Dark Legacy: (Dark Falls, CO Romantic Thriller Book 3)

by Trish McCallan

This place carried some of the worst memories of her life. Gerald Osborn and Craig Patel, the two detectives who’d been responsible for investigating—and likely framing—her father, had worked out of the third floor. They’d made her life a living hell for most of her twentieth and twenty-first year.

  She paused at the top of the stairs to catch her breath and glared down the hallway toward the interview rooms. It had been fourteen years since she’d climbed those stairs, but nothing had changed. The windowless, claustrophobic rooms she’d been interviewed in countless times before were right down the hall.

  The walls were still beige, although it looked like someone had slapped a fresh coat of paint on them. The floor was still wood, stained industrial brown.

  Rhys intercepted the young, blue-suited officer headed their way. “Is anyone in interview one?”

  The tall, gangly boy, on the cusp of manhood, stopped. “No sir.”

  With his freckled face and blazing red hair, the kid looked too young to be a cop. Heck, he reminded her of Ron Howard back in his Happy Days phase. At least until you got a good look at his blue eyes—his shuttered, seen too much and none off it good eyes.

  “Tell the Cap I’m in interview one and I need to talk to her.” Rhys touched Ariel’s elbow, urging her forward.

  She jolted forward, his touch burning through her clothes like an open flame. It was her imagination… It had to be. There was no way she could actually feel his bare fingers through her winter coat.

  “Sure thing, Detective Evans.” The young man turned around and headed back the way he’d come.

  “Appreciate it, Connie,” Rhys called after him. “If you see Sevier and Mason, send them to interview one too.”

  “Wow, you guys are indoctrinating them young these days, aren’t you?” Ariel drawled as they closed on the room she remembered far too well. “That child looks barely old enough to shave.”

  “Connie?” Rhys shrugged and reached past her to open the door to the interrogation room. “He’s older than he looks. He’s a good cop. He’ll make a good detective someday.”

  Ariel swallowed a sneer. Sure, he would, after they’d filled his head full of blue wall crap and convinced him that anything and everything was acceptable as long as it resulted in a conviction. Tampering with evidence? Check! Planting evidence? Hell, why not, as long as it sent someone to prison—even if that someone was innocent.

  She ducked beneath Rhys’s arm and entered the interrogation room, holding her breath in case that warm, clean scent of his tried to fuck with her lungs.

  Once inside the tiny space that still frequented her nightmares, she turned in a slow circle. The table sitting squarely in the middle of the room was new. Identical to the old one, but white instead of black. The chairs surrounding it were heavy-duty aluminum and white as well. A camera was tucked in the right corner, up toward the ceiling. She sent it an airy four-fingered wave and went back to comparing.

  She nodded to the mirror across from the table. “That thing doesn’t fool anyone, you know. It’s common knowledge such mirrors are observation windows.”

  Ignoring the comment, he gestured toward the table. “Take a seat.”

  Because he’d told her to sit, she continued standing. “I’m surprised you’re willing to wait, alone, with me. Hasn’t anyone taught you guys yet that interviewing a woman on your own is dangerous? Hell, I could claim anything, and it would be my word against yours.”

  Something odd flickered across his face before it went blank and bland. He pointed up toward the camera. “Opening the door activated it. Everything is recorded from the moment we stepped in the room.” He paused a beat before adding dryly, “In case you intended to claim I behaved inappropriately toward you.”

  She shrugged. Now that enough time had passed to illustrate her refusal to sit on command, she dragged out a chair and flopped down. “Can we get this show on the road? I have places to be and people to see.”

  “Where are you staying?” Instead of taking a seat himself, he continued to stand.

  Crossing her arms, she silently stared back. Like she was going to tell him that and have the local cops show up at her door, trying to intimidate her. Not that it would take them long to track down her motel reservations. Reservations, as in plural. But they wouldn’t find her in any of the rooms, even though she’d checked into all three motels and stowed a decoy suitcase on each bed.

