Dark Shadows (Gia Santella Crime Thrillers Book 11)

by Kristi Belcamino

  I figured they’d snuck off to some back room a long time ago, so I was surprised to hear them from where I stood in the hallway off the kitchen.

  “Seriously, when are you going to man up?” It was Amanda.

  He answered in a voice so low I couldn’t make out what he said. I froze with my hand on the door handle to the bathroom.

  “I’m not going to wait much longer,” she said.

  This time I heard him answer. “Be patient.”

  “If it doesn’t happen tonight, it’s over. I’ll do it myself.”

  “She’ll know it was you. You’ll ruin everything.”

  “Don’t you push me. Don’t you tempt me. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” he said.

  “You should be.”

  What the fuck?

  Then I heard footsteps. Instead of ducking into the bathroom, I stood my ground. It was my villa. But they had obviously headed the opposite way.

  Jail? Something criminal for sure. Hannah was sweet and trusting. Or at least that’s how she’d seemed in the few hours I’d known her. I hated to see her get hurt. These two people, her boyfriend and best friend were plotting something. And it was no good.

  But, as I reminded myself, it was none of my business.

  Their friendship and dating drama seemed foreign to me.

  I was so glad I was past those days.

  No thank you.

  I was over it.

  Even though in my mind my marriage was over, and I was a free agent, that meant very little in the scheme of things.

  From now on, no more entanglements. Booty calls? Check. Romance? Avoid. Relationships? No way.

  Back outside, I saw that everyone was out of the pool. Amanda and Lucas were now outside and standing at opposite sides of the patio.

  I sat down and reached for my drink.

  Hannah was suddenly at my side.

  “Don’t mind Amanda’s attitude. She’s okay. Deep down, she’s not all that bad.” She perched on the edge of the lounge chair near me.

  “I’ve got no issues with her personally.” Even though I think she’s a crazy selfish manipulative bitch.

  “Oh,” she said. “I just saw the look on your face earlier.”

  “She’s definitely a piece of work,” I said.

  Hannah took a sip of her drink before answering. “She’s my best friend. She’s just prickly, but she’s got a good heart. I know she’s grateful you’re letting us stay here. We all are. Thank you again. For all of this.”

  “Wouldn’t want you to miss the festival,” I said.

  Hannah lit up when she talked about film making. She said that she’d dreamed of directing since she first saw The Virgin Suicides.

  “One of Coppola’s best,” I said.

  “Yeah. But I also love Lost in Translation and Marie Antoinette.”

  “Marie Antoinette is my least favorite Sofia Coppola flick.”

  Hannah drew back with wide eyes. “Impossible!”

  I laughed.

  “The scenery alone. But the costumes! The costumes! It won the Academy Award for that.”

  I yawned. “Fashion bores me. To tears.”

  “Well, that explains it.”

  “Not to mention I’m not a big fan of historical pieces.”

  “I’m not sure we can be friends.”

  I laughed again. I really liked Hannah. I wanted to tell her that if she just shed her insecurity, her true beauty would shine through. Because whenever she talked about her passion—film—she lit up and was stunningly gorgeous.

  I thought about how Amanda’s more obvious beauty was marred by her shitty attitude. And I wondered what the hell she and Lucas had been scheming about in the house.

  “How long have you been seeing Lucas.”

  Hannah blushed. “Not long. Can you tell?”

  I shook my head.

  Just then, he came over and sat beside her on the edge of the lounge chair, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

  “Hey, babe. Want another drink? I’m about to go refresh mine.” He jiggled the glass of ice in his hand.

  She frowned. “I thought that’s what you were just doing in the kitchen.”

  He blanched for a second.

  “Nah. I was using the toilet.”

  I stared at him. He quickly looked away.

  “Sure,” she said and handed him her drink with a falsely bright smile.

  He left.

  Hannah swiveled her head to find Amanda. When she saw the blonde sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water splashing Owen, she turned back to me and gave a wan smile.

  After a few seconds of silence, I said, “How did you win tickets to the festival?”

  “I really only won tickets to see Sofia Coppola’s film and the private party afterward.”

  I gave a low whistle. “That’s pretty amazing,” I said and meant it.

  She blushed. “It’s incredible.”

  “You weren’t going to skip going just because you didn’t have a place to stay were you?” I was trying to feel out the girl’s mettle. Was she a pushover in other areas of her life beyond the boundaries between her boyfriend and best friend? Would she let her friends derail her dreams? I don’t know why I wanted to know so badly.

  She vehemently shook her head. “I would’ve figured out a way to come. Sabine and Clint have plans to head up to his aunt’s house in Paris. Last night we discussed going there for a few days, and I was thinking I could take the train down that night or something. It would’ve been complicated, but I still would’ve gone. Staying here makes it easy.”

  “I’m so glad,” I said.

  “Plus, I didn’t really want to be away from Lucas for that long.”

  “Why?” I asked in a matter-of-fact voice.

  She visibly squirmed, cracking her knuckles and shrugging. “I don’t know. It’s sort of dumb. Even though we’ve known each other since we were kids, we just started dating. It’s all sort of fresh and new.”

