“Chinese, and her name is Amy Yang. She was a fighter, strong. Unlike you. My son is innocent, and the more time you waste blaming him instead of helping the police search for the real killer—”
“The police arrested your son. I saw them handcuff the boy and take him away.”
“And they let him go.”
“Only because you got that lawyer from Smith Town. That Appleton.” Gibbons spits the name. “Assault and battery, rape, dope dealing, murder. It doesn’t matter. If you have money, Appleton will keep you out of jail. Just like he did that crook you took into your bed.”
Darcy bumps chests with Gibbons and backs him against the window. A mannequin wearing a bathing suit and sunglasses looks down on Gibbons from behind the glass. Anger colors his cheeks, and he flinches as though he wants to shove her back.
“Try it, Gibbons.”
When he reads the animosity in her eyes, he scurries out of the storefront, arms pinwheeling.
“Move, Ms. Gellar,” he says as he backs away down the sidewalk. “The entire village knows what your boy did. Don’t think your neighbors won’t make things right.”
“Is that a threat?”
Gibbons turns and flees. He disappears into the alley before Darcy decides if she should pursue.
She falls back against the glass and bangs the back of her head against the window in frustration. Hunter is right. Darcy forced her family to move to Genoa Cove and invited hell into their lives. Bullies at school, a disturbed ex-cop living under their roof, Amy’s death, and a maniac trying to kill her. Her appetite gone, Darcy pulls the keys from her pocket and runs to the funeral home’s parking lot.
The faster she gets home, the sooner she can get her family away from Darkwater Cove.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jennifer isn’t happy when Darcy picks her up at Kaitlyn’s, but the explosion doesn’t occur until Darcy tells her they’re moving.
“Just when I start to make friends, and now you’re moving us again? You’re ruining our lives.”
“I’m trying to save our lives,” Darcy says over her shoulder as she turns into their neighborhood.
Lights shine from her neighbors’ homes, the walkways bathed by outdoor floodlights. They’re afraid Hunter will murder them in their sleep tonight.
Jennifer is screaming when Darcy stops the car in the driveway. Darcy wants to wheel around and scream back at her daughter, but she bites her tongue. Hunter sits on the couch. The television is on, but he’s not watching, just staring at the moving pictures, not comprehending. And he’s alone.
“Hunter, where’s Squiggs?”
Hunter shifts on the couch and takes his feet off the coffee table.
“He took off. Probably had better things to do then watch me pop Ibuprofen.”
“Pack a bag. We’re getting out of here.”
Hunter twists around and glares at Darcy.
“Going where?”
Darcy releases a held breath.
“I don’t know. A hotel, maybe cousin Laurie’s house.”
“Laurie lives in Georgia.”
“Exactly. The farther away from Genoa Cove, the better.”
Hunter grits his teeth when he stands, but he maintains his balance. Jennifer’s arms are folded, her bag at her feet, eyes ringed in red from the latest outburst.
“What’s your problem?” Hunter asks his sister.
She huffs and stomps to her bedroom.
“Nothing except for Mom destroying my life again.”
Jennifer grips the doorknob, intending to slam the bedroom door with teeth-rattling force.
The lights flicker.
Darcy peers at the recessed lights as they dim and pulse. A whirring, mechanical noise comes from outside. The generator.
And another sound. Someone is in the backyard.
“Stay away from the windows,” Darcy orders as she pulls the curtains shut.
Jennifer creeps into the living room, her anger forgotten. Genuine terror masks the girl’s face. She moves beside Hunter, who protectively puts an arm around her shoulder.
Pulling his sister with him, Hunter follows Darcy to the kitchen.
“Mom, is someone outside?”
“I’m checking the cameras.”
But when she calls the security cameras up on the laptop, a series of blank windows fill the screen. Unwilling to accept the system failed again, she clicks the mouse and jams her finger down on the escape key. Nothing. She’s blind to the night.
“Call 9-1-1,” Jennifer says, her face buried against Hunter’s chest.
Darcy’s jacket lifts when she reaches for her phone, revealing the holstered Glock-22. Both kids take a step backward as she removes the weapon and makes a beeline for the deck door. She clicks the backyard floodlight on, and for a moment, she swears a shadow darts off the corner of the house.
Straining to see into the dark, she dials the police. A squad car is on the way. Her next call is to Gilmore Security Systems. The same woman who treated her rudely last time takes her information. Since Darcy has already called the police, there’s nothing more the woman can do, but she promises their technology specialists will be in touch first thing in the morning. A lot of good that will do Darcy. She plans to be in Georgia before sunrise.
The first siren begins seconds later. Another echoes the call from the opposite end of the village.
“Into the hallway,” Darcy says.
Neither Hunter nor Jennifer protest. Both are too scared to question Darcy. This is the safest area in the house, Darcy thinks. No windows, no entry points or lines of sight from the yard. She’ll defend her family until the police arrive. The wait isn’t long.
Julian is the first on scene as Darcy watches through the peephole. Officer Faust accompanies Julian again, and both keep their hands near their weapons as they approach the door. The second cruiser containing Detective Ames and another officer pulls in front of the curb. Ames takes charge and directs Julian and Faust to search the property.
When Darcy opens the door, Ames surveys the house over her shoulder as though he expects someone besides her children. His gaze halts on Hunter, then swings into the living room and kitchen.
“Everybody okay, Ms. Gellar?”
“For now.” The dark silhouettes of her neighbors line the street, curious and watching. If the police weren’t here, Darcy doesn’t trust how she’d react to their accusatory stares. “Would you like to come inside, Detective?”
He scowls at her sarcasm and follows her into the living room where she recounts the power dimming and generator turning on.
“But you didn’t see or hear anyone outside?”
She swallows a nasty retort.
“I saw something…a shadow, I think.”
Ames breathes irritatingly through his nose.
“Were you home all evening, Ms. Gellar?”
“No. I was in Smith Town for Amy Yang’s calling hours.”
“But your children were alone in the house.”
The cock to Ames’ eyebrow tells Darcy her motivations don’t add up. Why leave her family alone with a serial killer in Genoa Cove?
“My daughter visited another girl’s house, and Hunter wasn’t alone. His friend stayed with him.”
Ames scribbles the information and glances at Hunter.
“Does your friend have a name?”
Hunter meets Darcy’s eyes, and Darcy nods for him to continue.
“Benny Chilton, Squiggs,” Hunter says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Chilton was here.”
The name rolls off Ames’ tongue with distaste. Darcy wonders how many times Chilton’s name comes up during drug investigations at Genoa Cove High School.