  Three rooms had probably been a very expensive overkill, but she’d taken the precaution to throw off the man who’d brought her back to town. If the killer had been the caller, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him to find her. The financial investment was well worth her life.

  An added bonus to the multiple room reservations was how much harder it would make it for the police to locate her.

  A win-win as far as she was concerned.

  Her real rental was an Airbnb condo and reserved under the name Margorie Hammand, who was her agent’s cousin. Ariel looked enough like the picture on the woman’s driver’s license to pass for her, and for a generous fee Margorie had handed over her credit card for booking the Airbnb.

  If someone was determined enough and had the right set of skills, they could still track her down, but it would take them a lot longer.

  An abbreviated knock sounded, and the door opened. The woman who poked her head in was tall and tanned with dark hair pulled back in a bun and wide-set chocolate eyes—if chocolate were reserved and stern.

  “Detective.” The woman inclined her head toward Rhys. “A minute, please.”

  Rhys followed her into the hallway. The door closed behind him, sealing Ariel in silence. A minute ticked by… then two. When the door opened again, Rhys, the woman who’d summoned him, and two more men entered the room.

  “Gentlemen, Captain Scanlon, this is Ariel Beaubien—Kenneth Hamilton’s eldest daughter.”

  “Ariel.” Rhys nodded toward the two flat-faced men. “Detective Sevier and Detective England.” He turned toward the tall woman. “And Captain Scanlon, the head of Major Crimes.”

  Ariel studied the woman. If she was the captain of Major Crimes, that made her Rhys’s—along with everyone else in the unit’s—boss. How did that sit with Osborn and Patel? Her research indicated that both men were still on active duty in the major crimes squad. As chauvinistic and dominant as they’d been during her dealings with them, she couldn’t see either man sitting subservient to a female supervisor.

  “Ms. Beaubien, thank you for agreeing to speak with us.” Captain Scanlon offered a reserved smile and pulled out a chair, taking a seat across the table from Ariel.

  “No need to thank me.” Ariel folded her arms across her chest and tried to look nonchalant. It had been a long time since she’d been surrounded by cops. “Rhys and I have a deal. You answer my question, and I answer yours.”

  “So he’s informed me.” The tightening of Scanlon’s lips indicated how thrilled she’d been with the news. “This phone call he mentioned. When did you receive it?”

  Uhh… uhh… uhh. If you gave cops an inch, they took the entire city. She tsked. “The deal is I go first. Two questions. Then I’ll answer one of yours.”

  The good captain looked like she’d swallowed a puffer fish. Her face went stretchy and tight. “Detective Evans had no business making deals with you.”

  Ahhhhhh… poor Rhys… he was in trouble with his boss. She shot him a pseudosympathetic look that tried to turn real on her.

  No way… she was not gonna feel sorry for him. He’d joined the enemy and deserved what befell him. Not that he seemed particularly worried about the consequences of their arrangement.

  “I see.” She made a noisy show of pushing back her chair. “Then we’re done here. You’ll have to excuse me, I have an appointment with a reporter at Dark Falls Daily News.”

  As threats went, it was particularly ballsy considering she hadn’t even contacted the paper yet. She expected someone to counter with a threat to arrest her, but Rhys’s captain simply sighed.
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  “Relax, Ms. Beaubien. I didn’t say we wouldn’t honor the deal you and Detective Evans struck. Ask your two questions.”

  Well, that had certainly gone better than she’d expected.

  She took a few seconds to word her question so it wouldn’t leave them with enough wiggle room to spread false information. “Was a body discovered recently that carried the signature of the X Factor Killer?”

  Since Captain Scanlon appeared to be calling the shots, Ariel addressed the question to her and intently watched the woman’s impassive face.

  “Yes.”

  Absolutely no expression accompanied Scanlon’s confirmation.

  But… wow… Ariel hadn’t expected the cops to confirm what her early-morning informant had told her. She’d expected stonewalling, followed by threats of dire consequences. Scanlon’s bland yes brought her up short.

  “Next question?” Scanlon drawled.

