He places the box to his ear.
“I don’t think you’re insane, Ms. Gellar.”
“No, but you think I raised a murderer.”
Darcy’s skin crawls. The killer broke into her house and bypassed the security system. Ames sets the box aside and picks up his phone. A moment later, a thin man wearing a CSI windbreaker retrieves the unknown item.
“You have a cousin in Georgia. Laurie?”
Darcy’s back stiffens.
“How did you know that?”
The detective steeples his fingers and rests his elbows on the desk.
“I put myself in your shoes. Where would I go if my kid got into trouble and my family was in danger?”
“We are in danger, Detective.”
“Which is why I’m asking you not to run. Leave Genoa Cove, and I can’t protect you.”
“You’re doing a helluva job protecting us now. The killer painted his signature on my house, our friend is dead because the police targeted the wrong suspect, and my son spent a night in the hospital with a brain bleed and a concussion. And now my neighbors are harassing us. What are you doing to keep my family safe?”
Ames squints at Darcy.
“Who is harassing you?”
Darcy recounts Gibbons following her through Smith Town.
“He made it clear Genoa Cove residents wouldn’t let Hunter get away with murder. They’ve convicted him without a trial. Who knows how far they will go?”
“I’ll talk to Gibbons.” Noting the incredulous expression on her face, Ames raises his hands. “You worked for the FBI and understand I have no grounds to arrest Gibbons. But having the police show up on your doorstep adjusts your attitude. In the future, I suggest you don’t go anywhere alone.”
“I promise I won’t go anywhere unarmed.”
He clears his throat and drums his fingers on the desk.
“Regarding what happened to Hunter…” Ames opens his desk drawer and studies a sheet of paper. “Aaron Torres is out on bail.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. When did you release him?”
“Last evening.”
“So he spent what—a few hours in jail?”
“We’re monitoring Mr. Torres, but I wanted you to know.”
“Aaron was out in time to vandalize our house last night.”
“Unlikely he’d take that risk, considering the scrutiny he’s under.”
“And if I see Torres and his running mates drive past my house…”
“You’re to call us immediately. But he won’t get away with what he did to Hunter. He’ll stand trial, and so will his friends.”
Ames’ assurance rings hollow, and it takes less than an hour for the harassment to begin again. Darcy turns into her driveway in time to catch Eric Hensel wrap his arms around Hunter on the front lawn. He holds Hunter from running off as Darcy screeches the tires and leaps from the car.
“Hunter? What’s wrong?”
The boy’s earbuds crank a speed-metal beat, his face twisted. A killer’s face.
“I don’t know this guy. Tell him to let go of me!”
“Easy, Hunter,” Hensel says. Though the FBI agent is slight of build, his arms ripple with muscle. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
Hunter fights until Darcy grips his arms. She barely recognizes her son. Finally, the boy collapses in Hensel’s grip.
“They’re gonna hurt Bethany,” he says, his head hanging, chin against his chest.
Darcy lifts his chin.
“Who? Who’s going to hurt Bethany?”
One arm grasping Hunter, more to keep the boy from falling than holding him back, Hensel hands Hunter’s phone to Darcy. The text came from an anonymous number, but Darcy is certain Aaron Torres sent the message.
If she is too stupid to stay away from you, she’s next.
“I’ll kill him!” Hunter screams, fury lending him the strength to fight again. It takes both Hensel and Darcy to stop the boy. “I swear to God I’ll tear him apart.”
“Get him inside,” Darcy says, and together with Hensel, they drag Hunter to the door.
One last glance over her shoulder confirms what Darcy suspected. Gibbons is on his front lawn watching. And he’s recording Hunter’s outburst with his phone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Darcy needs to get Hunter under control.
Ten minutes pass before Hunter’s fire smolders and Darcy trusts he won’t hurt Aaron Torres. Yet she reads his eyes and fears the worst is to come.
While Jennifer and Hunter whisper in the hallway, Darcy confers with Hensel in the kitchen. Hensel sees no point in tracing the message. Aaron is disturbed and violent, but he isn’t stupid enough to send a threatening message with his own phone.
“I need to get back to my partner,” Hensel says, pulling the car keys from his pocket. “Hunter seems okay now. Will you call me as soon as you hear anything?”
“I will. Stay in touch, Eric.”
To Darcy’s surprise, Julian, the last person she wants to deal with, climbs out of a vehicle in front of the house. Did Hensel or Jennifer call him? Then Darcy remembers Gibbons capturing Hunter’s explosion on video. Once Julian sees the footage, he’ll take Hunter away.
“We agreed not to call the police,” Darcy says, swiping the curtains closed.
Jennifer looks at Darcy and lifts her shoulders while Hunter buries his face in his hands, resigned. Darcy groans as Julian walks up the driveway. Gibbons yells to the officer, but Julian waves him off and continues to the door. Dressed in blue jeans and an unbuttoned plaid shirt over a gray athletic t-shirt, Julian wears civilian clothing. The vehicle parked at the curb is a Dodge Charger, not a GCPD cruiser. Darcy yanks the door open and stares bullets into Julian.
“What?”
“I’d like to talk to you, if you’ll give me the chance.”
Darcy folds her arms and blocks the doorway.
“Whatever Gibbons told you, Hunter became angry because Aaron sent another harassing message, this time threatening his own sister. My son did nothing wrong.”
Julian raises two placating hands.
“I’m not here about Hunter, but if Aaron Torres is bullying your son again, I’ll look at the message.” She braces her arms against the jamb, daring Julian to walk past. “Ms. Gellar, please. We got off on the wrong foot.”
“Why should I let you inside my house? The last time I trusted an officer from your department, Detective Ames tried to pin Becca Crowley’s death on my son.”
“You don’t have to let me inside. We can talk outside, if you prefer.” When she refuses to budge, Julian looks back at Gibbons, who gives up and sulks back to his house. “I know Hunter didn’t kill those girls, and Ames knows it too. Please, let me help.”
Darcy chews her lip, then she waves him through the door. When Julian crosses the border into enemy territory, Jennifer turns her back on him. Hunter snatches his phone off the table and heads toward his bedroom.
“Not so fast,” Darcy says, holding out her hand. Hunter mutters something under his breath and gives her the phone.
In the kitchen, Darcy slides the deck door open for Julian.
“Sit on the deck. I’m pouring myself an iced tea. I’ve got another glass if you’re thirsty.”
“No, I won’t take up your time.”
Darcy shuts the door after he leans back in one of the Adirondack chairs. He glances back at the house, suspecting she locked him out. Bracing herself for the encounter with Julian, Darcy craves something stronger than tea. She settles for the cold drink, to which she adds two ice cubes. On the deck, she shifts her chair away from his and maintains a cold distance.
He stares out at the yard. When his eyes run along the house, they stop on the gruesome smile leering at them on the wall.