Safe From the Dark (20 page)

Candace
hadn’t changed in thirty years. She was still solid as a rock, focused on home,
him, and keeping the Mayor’s Office running smoothly, as she had for Hank
Daniels for decades. Alan liked to tease her that she saw more of her “work
husband” than she did of him, and that maybe he and Martha Daniels should start
a widows club. She took it good-naturedly, but he’d stopped teasing when Hank
and Martha were killed. Alan was as horrified as his wife by the loss – they’d
been good friends, and since then, Alan had felt Candace retreating into
herself, though she looked after Colin as though he were her own.

This
recent business with a supposed stalker and Deirdre Small’s death was
upsetting, and Candace had been ruffled, which was unlike her.

“It’s
been nice having you home,” he ventured, “even if it’s for the wrong reasons.”

“Colin
and Tom are worried that that lunatic will come after me next, which is
nonsense.”

“They
want you safe, and I have to agree with them on that point.”

“Well,
I’m not going to let some unhinged person prevent me from living my life.”

She
put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and reached for her purse.

“Are
you sure you don’t want to cancel, dear? It might not be safe.”

Candace
was dismissive as she pulled on her coat.

“The
film will only be playing for one more week, so this might be my only chance. Sure
you won’t join me?”

They
exchanged a smile. It was a long-standing joke between them. Candace’s year
abroad had left her with a great love of foreign film, and one of the few
indulgences Alan’s wife permitted herself was a night at the local art house. If
there wasn’t an explosion or a car chase, Alan wasn’t interested.

“You
go on ahead. I’m going to watch the game.”

He
pulled himself to his feet and she stopped him in the doorway with a gentle
kiss on the cheek.

“What
was that for?” he asked, surprised. Candace wasn’t prone to spontaneous bursts
of affection. They hadn’t slept in the same bed in years.

“You’re
a good husband and a good man. With everything that’s been going on, I wanted
to make sure you knew that.”

Alan
squeezed her hand.

“Sure
you don’t want to take someone with you? I don’t like the idea of you in the
theater alone.”

“There
will be tons of people there, I’ll be perfectly safe, Alan.”

“You
said it was a French film? It’ll be you and the projectionist,” he teased.

“Oh,
you,” she pouted, with a mock glare.

“Call
if you’re going to be late,” he instructed and she nodded.

“I
will.”

THE
ASHER CABIN WAS dark, meaning that Evie was still in town. Colin hopped out of
Zeke’s truck, flicking on a powerful flashlight as Zeke did the same.

“I
don’t think we should be here, Mr. Daniels, sir. Deputy Asher was pretty clear
– ”

“She’s
not going to find out, Zeke.” Colin’s voice was firm, which seemed to calm the
nervous young deputy, because he nodded. “This is only going to take a couple
of minutes.”

Colin
stepped over to the house, shining the beam up to the porch.

The
red spray painted letters were obscene, stretching the length of the porch,
over the front windows and door, and Colin felt a wave of nausea and anger.

“Stand
over there, Zeke, see if you can light up the whole thing.”

The
deputy did as he was told, illuminating the harsh statement as Colin took
pictures with his camera phone, making sure to get the curves of the letters and
the spaces between them. They did look familiar, but he’d need to study them in
more detail. This might be a fool’s errand. He wasn’t even sure that the
writing on the wall, so to speak, could offer any real clues about the culprit,
but surely there must be some similarities in style – something about the way
the “T” was crossed and the lower curve of the “S” triggered a warning bell in
Colin’s brain. He tried to pinpoint what it was that left him uneasy, but the
realization remained annoyingly elusive.

After
a dozen pictures, Colin signaled to Zeke.

“Let’s
get out of here. And make sure that someone comes by tomorrow to clean this up.
It’s a disgrace.”

“Yes,
sir.”

On
the short drive back to the house, Colin examined the photos on his phone.

“Zeke,
where are those letters? The hate mail that came into the office.”

“Sheriff
Arnetto has them down at the station.”

Which
meant that Colin was not getting his hands on them any time soon. Evie would
explode if she thought he was investigating any angle of the case on his own.

Hell,
she’ll shoot you for leaving the house, Colin.

Frowning,
Colin considered his options. He needed to see those letters, but it was
doubtful that Tony or Evie would let him just waltz in and take them, no matter
how logical his reasoning.

Candace.

Colin
smiled. Candace never let a piece of paper enter the office without making a
copy or taking a digital print. She was meticulous and thorough, and he could
just picture her disgust as she photocopied those letters. But he had no doubt
in his mind that copies existed, and that meant that he could get his hands on
them with just a little bit of subterfuge.

Behind
the wheel, Zeke yawned. Colin felt pity for the poor kid – he’d been everywhere
at once, guarding the house, helping with the investigation, preparing for the
upcoming Harvest Festival. The kid looked ready to drop. It wouldn’t be
difficult to sneak past him and the other guards – Colin still had a few tricks
up his sleeve. He’d get what he needed from Candace’s house, and be back before
Evie returned for the night.

No
problem.

DREYER
MORTON ROLLED OFF of Candace Wilkinson, panting, as she calmly sat up and
reached for her dress. He leaned back against the pillows and scooped up his
pipe and lighter on the night stand.

“That’s
a filthy habit, Dreyer,” Candace remarked, and he watched in fascination as she
swiftly groomed herself, erasing all traces of their tryst as though it had
never happened.

“I’m
old,” he insisted, “Indulge me.”