  Ariel scrambled for her second question. “Does this new victim match the victimology of previous victims, and was she dumped in the X Factor’s dumping sites?”

  One of the detectives, Sevier—if she remembered correctly—slouched down in his chair and sent her a dry smile. “That’s two questions.”

  She shrugged. “Multiple choice. You pick.”

  “Yes and yes.” Scanlon directed a quelling frown toward the detective who’d spoken. “Did you get a phone call telling you about this homicide?”

  “Yes.” What the hell, they’d given her a bonus answer. She’d throw one in as well. “Two nights ago.”

  Foreheads wrinkled and loaded glances traveled the room. Her response meant something to them, but what?

  “My turn,” Ariel said, in case they’d forgotten the rules. “Are you investigating this new murder in conjunction with the X Factor Killer case?”

  Scanlon cocked her head, her gaze steady on Ariel’s face. “We’re looking into everything, including the your father’s case.”

  Ariel searched the captain’s brown gaze for signs of subterfuge. The woman didn’t blink or look away. Of course, that didn’t mean anything. Cops were masters at hiding their true intentions.

  “What did your caller say?” The question came from Rhys this time.

  Ariel’s gaze flickered toward him. His blue eyes were red-rimmed and narrow. His face tight. His wheat-colored hair ruffled. He looked tired. She banished the spurt of concern and focused on his question.

  “He said a body had been found in Dark Falls. In the west corner of the Colorado State Forest. He said the victim was female, blond, blue-eyed, with an X-10 carved in her forehead.” She paused, stared at Rhys a moment, then shifted her attention to Captain Scanlon. “He said my father was innocent, and this new body proved it, which is why you’re covering it up.” Without planning, her next question slipped out. “Is it true?”

  A hint of sympathy touched Scanlon’s brown eyes.

  “No.” The captain’s voice was quiet and sincere. “There’s no indication this victim is connected to your father’s case.” Ariel opened her mouth, ready to protest, and Scanlon held up her hand. “We’re investigating possible connections, Ms. Beaubien. But everything, from the body’s condition to its location, can be explained. The X Factor Killer’s MO, victim profiling, and dump site have been well documented. This new killer could have picked up the victimology from news reports, from talking to people, even from visiting your father in prison.”

  Ariel frowned. “You’re saying he’s a copycat?”

  Scanlon nodded. “Most likely. Yes.”

  Ariel was impressed that the woman’s tidy bun didn’t budge. She’d have to use cement to keep her hair in place like that.

  “You keep saying he,” Rhys reminded her. “You’re certain your informant was male?”

  “Well, the voice was digitally masked, but I’m almost certain it was a man.”

  Rhys cocked his head, his expression thoughtful. “What makes you so certain?”

  She thought about protesting that she had the next question, but she’d asked everything she’d come to ask. “Because of his speech pattern. He was demanding. Aggressive. He told me to shut up and listen. Women are usually more acquiescent. They tend to defer rather than demand.”

  Nods went around the table. Apparently they could all agree on that.

  “What phone did this guy call on?” Sevier asked, his light brown eyes warming.

  “My cell.”

  “Do you have it on you?” Rhys leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table.

  “Sure. But it won’t be much help. The call came in as unknown. Ash sent her phone to the lab in Quantico, but they weren’t able to pull anything of use off it.”

  “Your sister got a call from this guy too?” Rhys’s voice sharpened.

  “Oh…” Ariel sent him a smile verging on a smirk. “Did I forget to mention that?”

  Rhys jaw tightened. Oh yeah, he’d picked up on her snark all right.

  “We’d like to send your phone through our people.” Rhys enunciated each word, his tone tightening with each syllable.

  Nope. Nope. Wasn’t happening.

  “I’m sorry.” She projected as much insincerity as possible into her tone. “That’s not possible. My phone is my lifeline. It has all my contacts. All my sources.” She tried to scratch up a conciliatory smile but suspected she failed from the way his face hardened. “Maybe after I get a new phone and transfer all my contacts and stuff over. But honestly, if the techs at Quantico couldn’t pull anything useful from Ashley’s phone, the likelihood of your guys being able to pull anything from mine is…” She let her voice trail off and shrugged.