  “Wouldn’t he have come with you?”

  She looked away and shook her head. “He’s not really into film. He said I should take Owen or Conner because he loves Coppola.”

  I thought about what I’d seen earlier. How convenient for him to say that. Was it so he could be with Amanda?

  Lucas appeared with her drink and sat back down beside her, kissing her neck.

  “I’m bored,” he said in a low voice. “Want to go to our room?”

  “Yes!” she said and jumped up. She turned to me with a guilty look.

  “I’m going to bed in a few minutes, too,” I said and yawned.

  When I stood, all the others looked at me.

  “Hey, I’m going to bed. I’ll lock up and set the alarm system. There’s been some break-ins recently. If you need to leave for any reason, just come knock on my bedroom door, and I’ll let you out.”

  Yawning, I headed for the front door. Suddenly, Conner was behind me, wrapping his arms around me from behind and kissing my neck. I shrugged out of his embrace.

  “You are amazingly hot,” I said. “But not tonight.”

  “Was it that call you got?”

  It was none of his business, but after we’d been so hot and heavy earlier, I thought he deserved my honesty. I gave a slight nod.

  He gave a small smile. And then did the sweetest thing—he kissed my forehead.

  “Sleep well.”

  And then he was gone into the dark of the rest of the house.

  I set the alarm system and headed up the stairs to my bedroom.

  In my room, I slid the deadbolt across the door and stripped off my clothes without turning on any lights. The room had a faint blue glow from the lights in and around the pool below filtering in through my windows. With the French doors to my balcony thrown open, I could hear the others talking and laughing down below, and it was oddly comforting. A light breeze blew the long, sheer curtains into the room, and I felt a sense of peace
I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  I fell asleep almost immediately.

  I woke in the dark, sitting up straight. I’d heard a sound.

  Something disturbing that sent my heart racing and blood pounding.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d heard, but it put my body on high alert.

  Instinctively, I reached for the gun in my nightstand drawer.

  My hand groped at an empty wooden rectangle.

  It wasn’t there. Neither was the silencer.

  I switched on the bedside light to make sure, but the drawer was empty.

  Then I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the pool area.

  I raced to my balcony.

  Despite the sun creeping over the horizon to the east, the backyard was still in dark shadows, and the turquoise lights still lit up the pool, showcasing a horror vignette: a body floating in the pool surrounded by a crimson cloud of blood.

  It was Lucas.

  8

  Amanda, dressed in a white nightgown, stood by the side of the pool, her body shuddering as she wailed.

  Behind me, I heard doors slamming open and people shouting and footsteps.

  I stood still for a second and then saw something that I wasn’t sure how to interpret.

  Amanda looked around, her head swiveling, and then she waited a few seconds very calmly. And then she screamed again.

  What the fuck was that about?

  Conner came racing outside, swore, and dove into the pool. He swam to Lucas’s body, which was floating face down and pulled it to the stairs. He lifted Lucas out and put him on his back. He started CPR, but Lucas’s face was blue. Even from the second story I could see that.

  And still, Conner pumped on his chest. Owen was there suddenly, kneeling beside and shaking Lucas.

  I reached for my phone and ran out of my room even though I was only wearing underwear and a thin camisole.

  Outside, Conner had given up on the life-saving measures. He sat with his head in his hands on the edge of the lounge chair weeping. Amanda was sitting near Lucas’s head, legs splayed, tears dripping down her face. Owen had his arm around her. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his eyes were swollen and red.

  “What happened? How did this happen?” she asked.

  I grabbed a blanket out of a basket near the fire pit and gently covered up Lucas’s body, trying not to meet his blue, sightless gaze.

  I took Amanda by the arm. “Come on, let’s go inside.” She didn’t fight me.

  Owen stood, too, and put his arm around her. They headed for the back door. I went over to Conner. “You okay?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Me, either,” I said. “Will you wait here while I call the authorities?”

  He nodded, staring straight ahead.

  I looked down at the cell phone in my hand and hesitated. I didn’t even know who to call. What was 911 in France?

  Then I realized I needed to call Dante’s friend, Ryder.

  He answered immediately.

  “I’ve got a problem.”

  Inside the house, I went back upstairs to put on pants before the cops came and found Sabine standing in front of Hannah’s door.

  “Something’s wrong with her,” Sabine said looking at me, white-faced.

  I looked into the room. Hannah was sitting up in bed, bleary-eyed and blinking.

  “What’s going on? I don’t feel so good.”

  She reached over the side of the bed and grabbed a small ceramic trash can. She held it for a second and then leaned over and vomited into it

  I sat on the edge of the bed and held her, pulling back her hair as she got sick.

  Then she was done and thrust the trash can at me.

  I set it on the floor and she looked at me.

  “I can barely keep my eyes open,” she said and slumped over. “Where’s Lucas?” she said and then closed her eyes.

  Sabine gave me a look.

  “Did you see outside?” I asked her in a guarded voice. Sabine nodded and her face crumpled.

  After I stood, I saw the glass near Hannah’s nightstand. I lifted it to my nose and smelled it. It smelled like booze. Drugs? I wasn’t positive, but Hannah’s symptoms made it appear as if she’d been drugged.