“You’re
not that old, and if you keep smoking that disgusting thing, you’re not going
to get much older.”

Dreyer
puffed away, and Candace rolled her eyes.

“Are
you sure you can’t stay? Have a drink?”

“Alan
will wait up. I’ve already been away too long, and he worries.”

“He’s
a good man.”

“Yes,
he is.”

Dreyer
had been sleeping with Candace for ten years now, since his wife had passed,
and she never stayed longer than their mutual passion demanded. It was a
convenient arrangement for both of them, and neither one had any desire for
anything more – Candace would find a romance both distasteful and unseemly. In
many ways, she was a cold woman, but in bed, well, he had no complaints.

“That
new deputy is something else. Let’s hope she catches the killer before Colin
manages to get himself killed.”

Candace
froze.

“Don’t
speak like that.”

“I
know you’ve got a soft spot for the boy, but whatever happens, he brought it on
himself.”

“You
don’t know what you’re talking about. You are to leave Colin alone. He has
enough trouble on his head. And now that new deputy is sniffing around him,
too.”

Dreyer
shook his head, watching her stiffly pull on her shoes and coat. Candace had
always had a weakness for the Daniels men.

“Let
the boy have his fun. Besides, illicit affairs? Sexual indulgence? I think we
both know something about that.”

She
blushed, annoyed.

“That’s
completely different. What you and I have is practically a business
arrangement, nothing more.”

“There
are words for people like that, and they’re not pretty, Mrs. Wilkinson.”

“If
you’re going to be disgusting, I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all.”

Dreyer
held up his hands.

“I
surrender. Will I see you next week?”

Candace
looked him over, haughty, and for a moment he felt like a specimen under a
microscope.

“Of
course.”

“I’ve
had to hand over security tapes to Sheriff Arnetto, but don’t worry, there’s no
hint of our little indiscretions – they’re out of the relevant timeframe
anyway. But I will be putting additional security on the house, just in case. Not
locals. Professionals out of Boston. You can count on their discretion.”

Candace
started to As she walked out the door, Dreyer wondered if Alan ever suspected
that his wife had been fucking another man for years, and then dismissed it. Candace
would never permit that to happen. She loved the people in her life like a
lioness protecting her cubs. Dreyer could be confident in thinking that no
matter what she had to do to accomplish it, Alan would never find out.

THE
DOOR SHOULD NOT be open, Colin thought, worried as he stepped from his truck
and up to the Wilkinson house. Candace’s car was gone, which meant that Alan
was home alone. His heart had been giving him trouble, and Colin was suddenly
concerned that he might have had an attack.

He
stepped up to the door and rapped on the frame.

“Alan?
It’s Colin. I just came by to pick something up. Is everything okay?”

The
silence inside the little house on the hill was disturbing, though Colin could
hear the muted sound of the ball game on in the den. It was possible that Alan
might have fallen asleep in front of the TV. The rest of the lights were out.

But
then why was the door open?

Colin
edged into the house, a feeling of unease raising the hairs on the back of his
neck.

“Alan?”
he called again, and headed down the hallway toward the sound of the game.

He
found Alan in the den in an armchair, his eyes glued to the screen. But the
kindly blue twinkle was gone – they were glassy and cold. A heart attack would
have been less horrific, Colin thought numbly, staring at the blood that
stained the front of his shirt, poured down from the gaping wound in his neck.

Alan’s
throat had been cut.

“Oh,
God. Alan.”

Feeling
sick, Colin braced himself in the doorway.

I
need to call somebody,
he
thought.
I need to find Candace.

A
sudden noise in the hallway had him whirling around, heart pounding.

The
killer is still in the house.

Not
stopping to consider what a reckless and dangerous move it was, Colin dove back
down the hallway – if the killer was making a break for the front door, he
could cut them off. The rage filling him was unbearable. Alan had been a good
man, a good husband to Candace, and one of his father’s best friends. It was
clear that this attack was designed to remind Colin that no one in his life was
safe.

Colin
turned the corner into the foyer and
collided
with
someone in the
dark. With all of his strength he pulled back and threw a punch, managing to
make glancing contact with soft flesh before she twisted away
.

The
soft, feminine, cry of pain was a surprise, and then an angry growl as the
attacker retaliated, and Colin felt a slash of fire along his side.

A
knife. Probably the same one she used to kill Alan.

He
stumbled back, scrambling to get out of range of the blade, cursing the
darkness that prevented him from making out her features, and losing his
footing on the foyer carpet, crashing to the ground. On his back, Colin braced
himself for the next attack.

It
never came.

There
were footsteps as the figure swayed forward, clearly in pain, and then
regrouped, rushing out the door. Colin pulled himself up and lunged forward,
but it was too late.

She
was gone.

Outside,
the sound of the wind and rustles in the trees mixed with the muffled TV in the
den, but the killer had vanished into the darkness.

EVIE
ASHER THOUGHT THAT she had never been this angry before in her entire life. Or
this scared. She acknowledged that both emotions coursed through her veins, but
at the moment, the anger was winning by a mile, as she stepped out of her car. The
sight of Colin sitting on the front steps of the Wilkinson home, having his
side bandaged by an irate Jocelyn, did nothing to soothe her.

“I’m
going to shoot you myself, Colin Daniels!” Evie couldn’t keep her voice from
shaking as she stomped over to join them.

Behind
her, Tony was comforting Candace, who watched in stunned silence as her
husband’s body was removed from the house on a gurney.