the sculptures. They were everywhere—flanking the edges of the sidewalks, drenched by fountains in various courtyards, standing tall and thin or squat and wide, in front of dozens of businesses. She slowed the Honda Passport as she drove past a life-size silver horse made from shiny metal shingles. That particular sculpture was one of the few pieces she recognized among the dozens that had overtaken the town. The city had barely started the arts enhancement project when her dad had been arrested, and the Mustang had been the first sculpture commissioned.
At her father’s insistence, she’d watched the horse’s christening in the city courtyard in front of Dark Fall’s municipal building. Rhys’s arm had been around her shoulder, his warmth heating her side, his moist breath teasing her ear as he whispered salacious descriptions of what they could do atop that mustang—
Cutting the memory short, she shook off the mounting tension. Her father would have been proud of the strides his pet project had taken during the past fourteen years. Ariel, on the other hand? Not so much. Apparently the same citizens who’d hung him high and dry had no problem with stealing his city-enhancement plans, which had included using art to bring the tourists in.
She scowled, glaring at the dinosaur skeleton riding a tricycle that was positioned on the sidewalk just ahead of the stoplight.
Well screw them… all of them… and the dinosaur they’d ridden in on. Not one of them had stepped up to take her dad’s side. Not one of them had defended him. Not one of them deserved to benefit from his brilliance.
All in all, the blend of old and new left her with a bad case of the fun house mirrorsies. Her overloaded brain couldn’t quite merge the two realities. Or… maybe… it wasn’t so much the physical changes she was wrestling with as much as the emotional ones.
She’d fled town a raw, emotional mess, ground beneath the heels of one devastation after another. Hounded by the police, the media, and a handful of Dark Falls’ citizens, she’d been drowning in an emotional swamp. Anger, betrayal, disbelief, desperation, fear—just about every negative feeling possible had been driv
ing her back then.
Today she returned with just one emotion in the driver’s seat.
Determination.
Determination to prove her father’s innocence, regardless of how hard Dark Falls’ Police Department pushed back against her. She scowled out the window as she cruised past the station. The building looked exactly the same as it had the day she left—squat and brick—a symbol of injustice and bereavement.
When her head went fuzzy and vague, she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. Forcing a breath through her tight chest, she circled the block.
In the old days, a small mom-and-pop café had been tucked next to the police station. The space was still there, only now the windows bore an artistic rendering of a steaming cup of coffee, rather than a chef in a big white hat. The blocky letters above the graphic proclaimed Back To The Grind.
A coffee shop.
Right next to the police station.
How perfect…
There was no better place to eavesdrop on sensitive conversations and ferret out a town’s secrets than the local coffee shop. She’d stumbled across the missing pieces to multiple homicides by listening in on the conversations taking place around her. All it took to blend into the background was burying her nose in a computer screen or a book and pretending to be focused on the work in front of her.
And the location of this particular coffee shop couldn’t be better. There were bound to be cops ensconced at the tables, and while law enforcement types were generally stingy with their chatter, occasionally she overheard a gold mine of information.
She took a right turn at the end of the block and kept going. One block. Two. At the third intersection, she turned right again and pulled into a parking space along the side of the street. It was a bit of a hike to the coffee shop, but at least the distance from the police station would lessen the likelihood of attracting suspicious eyes. The last thing she needed was someone running her plates and connecting her current last name with the one she’d lived under as a resident of Dark Falls.
Before climbing out of the SUV, she bundled her hair beneath a black ball cap, pulled the brim down over her forehead, and donned an oversized pair of reflective sunglasses. It might be fourteen years since she’d walked the streets of Dark Falls, but she hadn’t changed that much. Someone she’d known back then could easily recognize her now. She needed to avoid recognition. Once people realized who she was, it would be impossible to blend into the background and eavesdrop on the conversations around her.
She huddled into her coat, hugging the laptop case against her side as she walked. Even so, the cold pierced her jacket and sank into her bones. Either her memory had betrayed her, or the weather was unseasonably cold. She’d packed with sixty-degree temperatures in mind, but the cold, crisp breeze assaulting her carried the threat of snow.
A hot cup of coffee sounded better with each brisk stride.
By the time she arrived at her destination, her feet were aching thanks to her inch-too-high heels, and the craving for a steaming beverage to warm her chilled insides was heavy on her mind. She waited in line, avoiding the gazes of the other patrons while battling her own rising curiosity.
Would she recognize anyone in the shop? Would anyone recognize her?
According to the sign as she entered city limits, Dark Falls boasted close to 63,000 residents, which meant there were 20,000 more people living here today than there had been when she’d left. It was unlikely anyone scattered around the tables and booths had been a friend or acquaintance back in the day, but then again, her name and face had been plastered across Dark Falls’ daily newspaper countless times during her father’s arrest and trial.
After paying for her white-chocolate mocha, she settled into a chair at a small table in the middle of the room. More tables and chairs occupied the space to her left while booths lined the wall to her right. If she concentrated, she’d be able to hear at least bits and pieces of conversations from both sides of the coffee shop.
A body found close to town should be the main topic of conversation… unless the cops hadn’t released the information.
