“Benny Chilton. He’s a senior.”
“Chilton.”
“Mom, the water is boiling over.”
The hiss of water splashing onto flame brings Darcy’s head around.
“Oh, shit.”
She lowers the heat and stirs, calming the roiling water. Satisfied, she dumps the pasta into the pot.
“So who wrote the letter, Jennifer?”
Jennifer pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Aaron Torres. He’s on the team with Hunter.”
“Torres. Where have I heard that name?”
Jennifer swipes through her phone and sets it on the table as though afraid her social contacts can hear.
“As in Bethany Torres.”
The pretty girl she met at Antonia’s.
“Her brother, I take it.”
“Her older brother, yeah. He’s looking out for Bethany and thinks Hunter is bad news.”
“Pot calling the kettle black, in my opinion.”
“Don’t call the police back, okay? Let me talk to Aaron first.”
“I don’t want you talking to this Aaron Torres. And how did you know about the police?”
“I saw them through the window, duh. That wasn’t a good look, Mom. If the cops show up at school and start asking members of the football team questions, it could get a lot worse for Hunter.”
Sweat dripping off her brow, Darcy kneels in front of Jennifer.
“What do you mean it could get worse?”
“Just let me talk to Aaron. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
CHAPTER SIX
Hunter lingers in the kitchen after washing the plates, then he leans against the hallway wall, checking his messages. Jennifer locks herself in her room, hopefully not informing half the world about the letter before Darcy decides the best way to proceed.
Inside her bedroom, Darcy sips from a cup of calming tea as the clock ticks past sunset. From her nightstand, she grabs the anti-anxiety pills and rolls the bottle in her hand. Just one to take the edge off, and then none for the rest of the week. She glances at the window. The reflected face belongs to a liar.
A voice in her head urges her to check on Amy and wonders if Bronson followed through on his promise to call his friends at the Smith Town Police Department.
Hunter looks up when Darcy opens her door.
“Benny seems like a nice boy.”
Hunter halts in place.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, he’s been driving you home, right?”
“Just a few times.”
“How did you meet?”
Hunter crosses his arms.
“Why the interrogation? We went to a concert together last month, that’s all. He’s a good guy.”
“Don’t get excited, Hunter. I’m just asking how you came to be friends. Maybe you’d like to invite him to dinner some night.”
He snickers.
“I doubt he’d be into that scene. Especially if everyone is judging him.”
“It might be nice.”
“Stop watching everything I do. I’m not one of your criminals.”
Hunter cracks open a Coke and stalks into his room. Darcy braces for the door to slam, but it drifts shut. Still, she hears the lock twist.
That went well.
Darcy sips her tea and pulls back when the heat singes her lips. In the kitchen, night pours against the casement window. She checks the locks and peeks outside, but it’s impossible to see with the lights on.
At that moment, it occurs to Darcy someone could be staring at her from the yard. The grinning face of a lunatic pressed close to the glass.
She clicks the light off and exhales. The yard is empty, tall grass waving with the night breeze outside the vacant two-story bordering the ranch. The moon is full, its face screaming over the cove and tinting everything it touches in a deathly silver.
Amy.
Grabbing her phone, she dials the girl’s number. The phone doesn’t ring. She tries again and gets the same result.
Damn phone. It’s three years old and failing fast.
A moment later she’s at Hunter’s door. She knocks softly and receives no reply.
“Hey, Hunter, can I borrow your phone for a second?”
It takes several seconds before she hears the springs squeak as he climbs off his bed. The knob twists and the locking mechanism pops open. He leans in the doorway, his face suspicious.
“What’s wrong with yours?”
“It works when it feels like it, and I guess it decided not to tonight. I want to check on a friend who’s having trouble with a guy. It won’t be a second.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. But the battery is toast. Either plug it in or make the call before it dies.”
“Thanks.”
He starts to shut the door, and she blocks it with her palm.
“Come on, Hunter. I didn’t mean to pry. I meant what I said about inviting your friends to dinner some night. It won’t be creepy. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
This elicits a small grin, a victory in Darcy’s eyes. She waits until she’s inside the kitchen before calling, not wanting her children to hear the Full Moon Killer’s name. Though the call goes through, it rings several times and goes to voice-mail. Her anxiety rising, she dials again.
“Hello?”
“Amy, thank goodness. Is everything okay?”
“Sorry, I was checking around the house. I put new locks on the windows like you suggested, and I’ve got a guy coming by tomorrow to paint over that damn…face. You must think I completely lost it. I didn’t mean to freak you out this morning.”
“You’re being cautious. I’d react the same way if I was in your position. But please understand Michael Rivers can’t hurt anyone, not me, not you, and he’ll never get out of prison.”
“Then who painted his symbol on my house?”
Darcy lifts herself up and sits on the kitchen counter, feet dangling above the floor.
“I don’t wish to downplay what you’re going through, but I’m starting to think someone is playing a cruel joke on you. Are you certain you haven’t confided in anyone about the abduction attempt?”
“Nobody knows except the police and my parents, and I’m sure my parents wouldn’t tell anybody.”
“Someone talked, and the wrong person found out and is trying to frighten you.”
Amy’s voice trembles.
“He’s doing a damn good job.”
“Serial killers fascinate the public,” Darcy says, picking at a nail. “To some people, it’s like a movie. They’re bored, and I suppose a part of them wishes their town turned into a Friday the 13th movie. The media won’t leave me alone, and there isn’t a month that goes by without someone offering me a book deal.”
“So what do you think I should do?”
“Exactly what you’re doing. Keep the house locked and watch your back. What did the police say?”
Amy gives a mirthless chuckle.
“Not much. To them, it’s just graffiti, something they see all the time.”
“And you told them about the man following you and the symbol’s meaning?”
“Yes, I’m an open book now. They’re probably at the station laughing about the crazy Asian girl who thinks a ghost is chasing her. Nothing they can do when I haven’t seen the man’s face.”
Darcy hops off the counter and paces the kitchen.
“A friend of mine retired from the Genoa Cove force a few years ago. He teaches my self-defense class, which is another thing you should consider. Bronson knows Smith Town cops and promised to call them, so don’t be surprised if you see a cruiser in your neighborhood checking on the house.”
Amy tries to reply when Hunter’s phone beeps. The battery is close to zero.