  In unison the rest of the faces across from her hardened. No surprise, few cops liked being told no.

  “You realize the man who brought you here could very well be the killer. You could be his next target?” Rhys asked, his voice as icy as his face.

  Of course she was aware of that. Ariel squelched a flare of annoyance. Rhys, at least, should know her better. She’d never been clueless, even as a teenager.

  “And exactly how are you planning to verify he’s the killer from my phone?” she challenged. “Other than the time stamp and length of the call, there is no data for you to retrieve. You’ll find out more by pulling my phone records.”

  The fact none of them disagreed with her told her she was right, and steps were already underway to retrieve her phone records. Good thing she’d been expecting that move.

  Before things disintegrated even further, she shoved back her chair and rose to her feet. “I believe we’re done here.”

  She was anyway.

  Apparently they were as well. Multiple chairs screeched as everyone stood.

  But then Captain Scanlon said, “There are several more questions we need answers to.”

  So, Rhys and his work buddies weren’t done. Too bad.

  She shot the captain a pseudo sunny smile. “I don’t have any more questions.”

  Translation—I’m not answering any more of yours. From the constipated looks that overtook the room, everyone picked up on her silent but salient message. She headed for the door, half expecting one of them to stop her. They didn’t, although Rhys followed her out of the room and accompanied her down the hall.

  They were halfway to the stairs before Rhys unlocked his jaw enough to grind out, “I wasn’t making shit up, Arie. Your anonymous caller could very well be our killer.”

  Arie…

  It had been a long time since she’d heard her nickname on his lips. Too bad it was so clipped and frustrated. He sounded like he wanted to strangle her. Mentally, she shrugged. She’d wanted him to show some honest-to-God emotion. Well, he finally was. She could hardly complain that what he expressed was pissed rather than lovey-dovey.

  “I’m aware of that possibility.” She paused at the top of the stairs and swung around to face him. “And I’ve taken precautions.”

  “Really?” Up went his thick, sandy eyebrows. “Like what?”

 
No way in hell was she telling him about her decoy motels or her conceal-carry permit. “Like none of your business.”

  Turning, she took the stairs at a quick clip, anxious to escape the building, the persistent memories, and the man at her side.

  Rhys caught her elbow and slowed her headlong flight, along with the persistent rap… rap… rap of her heels. “For Christ’s sake, slow down. Those shoes aren’t made for the hundred-yard dash down three flights of stairs.”

  He wasn’t kidding. Not only were the stupid pumps too high on the heel, they were slippery against the wood flooring. Not the best combination for speed. Or stairs. Since she was a firm believer in not trying to kill herself, she slowed down.

  It suddenly occurred to her as they descended the stairs that she’d forgotten to ask whether there had been more than one new victim with the X Factor MO. Was the dead body her midnight caller had mentioned the only victim the Dark Falls Police Department was hiding? Or were there more?

  It was a particularly important question. Maybe even the most important one, and she’d forgotten to ask it. She stopped walking to scowl.

  Damn it. She’d obviously been more rattled than she’d realized. It wasn’t like her to be so forgetful. But then she hadn’t expected to run into Rhys or find out that he’d donned the blue shield. Nor had she expected to find herself in an interrogation room when she’d left her car.

  She should cut herself some slack… extenuating circumstances and all that.

  “What’s wrong?” A small frown gathering between his pale blue eyes, Rhys scanned her face.

  “Nothing.” Ariel started down the stairs again. There was still time to find out what she needed to know. The tall, lean—too freaking sexy for his own good—man walking beside her knew the answer to her forgotten question. She shot him a glance beneath her lashes. “So tell me, Detective Evans, are you and your boys in blue hiding any more X Factor bodies?”

  “We don’t wear blue. More like khakis.”

  He gestured with both hands toward his cargo pants, a completely deadpan expression on his face… unless you concentrated on his mouth and the light upward curve to his lips. Which she was not… no she was not.