Jennifer sits on the end of her bed when Darcy enters the room. Even during the day her room is gloomy. With night settling over the cove, Darcy can barely discern Jennifer’s dresser, where the new photo of Amy leans in a wooden frame that says Friends Forever across the bottom. A part of Darcy’s heart breaks. Clothes litter the floor and hang off the bed. Jennifer needs to clean her room, but now is not the time to argue. Darcy recognizes depression. She’s looking into a mirror and reliving the last three years of her life.
“How are you doing with all of this?” Darcy asks, brushing Jennifer’s hair with her hand.
“Tell me the truth. Are we moving again? I don’t want to go to Georgia.”
Darcy sits beside Jennifer and pulls her daughter close.
“It’s not safe here, Jennifer, and half the village wants to hang Hunter.”
“But the police believe Hunter now, and you said the FBI would catch the killer.”
“Agent Hensel was my partner. He’s the best investigator I worked with.”
Jennifer picks the lint off her sweatpants.
“Then he’ll catch the guy, and when the police arrest the killer, everyone will know Hunter is innocent.”
“I hope so, hon, but some people can’t admit when they’re wrong or change their opinion. What if somebody tries to hurt your brother because they think he got away with murder?”
“Not everyone is like Aaron Torres, Mom.”
“I can name at least three boys who agree with Aaron.”
“They’re football assholes. If the police do their job and put Aaron back in jail, he won’t be a threat anymore.”
Darcy’s eyes wander to the door when Hunter leaves his room. Darcy wants to tell Jennifer everything will be okay, but she knows better. Will the GCPD push the assault charges against Aaron? The police won’t take Hunter’s concussion as seriously as they might a broken bone or stab wound. The Torres’ lawyer will ensure the assault is a misdemeanor. At most, the court will sentence Aaron to six months in county lockup. Good behavior will reduce the length of the sentence. And that’s if the court doesn’t believe Aaron’s assertion, which his friends back up, that Hunter started the fight and Aaron defended himself.
She does her best to put Jennifer at ease but knows her daughter can smell a lie. Darcy will have to uproot her family. Again. And Darkwater Cove will leave new nightmares imprinted on their memories. But they can’t run forever.
When Darcy leaves the bedroom, Jennifer is curled under the covers with a pillow over her head. A teen movie is on the television, the light from the screen drawing long shadows that lunge off the walls.
In the living room, Darcy resumes her vigil. The Kemps walk their terrier, and a light over the garage illuminates Mr. Gibbons’ driveway. Otherwise, the neighborhood is quiet. Feeling her eyelids droop, Darcy makes a pot of coffee and dials Laurie’s number in Georgia.
Her cousin answers on the first ring. Darcy pictures Laurie, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, ripped jeans painted on. She’s surprised Laurie isn’t out at this hour.
“That’s crazy,” Laurie says, who follows the Genoa Cove news. “You know why they haven’t caught the killer, right?”
“No.”
“Because the FBI lost their best agent three years ago. You could come stay with me. The kids would like it down here. Lots of hiking trails and kayaking, and we’ve got another month of decent weather before the winter blahs set in.”
“I can’t picture Jennifer in a kayak. The paddles might ruin her nails. Hunter maybe.”
“There’s a mall sixty minutes up the road if she needs to invoke her inner shopper.”
“Sounds great, but I can’t take you up on it just yet. Perhaps soon.”
“Is it true what the news says? The killer is copying that Michael Rivers psycho you caught?”
The motor of a big truck rumbles past the house. Darcy rushes to the window as the burning glow of taillights swing around the corner.
“You there, Darcy?”
“I’m here. Someone drove past the house.”
“Getting a little paranoid, aren’t we? I’m one to talk. Some creeper followed me through the park last week. I thought I ditched him, but I swear I saw the same guy outside work the next day.”
Darcy paces the floor.
“Wait, did you say someone is stalking you?”
“Relax, cousin. It was probably nothing. Just some guy who wanted my number and chickened out.”
“Laurie, you need to take this seriously. If a guy is stalking you, call the police.”
“You worry too much. Hey, I swear I’ll call the cops if I see him again. But I’m telling you, he’s just a loser looking for a date.”
Another vehicle turns into the neighborhood. Bass thumps from the speakers as it draws nearer.
“I gotta go, Laurie. Remember what I said. Call the police if you see him again.”
Laurie says goodbye as Darcy races back to the window. The black sedan stops halfway up the street, the motor revving, headlights off.
Go away, she whispers. But the car moves closer, creeping along the rows of mailboxes. When it passes beneath a streetlight, she recognizes Aaron Torres’ sedan. Shutting the curtains, she stands with her back to the wall, heart racing. In the kitchen, she watches the car exit one camera view and enter another.
Issuing a silent prayer Hunter wears his earbuds and doesn’t notice the approaching vehicle, Darcy opens the sliding glass door and steps into the night. The music is louder outside. Each drum thump reverberates through her teeth and skitters down her neck.
She rounds the house, sliding along the outer wall. Dew slicks her sneakers and chills her feet, and her breath forms condensation clouds. The black sedan is even with the house when she reaches the corner. Using the Prius as a screen, she rushes to the rear bumper, staying low.
Torres stops. He’s blocking the driveway.
Darcy explodes out of her crouch and gives the boy no time to react. He looks up at her with wide eyes through the driver side window as she fixes the Glock on his forehead. Nobody rides with him. She motions with her free arm for him to lower the window.
He looks too scared to move.
She gestures with the gun, and the window lowers.
“You looking for Hunter, Aaron?”
“Put that thing away. Are you crazy, lady?”
“Crazy enough to put a bullet in your head if you hurt one of my children.”
“You shouldn’t make threats. My parents will sue the hell out of you.”
“Why stop there? Call the police, Aaron. You’re not supposed to be anywhere near our house, so they’ll love to hear you blocked my driveway. And they don’t have to take my word for it because you’re on camera.” Darcy points at the security cameras along the front of the house. “Wave and say hello.”
The cameras startle the boy.
“Oh, come on, Aaron. You knew they were there. The lawyer must have told you after we caught you vandalizing my car.”
“I don’t give a shit about the cameras. I haven’t done anything. But you’re the one who’ll get arrested when the police see you aiming a gun at me.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take. But you’ll have to report me, Aaron. Be sure to let the police know you paid us another visit.”
“Fuck off, you stupid whore.”
Darcy snickers and leans against the door. When he shifts into drive, she reaches through the window and snatches him by the shirt collar. She taps the gun against the sill.
“Let me make myself clear. If I catch you near my kids or hanging around my property, I’ll put an end to your sorry existence. Do we have an understanding, Aaron?”