“Not bad,” Laurie says over Darcy’s shoulder. “She shoots better than her cousin.”
Despite Laurie’s flightiness, she’s an experienced shooter. Before the divorce, Laurie’s father took her hunting and taught his daughter how to shoot with an old Remington, which she stores in a gun safe in her bedroom.
“I’m not convinced that’s true,” Darcy says, but the corner of her mouth quirks up when Jennifer bounces in excited anticipation for Hunter to shoot. Her kids survived their father’s death and escaped a serial killer. They’re warriors like Darcy. And though Hunter and Jennifer couldn’t be less alike, they’re forever bonded and stick up for each other.
As Darcy returns to the kitchen, she unpacks the last of the groceries and studies the downstairs. The front door is steel and secured by double bolts. The back door is a wooden relic that clatters when the wind blows. A swift kick will snap the lock set and buckle the wood. Hiding from prying eyes and easily breached, the back door is the most likely point of entry for an intruder. The kitchen wall holds two casement windows, too small and cumbersome to bother with. But the living room picture window and the double-hung windows are weak points. As it has since the moment Darcy walked inside Laurie’s house, her mind acts out her reactions to emergency situations. Which rooms offer the best hiding spots in the event of a break-in, and will Laurie have time to hustle the kids outside if Hensel and Darcy can’t hold off their attackers?
Reading Darcy’s thoughts, Laurie shakes her head.
“You’re seeing ghosts, cousin.”
“I don’t want to frighten you,” Darcy says, slamming the pantry door closed. “But there wasn’t one killer in North Carolina. Michael Rivers had two people working for him, and like a communicative disease, those two thugs brought more people into the fold. Kids no older than mine. You can ignore the danger, but I won’t. Agent Hensel isn’t here for his health. He’s concerned and doesn’t want us alone.”
Together at the window, Darcy and Laurie watch Hunter aim the rifle at a tin can on a tree stump. Jennifer bends over with both hands clutched to her ears as Hensel corrects Hunter’s stance and takes a step away. The shot misses the can, but not by much. Hunter wobbles from the kickback but maintains his stance. A natural shooter. Rookie police officers shooting handguns struggle more on their initial shots than Hunter had with a rifle.
“Tell me about your stalker,” Darcy says.
“Again? There isn’t much to add.”
“Humor me. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how unimportant.”
Laurie glances down and picks an invisible piece of lint off her sweatshirt. Darcy knows her cousin is more frightened than she’s letting on.
“A few weeks ago I went for a walk through Cass Park. It’s a walking trail on the edge of town. People take their dogs, and it’s busy all year. I saw a guy about a hundred feet behind me. He was alone, no kid, no pet, but what the hell? I was alone, so who am I to judge? I walked the entire loop. Sometimes I looked back and saw him, other times I didn’t and figured he’d called it a day. But then he appeared again, and I started to get this idea in my head that this was a game for him. Like he wanted to scare me. Yeah, pretty stupid.”
“Not stupid at all. Did you get a good look at the man?”
Laurie chews a nail.
“He never got close enough. The man was tall, and he wore a black coat that fell to his knees.”
“Like a trench coat.”
“Yes, a trench coat. As I came around the backside of the park, I kept worrying I’d turn my head and he’d be right behind me, smiling because he knew he’d caught me. Then I didn’t see him again until the next day when I left work.”
“Are you sure it was the same guy?”
“Definitely. He hung out down the block so I couldn’t see his face, and when I walked toward him, he turned the corner. That was the last I saw of the guy. Darcy, it’s been two weeks. If the man is a stalker, why no contact since?”
The repeated sightings remind Darcy of Amy Yang, the girl Michael Rivers attempted to abduct four years ago. Amy complained of a stalker in Smith Town, North Carolina, and after a quiet period during which Amy didn’t see her stalker, Richard Chaney murdered the girl and left her body on the shores of Darkwater Cove.
“He made contact, Laurie. The painting on your house.” Laurie turns her head away and rubs her hands. “When is the last time you fired the rifle? It wouldn’t hurt to have Eric work with you before he heads back to Quantico. Hell, I’ll show you.”
“I can’t remember the last time I cleaned the Remington.”
Darcy bites her lip. She doesn’t want to be overcritical and treat Laurie like a child, but what is she thinking living five miles outside of town with no way to protect herself?
“Then we’ll pull the Remington out after dinner and ensure it’s in working order.”
Laurie fills a glass of water at the sink and offers it to Darcy. When Darcy declines, Laurie sips from the glass and warms her hands beside the wood stove.
“How’s Jennifer doing after the kidnapping?”
Darcy sinks into the couch cushions and rests her chin on her hand. A chill seeps through the ancient windows and crawls across the floor.
“She’s terrified. Jennifer puts on a nonchalant act, but it shook her up.”
“All the more reason to go back to North Carolina. She needs therapy, Darcy, not a week’s vacation in the boondocks.”
“Who says it will only be a week? Eric needs to go back to work, but I’m staying until we’re sure you’re safe.”
And until Laurie takes the threat seriously, Darcy thinks.
Shaking off the cold, Hensel gestures for Darcy beside the entryway while Jennifer and Hunter climb the stairs. His face twists with concern.
“Jennifer talked to me. What’s this about a man harassing you?”
Interesting that Jennifer won’t express her feelings to Darcy, but she’s fine confiding in a man she barely knows. Darcy tells Hensel about the burly man trailing Jennifer through the store and the ensuing encounter in the parking lot.
“I shouldn’t have pulled a gun.”
“He threatened you, but if he presses charges, it’s your word against his. He didn’t follow you out of town, did he?”
“The guy drove a red Escalade, hard to miss in the mirror. If he followed us, I would have noticed.”
Hensel gives an unconvinced grunt and pulls the curtain back on the window.
“How did they do?” Darcy asks, changing the subject.
“The kids did good for their first time. You sure you haven’t taught Jennifer to shoot?”
Darcy laughs.
“My gun club in North Carolina wouldn’t have been amused if I walked in with my teenage daughter.”
“She handled the weapon once she got past the initial fears, and Hunter looks like he’s been shooting his entire life.”
“That’s good to hear. Thank you for teaching them.”
When night falls, Hensel sleeps on the couch with his Glock beside him, while Darcy, Jennifer, and Hunter share the guest bedroom upstairs at the rear of the house. Laurie’s room sits at the top of the stairs, and she’ll be the first in the line of fire if an attacker makes it past Hensel. A trellis runs outside the guest bedroom. It won’t support their weights during an emergency escape, but a small roof covers the back door. Jumping from the window to the roof is risky, but the option is viable.
The night begins with Darcy focused on Jennifer, but it’s Hunter who draws her worry. He isn’t talking. The doctor warned Darcy Hunter would be groggy. He sustained two concussions after Aaron Torres and his friends attacked him. Hunter needs physical therapy and a good neurologist, and Darcy will find neither in Scarlet River. Sharing the bed with Jennifer, Hunter thumbs through his phone while his sister snores beneath the covers. The screen throws black shadows against the wall. Hunter misses his girlfriend. Despite being Aaron Torres’ sister, Bethany is a positive in Hunter’s life. She draws him out of his shell and makes the boy smile, something he rarely does in Darcy’s presence. But they can’t return to North Carolina. Too many skeletons in the closet, too many people who refuse to accept Hunter’s innocence in the Darkwater Cove murders.