The Darkest Hour

by Anina Collins

  I retreated to my house and my comfy chair to curl up under my chenille throw and try to get a handle on all that had happened that day. My world felt like it was spiraling out of control. Bethany was dead. Alex was the prime suspect. And I didn’t know what was true or false. I didn’t want to believe what Derek had said—I couldn’t believe it.

  But who had murdered Bethany and why?

  The urge to talk to Alex pressed down on me, but when I called him, his phone rang the four times before sending me to voicemail. The sound of his voice telling me to leave a message in that way anyone who knew him understood was his serious tone made me smile, but I didn’t leave one. How would I put into words how much everything I’d seen and heard that morning had devastated me?

  I had to talk to someone, so I tried my father again and quietly rejoiced when his phone rang. Even hearing his voicemail message would make me feel better.

  “Good morning, honey. How are you this beautiful day?”

  The weight of the past few hours finally crushed me underneath it, and I began to sob. “Dad, it’s horrible. I don’t know what to do. Alex is the only suspect so far, and I don’t know how to help him.”

  “What? What’s happened?” my father asked in a voice full of worry.

  I wiped my eyes and tried to stop myself from crying. “Bethany was murdered, Dad. Someone slit her throat as she sat in her car. It was horrible. So much blood and the look on her face. I don’t think it will ever leave me.”

  “Oh, Poppy. I’m so sorry. Bethany was your friend. But what’s this about Alex being a suspect? That’s crazy.”

  “I know,” I answered as the tears fell harder. “Derek thinks he did it because he went over to see her last night after he left my house. I guess they had a fight. I don’t know. I don’t know why he’d go over there in the first place. Nothing’s making sense, Dad.”

  “Shhh, I know what you’re thinking, Elizabeth, and you’re wrong. He cares deeply about you, honey. He wouldn’t be dating Bethany behind your back. That’s not the kind of man Alex is. And as for him murdering her, that’s insane. The only way I’d believe that would be if I saw it happen right in front of my eyes.”

  “I know! Derek says because Alex’s wife died the same way and there were rumors he did it that it’s suspicious. But I just can’t believe he could be that person.”

  As I told my father all that had happened, my emotions began to run amok. I didn’t know what to do to fix any of this, and I felt like I was the only one who could.

  My father tried to soothe me, like he always had when I unraveled like this. “Don’t cry, Poppy. I know this will all turn out to be a big mistake. Just breathe and don’t forget you know Alex.”

  “Do I?” I asked, unsure of everything in my life it seemed. “What do I know? What he likes to drink? That he was a cop in Baltimore before he came here? How he takes his coffee?”

  “Stop it right now,” my father scolded. “Don’t belittle everything you two have become. Maybe six months ago that’s all you knew, but now you know him like no one else does in this town. Don’t let your insecurities trick you into thinking you don’t know him because you do.”

  He was right. I knew Alex as well as anyone could know another person. “Thanks, Dad. I needed someone to remind me of that. I better go now.”

  “If you need me for anything, you know where I am, honey. If I can help, I will.”

  “Okay. I just need to figure out where to begin. I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for setting me straight.”

  “That’s what fathers do. And Poppy, be careful. Whoever killed Bethany is still out there and my guess is they want Alex to take the fall for this. They aren’t going to be lining up for you to show the world what they did.”

  “I will, Dad. Love you and I’ll talk to you later.”

  Feeling a little better after my talk with my father, I tried Alex once more and got his voicemail again. I pressed END and pulled my throw over me, curling up under its warmth as I wished I could talk to him, even if it was just for a minute to say I believed him.

  More than anything, I felt lost without Alex. For almost a year, he and I had been a part of each other’s lives every day, and since October, even my nights had been spent with him. Derek’s idea about Alex being some kind of Jekyll and Hyde type of man who could be rational and caring in public and a monster who slits women’s throats in private bounced around my brain as I sat there, and each time I soundly dismissed it as complete and utter nonsense.

  Alex was no more a murderer than I was, but how would I prove it? Without him to flash his badge, I had limited avenues of investigation. At the time when I needed him most, it was him I had to do my best to clear.