  Sabine helped Hannah downstairs while I went to throw on some sweatpants.

  When I came downstairs everyone was in the great room except Conner and Lucas, of course.

  The wide-open space contained three white leather couches flanked by marble tables. The group of friends sat slumped on the couches, their feet either curled up beneath them or propped up on the marble coffee table, which held the black onyx bust of a woman. Some sipped coffee. Some drank alcohol from crystal tumblers. Owen was drinking out of a black bottle—some type of booze.

  I glanced at the bottle of alcohol on the coffee table. It was a bad idea to be drinking before the cops came, but what could I say? They’d just found their friend dead.

  Immediately, my gaze found Hannah. She was seated between Sabine and Clint. Hannah was leaned back on the couch with her eyes closed, but she lifted her head when I walked in. Her head swiveled as she seemed to take everyone in around her. Then she looked at me and blinked.

  “Where’s Lucas. Where’s Conner?”

  They hadn’t told her yet. Fuck me.

  Sabine kneeled in front of her.

  “Lucas is dead, Hannah. I’m so sorry.”

  “How? What?” She tried to stand but immediately fell back onto the couch when her legs buckled out from under her.

  “We’re not sure,” I said.

  “Where is he?”

  “He was in the pool.”

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” she said and tried to stand again. “I need to go to him. I need to see him.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “Conner is with him.”

  I waited for her to ask how he died, prepared to give a vague answer, but the question never came.

  Hannah looked at Amanda, eyes narrowed. “Who found him?”

  She knew. I’d wondered how she could not know. Of course, she knew. She knew they had something–whatever it was—secret between them. Her tone was angry and vicious and accusatory.

  “Amanda did,” Sabine said and cast a worried look at Amanda.

  “Of course she did.” Hannah bit out the words as if they were venom.

  We all looked over at Amanda.

  She stared straight ahead, tears streaming down her face.

  Suddenly, she stood and ran out of the room.

  Owen looked around wildly at all of us and then got up.

  But I beat him to it and held my palm out toward him.

  “I’ll check on her.”

  He sat down quickly. I could tell he was relieved. I wanted to talk to her alone, before the police came.

  I found her out by the pool. She was curled on the pavement by Lucas’s body, which was still covered with the blanket. Conner sat in a lounge chair nearby, smoking a cigarette, his hand shaking wildly.

  I put my hand on Conner’s shoulder.

  “Why don’t you go inside now?”

  “I don’t want to leave him alone.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” I said. I squeezed his shoulder. I didn’t know what else to do. We both watched Amanda.

  “I’m so sorry,” she was saying.

  I froze, but she looked up at me, her head jerking so her eyes met mine.

  “Amanda?” I asked, as if I hadn’t just heard her apologizing to a dead body.

  “I know,” she said. “I know…he’s not really here anymore.”

  “What made you come out here this morning?” I asked.

  She looked back down at him, her hair hanging in a curtain and hiding her face.

  “It seems pretty early for you to be up after we were all up so late,” I said, pressing the issue.

  “I’m a morning person.”

  “So…you, what, just came out for a swim in your nightgown?”
>
  I eyed the filmy white gown with the low-plunging neckline.

  “Maybe,” she said snottily. “What are you getting at?”

  “Just trying to figure it out. These are the same things the police are going to ask you in a few minutes.”

  She looked up wide-eyed.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Then she was gone.

  I watched her back as she disappeared into the house. She didn’t like the idea of the police questioning her, did she? Why was that?

  When I turned back around, Conner was still sitting there.

  “Sadly, he’s not going anywhere, Conner. Then there’s no need for anyone to be out here anymore. We’ll make sure nobody comes out until the police arrive.”

  He nodded and stood.

  Inside, Amanda was sitting demurely on the couch, again staring off into space. In her defense, everyone else was as well. I suspected that along with the shock, they were probably all sleep deprived and slightly hung over.

  “Was it an accident?” Hannah’s voice broke the silence.

  I shrugged. I mean it was plausible that he’d hit his head and fallen in. But I didn’t think so. Call it gut instinct.

  “Not, it wasn’t a fucking accident,” Amanda said loudly and glared at Hannah. “You know that.”

  Hannah gasped. “I don’t know anything.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Hannah said, her mouth dropping open.

  “Why don’t you tell the others about your little argument last night?”

  “What the fuck?” Owen said.

  Everyone started talking at once.

  Then everyone froze and fell into an uncomfortable silence when the doorbell rang. I jumped up to punch in the alarm code and open the door.

  It was Ryder.

  He strode confidently through the room and toward the back of the house. Thank God.

  As annoying as he was, it was nice to not have to be the only fucking adult in the room.

  I stood quickly to follow him but first turned to the group. “Stay here. If the police knock, let them in and yell for me.”

  Then I led Ryder toward the back door.

  “Who are your friends?” he said as we entered the kitchen. “And who is?” He waved his hand toward the blanket. The dead body.

  “Long story short—ran into these kids at a club, was feeling lonely... Their reservation had been fouled up. I invited them back here. We stayed up late drinking. I woke to one of them dead in my pool.”