Darker Than Midnight. Maggie Shayne
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it would have helped, if she weren’t trying so hard to put some distance between herself and Bry—for his sake, mostly.
“Let’s get going. Beth and Josh are waiting for us,” she said.
Bryan set the Jeep into motion. But as they drove away, Dawn couldn’t stop her gaze from straying back to that dark, lonely house. And as she did, she saw the woman again, a filmy, nearly transparent shape in the night. Not real, Dawn knew. She wasn’t real at all. None of them were.
It’s not going to work, you know, she thought. You’re never going to make it work, Father. Never.
The best restaurant in Blackberry, the Sugar Tree, was a two-story log cabin with picture windows that looked out on to a rolling, snow-covered lawn. In the summer, the hostess told Jax, there were glorious flowers and blossoming trees, a tiny pond with a fountain in the center, and outdoor tables. But this time of year, all the fun was indoors. The second floor was loft-style on all four sides, leaving the center of the place open clear to the rafters. It was a hell of a place.
The hostess seated them at a table near the huge stone fireplace with a window nearby, leaned closer and said, “Welcome back to Blackberry, Lieutenant Jackson. We sure hope you like it enough to stay.” She sent her a wink. “Your waitress will be right over to take your drink orders. Enjoy your dinner.”
Jax lifted her brows and sent a look at the three coconspirators who sat around the circular table. “So, does the whole town know what I’m doing here?”
“Honey,” Frankie said, “this is Blackberry. The whole town probably knows what time you arrived and what your mother made you for breakfast.”
“Small towns,” Jax said with a shake of her head.
“It’s not all bad,” her mom told her. “People may know a lot of your business, but not all of it. It’s nice that they care enough to want to know what you’re willing to share, but also enough to know when to leave it alone.”
Jax shot a look at her father.
“She means they don’t pry here,” her father interjected. “I’ve confided in Frankie about my past. But I’ve seen no sign that it’s gone any further.”
“It hasn’t,” Frankie assured him. “Nor will it.”
He nodded. “I don’t deserve your loyalty, Frankie, but I do appreciate it.”
“Of course you deserve it.” Frankie patted his hand across the table. “We’ve all done things we wish we could undo.”
“Few as much as I,” he said softly.
“Dad, you paid for what you did.”
He met Jax’s eyes, and for a moment they were so dark, so sullen, she didn’t even recognize them. But then he looked away. Her father was a haunted man. Sometimes she wondered if he knew the truth—but no. He couldn’t possibly. It would kill him if he knew.
Mariah said, “You’ve had all day to think it over, Cassie. Don’t keep us in suspense any longer than you have to. Have you made a decision yet?”
Jax tore her worried gaze from her father, sent her mother a nod and a smile, then focused on the chief of police. “I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to stay in the house and shadow you on the job for the next two weeks. And—hell, there’s not much point playing cutesy, is there? Unless something really troubling crops up, or you decide to withdraw the offer, I imagine I’ll be accepting the job when the two weeks are up.”
“Hot damn!” Frankie said with a smile. “Well, this calls for a celebration!” Even as she said it, a pretty young waitress arrived, dressed in black pants with a knife-sharp crease, spotless white blouse, red ribbon tied in a bow at her collar, and carrying an order pad in her hand.
“Champagne?” Frankie asked the others.
“I prefer a nice cold beer,” Jax said. “In the bottle.”
“Ahh, me, too,” Frankie said. “But make mine an N.A., in a frosted mug.”
“Mariah and I will have wine. A nice merlot. You choose,” Ben told the waitress.
The girl smiled brightly and trotted off to get the drinks. Jax said, “I’m kind of looking forward to spending the night at the house tonight.”
“Tonight?” her mother asked.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Well, the power’s not turned on. There’s no phone yet, no heat….”
“I can have the utilities turned on fast,” Frankie said. “But not that fast. By tomorrow, for sure.” She shrugged. “On the other hand, I’ve already got a bed set up in the master bedroom. Even took over some fresh sheets and blankets for you, got it all made up and ready. No other furniture in the place yet—I planned to do that tomorrow, as well.”
“You don’t need to furnish the house, Frankie. That’s asking too much,” Jax said.
“Oh, I won’t be. Not all by myself. Your parents have some things in storage, and several others around town have items they want to contribute. I mean, you’ll want your own things once you decide to make it your permanent home, but these will do for your two-week trial period,” Frankie said with a smile, as if she knew damn well Jax would be staying.
“You should stay with us tonight, hon,” Mariah said. “It’s not safe to be in that house all alone.”
Jax put a hand over her mother’s on the table. “It’ll be an adventure. Like camping out when we were kids.”
“Carrie always hated it,” Mariah said softly.
“Only because I always managed to find something slimy to put in her sleeping bag before sunup. Frogs, lizards—”
“You were such a brat.” Her mother turned her hand over, closing it around Jax’s.
“I’ll have the fireplace for heat. Dad, you can loan me a couple of your lanterns. It’ll be fun.”
Mariah looked to her husband as if for backup. But Benjamin was studying his daughter and nodding in reluctant approval. “She’s a grown woman, a police officer, Mariah. She’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He nodded, smiling slightly.
The waitress arrived with their drinks and handed them around. Jax twisted the cap off her longneck bottle. Frankie lifted her mug. “Here’s to the newest resident of Blackberry,” she said. “Welcome home, Jax.”
“Welcome home,” her parents echoed.
They clanked their drinks together as the waitress hovered, ready to take their orders.
Driving the dead orderly’s car had become more and more difficult, and finally impossible. The third time River veered off the road, and went skidding through the slush on the shoulder, he’d taken out two mailboxes. At first, he thought he’d hit two human beings. It shook him too much to continue. He didn’t want to kill anyone else. He didn’t want to end up dead himself—not until he found the answers he needed to find, at least.
Besides, he was pretty sure he’d been seen. Another car had passed, heading in the opposite direction, just as he’d lost control that last time. The driver probably called the cops. Probably reported him as a drunk driver. Maybe not.
Didn’t matter. He couldn’t drive anymore.
He steered the car up a side road, where the only other tracks in the snow had been made by a logging truck, by the looks of them. And then he drove until the tires spun in the snow.
After that, he got out and took a look around. His mind kept wandering, but he managed to keep tugging it back on track. He knew where he was. In a tall pine forest outside Blackberry.