Telling Tales

was no more than a hundred yards away-usually watching it roll by made her feel a little more peaceful than she felt now.

There was no peace inside her tonight.

What was going on?

Darci closed her burning eyes.

There were no answers in the river. No answers inside her throbbing head either.

Two women dead.

And her last words spoken to both of them had been in anger.

It was with a heavy heart that she finally fell asleep, hours later.

***

Restlessness plagued the small town of Vevey, Indiana over the following weeks.

Carrie was laid to rest, and then Beth, two days later. Carrie’s house was sitting empty, but already people from the State Registry were in town making noises about trying to get Beth’s house.

Darci couldn’t quite believe it. The lady hadn’t even been resting a week when the first call came, from what she could tell.

Now they had people in town, all but ambushing anybody who so much as walked by. But Kellan had finally put a stop to it when he strode up to the small group of people who had practically camped in front of it. Britt had gone into great detail about it, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Well, sir, you see, we’re from the Historical Society and this house is of great interest to us-”

Kellan had cut off the pompous, florid-faced geek of a man who’d spoken with a thick Southern drawl. Darci had dealt with that man when he had come into the gallery and she had wondered if maybe some people took historical reenactments just a little too much to heart.

From what Britt had repeated, Kellan had interrupted him by saying, “It’s of more importance to me. A lady was murdered there and until I’ve decided I’m done with it, nobody can do a thing with it anyway. Now stop badgering everybody who lives here before I get annoyed. Do any of you have homes? Jobs? You’ve been here nearly two weeks, almost around the clock and the house isn’t even for sale.”

“Now see here-”

Kellan had lifted a straight auburn brow, and Britt’s imitation of him had Darci giggling. Britt said, “The guy shut the hell up. They cleared off the street although they passed out their cards and some of them offered money to the neighbors to contact them if so much as a For Sale sign went up.”

Darci scowled. “Hell, I’m tempted to buy the house to keep those idiots from getting it,” she said. “He came into the gallery. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bigger idiot in my life.”

“Well, I have,” Britt murmured, her eyes rolling. “He’s on his way in here.” She ducked behind the counter and slid into the back room as the door opened. Bryce Bishop came in, his dark eyes roaming over Darci’s face as he handed over a handful of mail.

“This came to Dark Destinies instead of here,” Bryce said, dumping the pile on the counter, missing Darci’s outstretched hand like he hadn’t even seen it. “You all getting back in the swing of things?”

Darci lifted a brow. “We never got out.” Raising her voice, she called out, “Becka!”

Bryce looked toward the beaded curtain that hung over the door to the private part of the gallery, a small smirk on his mouth. “Oh, yeah. Guess y’all didn’t see much point taking time off to mourn some old friends.”

Darci coolly said, “If they had been friends, that would have been different. Lives violently lost will always be mourned. But prostrating myself on the sidewalk doesn’t change anything.”

One of the more vocal ladies who had art displayed at Dark Destinies had done just that-dropped to the ground wailing, tears running down her face as she screamed and lamented as Carrie’s casket was carried out. Her miniskirt had revealed her lace thong to everybody around.

And she’d repeated the performance the next day.

Bryce snickered. “No. That’s true. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing you flash some skin,” he said, his eyes dropping and lingering on her neckline.

Becka came through the curtain, followed by Brittney, and when she saw Bryce, her mouth twisted down in a frown. Ignoring him, she looked at Darci, impatience in her eyes. “What?”

Darci reached for the pile of mail and held it out to Becka. “You really do need to make that call to the post office. Destinies received some of our mail again.”

Becka rolled her eyes and said, “All right…all right. I’ll go call them now.” Without even speaking to Bryce, she turned around and moved back through the curtain.

“Well, isn’t she in a good mood,” Bryce smirked.

Flashing him a brittle smile, Darci said, “Hmm. Thanks for the mail. You can go now.” Dismissing him, she looked back at Brittney and said, “So has there been anything new?”

Britt made a noncommittal response, not wanting to talk in front of Bryce, Darci guessed.

The silence stretched out for a moment while Bryce’s eyes lingered on her. Then he murmured, “Be seeing you around, sweet thing.”

As the door closed behind him, she whispered, “I certainly hope not.”

“That guy is such a jerk,” Britt muttered as she came around the corner. “How many times has that place gotten your mail?”

“Three that I know.” Lifting her shoulder in a shrug, she said, “Probably nothing to it.”

“Complained?”

“Becka has to,” Darci said. “I tried. They took the information down, but since I’m not the owner, they aren’t going to take me too seriously. Becka needs to talk to them, and I’ve reminded her. A number of times. Today was probably the tenth. Dunno if she’s listening to me.”

“Hmmm…” Britt said, that noncommittal sound that could say everything and nothing. Then she waggled her eyebrows at Darci, her voice teasing as she said, “Soooo…are you aware of the fact that the Sheriff can’t keep his eyes off of you?”

Darci’s hands stilled and she froze. Studying Britt through the veil of her lashes, she asked, “What?”

Britt smiled a cool little cat’s smile. “He’s got the hots for you. I can tell. And you watch him like he’s a hot fudge sundae and you’ve been on a six-month carb diet.” Fluttering her lashes, Britt said, “Too bad you’re a suspect.”

“You bitch,” Darci said, groaning and falling back against the wall behind her. That was so not what she needed to hear-not when she had been fantasizing about the sexy sheriff for years, ever since she’d moved to Vevey.

Britt laughed. “Well, it’s not like it’s a forever thing. And if it was such a serious thing, you could have done something about it before now. And maybe you’re not really a suspect. Maybe he’s already found the person,” she offered, trying to be helpful. “Maybe he’s arresting him even now. Then you two can celebrate with dinner and an all-night fuck fest.”

With a narrow glance, Darci muttered, “You are messed up.”

With a snicker, Britt said, “Well, maybe you should go see a movie first.”

They both jumped when Becka hollered out from the back, “Forget the movie. Just get laid.”

Britt and Darci looked at each other and started to giggle.

Bryce Bishop had his eyes on that little bitch. Staring down her nose at people, twitching that tight little ass of hers and then expecting people not to comment. Hell, she was sharing it with half the men in town-he’d be damned if he was going to miss out.

He sauntered into his house and came up short when he caught sight of a familiar head bent over the newspaper spread out on his table. The house had been picked up, too. And unless he was mistaken, there were cookies in the oven.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he snapped, kicking his shoes off and tossing his wallet down.

“Just wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, well, have you forgotten? I kicked your ass out a long time ago,” he reminded her.