Two hours and another hot mocha later, the only thing Ariel had managed to eavesdrop on was an ugly breakup.
What was it about coffee shops and breakups? Every coffee shop stakeout yielded at least one breakup. Sometimes two. And once she’d listened in on five. Five, in one day. It had been enough to make her swear off relationships.
When the door chime sounded, she glanced over, hoping the new customer was a cop. Or two cops. One cop wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. And she was all about intercepting the chatter.
Only the man who stepped into the café was not a cop.
He was tall, lean, and unfairly sexy—with narrow hips, wide shoulders, and short-cropped, dirty-blond hair. She recognized him instantly.
Shock struck like a punch to the stomach. Her breath whooshed out with a muffled umph.
Rhys Evans.
She froze as a burst of warmth followed by tingling lit up her chest.
He hadn’t changed… well, not much anyway. Sure he filled out his dark blue polo shirt and beige cargo pants better than he had at twenty-one. There was more breadth to his shoulders… more width to his chest. But his basic quarterback build was the same. So was the chiseled face and the thick, blondish hair.
What the hell was Rhys doing in Dark Falls? He’d been as anxious to escape their hometown as she’d been.
Of all the people to run into… damn, it had to be Rhys. They’d been inseparable for four years. With the exception of her sister, he was the most likely person to recognize her.
She instinctively slouched down in her chair, hunching her shoulders, only force herself upright again. Such posture would come off as guarded, which was more likely to catch his attention than avoid it.
Surreptitiously she studied him out of the corner of her eye, grimacing as sexual attraction prickled her scalp and chilled her spine. He’d always affected her like this. Like a nuclear blast of pure chemical arousal. The first time she’d laid eyes on him at seventeen—a brand-new student transfer, starting her junior year of high school in a new school and new town—she’d all but melted into a horny puddle at the sight of him.
He’d been her first love. Her first lover. And the first to betray her. He’d been the one to teach her the most painful lessons of all—love didn’t inoculate against pain, and you couldn’t count on anyone.
She’d lost contact with him after she’d left town. The last she’d heard, he’d been scheduled to return to Colorado State and fulfill his football scholarship obligations. But then she’d been scheduled to return to the university too, until her college fund had been swallowed by attorney fees.
Although she’d never been a football fan—she’d merely tolerated the sport for Rhys’s sake—she’d kept tabs on the rising stars in the NFL, certain that someday she’d see his name mentioned or his face scroll across the television screen. Rhys had been committed to making it to, and then in, the NFL. He’d had the talent to get there too, along with the drive. What had gutted that obsessive dream of his?
His sister’s murder most likely.
Rayne’s death had disrupted so many lives. Ariel had wondered for years what her life would be like if Rayne hadn’t died under such ugly circumstances. Would she and Rhys be married? Would they have children? Would she be a teacher like she’d planned?
She watched between quick glances as the barista shamelessly flirted with him. He ignored her overtures.
Now that was new.
Her Rhys had been a terrible flirt. He would have lobbed back the propositions like each suggestive comment earned him points on a scoreboard. His behavior had driven her crazy back then, at least until he’d proved to her—repeatedly—that she was the only woman he wanted in the back seat of his Mustang.
He took the paper cup the barista handed him—a triple shot of espresso based on Ariel’s spying—and turned away from the counter without acknowledging the
young woman’s coy smile.
As he lifted the cup to his lips and tipped back his head, Ariel caught a glimpse of ink peeking out beneath the short sleeves of his polo. The tats were new. Interesting… Too bad his sleeves weren’t just a tad shorter. Tattoos exposed a lot about an individual’s character.
As soon as he started to drink, she was mesmerized by the rippling muscles of his throat. Heat built with each swallow. Memories of her mouth suckling that strong column of flesh ripped into her mind, setting her blood on fire. She was so caught up in the sensually loaded memories and the erotic chain reaction they launched within her, that it took her too long to register the lowering of his hand… or the turning of his head… and the brilliant blue eyes that locked on her face.
His hand tightened around the paper cup, crumpling it slightly.
Uh-oh…
He headed toward her with the strong, sure stride she remembered so well. Damn. He’d obviously recognized her. She searched his face, but no expression touched his chiseled features. Nothing registered in his flat gaze either.
Another departure from old Rhys. This new Rhys had turned into an automaton. No surprise considering what he must have gone through after Rayne’s death. She’d taken a crash course in shutting herself down too. It had been the only way to survive.
While this unexpected encounter might be unfortunate, it wasn’t the end of the world. This was Rhys, after all. He might not believe in her father’s innocence, but a fresh body with the same signature as the X Factor Killer must have given him pause. He had as much at stake as she did in exposing the rot in the Dark Falls’ Police Department and identifying the real killer.
Maybe he’d gotten a phone call too. Maybe that’s why he was in town. They could pool their information and resources, even investigate together. She frowned slightly at the way her pulse kicked up at the thought.
“Ariel. What a surprise.” The level tone to his voice as he stopped in front of her table made a liar out of his words. He didn’t sound surprised in the least. “When did you arrive in town?”
Dark Legacy: (Dark Falls, CO Romantic Thriller Book 3) Page 3