  At times like this, I wished my mother was still alive so I could talk to her and hear her tell me it would all work out. Siobhan McGuire always knew how to make a situation better. All she had to do was give me one of her beautiful smiles and softly kiss my forehead and I believed her when she said I’d be okay. Closing my eyes as my tears began to fall, I wished I could ask her what to do now.

  I awoke a few hours later, thankful my dreams hadn’t been of me running and eventually being buried under a mound of sand but of my mother telling me how important the search for truth was, no matter how bleak things looked. Feeling rejuvenated and determined to find Bethany’s killer so everyone else could see Alex was innocent, I headed to my laptop to begin the investigation.

  As I read through page after page of news articles on Helena Montero’s murder, a thought came to me. Derek naturally saw Alex as a suspect because both his wife and Bethany had been killed in exactly the same manner, but what if the killer was someone who knew the details of Helena’s death and copied them to make him look guilty? People had whispered back then that Alex had been his wife’s murderer, so they’d naturally jump to the same conclusion with Bethany’s death, especially since he had a past that involved the same crime. He was the perfect scapegoat.

  My forefinger tapped on the pad at the bottom of my laptop to go to Helena’s obituary. I scanned it and felt as if it read like a love letter from a bereaved husband. Every word seemed filled with his agony from losing her. He’d told me once that writing her obituary had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. As I read it over again with Bethany’s murder so fresh in my mind, I had to believe there was no way Alex could have been Helena’s killer or Bethany’s.

  I needed more information. The problem was how to get it. Usually Alex was my way into official records, but that wasn’t an option now. Asking Derek was certainly a possibility, but I had a feeling even as he’d promised me to keep an open mind, at that very moment he was far too sure one of his own men was guilty.

  Then it came to me. If I wanted details on a murder in Baltimore, who better to call than a coroner who worked for that very city? I’d only met Ken Bryer that one time on the phone when Alex had called him for his expertise on knives, but I got the sense that he’d do anything to help his old friend.

  And if Alex needed anything, he needed help.

  After I found the coroner’s office number, I took a deep breath and called Ken. I didn’t like being the bearer of bad news and if there was some way to gently ease into what had happened, I would have. But there wasn’t. Time was of the essence since no doubt Derek had already begun his official investigation and with all the resources he could bring to bear with just a phone call or the click of a mouse, in no time he’d be building a case against Alex that would make my efforts look meager in comparison.

  So when Ken Bryer finally got on the phone, I began the sad tale of what had happened to his friend that morning and hoped he could shed some light on Helena’s case that could help me with this one.

  “I don’t know if you remember me, Ken, but I’m Alex Montero’s partner Poppy McGuire. We spoke once on a call between the three of us about knives. Alex needs your help now, but he can’t call you.”

  The phone remained silent for a long moment before he s
aid, “I remember you, Poppy. What’s wrong? What’s happened to Alex that he can’t call me himself?”

  I took another deep breath. “The woman he was dating, Bethany, was murdered last night in the same way as Alex’s wife was and he’s the prime suspect in the case. I don’t believe for a second that he’s guilty, but the local police here are currently considering him the only person of interest.”

  “Really? A second murder? I can’t believe this has happened to Alex for a second time. No wonder the police there are looking at him.”

  “I know, but I think if you can tell me about Helena Montero’s murder I might be able to find something that can help me show them they’re looking at the wrong person for this murder.”

  “Why do you think they’re related, other than that Alex was involved with both women?” he asked, clearly confused.

  “Because Bethany’s throat was slit just like Helena’s. It’s almost the same exact method of killing.”

  “Oh. No wonder they think he did it. What do you say to meeting me in my office at one this afternoon? If I can help you clear him, it’s the least I can do for my old friend.”

  Relieved and hopeful that Ken could give me some lead I could run with, I thanked him. “I knew you’d help. Alex thinks the world of you, so I’m not surprised to find out the feeling is mutual. I’ll be there at one sharp.”

  “My pleasure, Poppy. Anything to help my friend. See you then.”

  I thought about trying Alex again but decided a text might be better since I wasn’t sure I could keep my emotions in check. The last thing he needed at that moment was me blubbering to him. But I wanted to let him know I believed in him and would prove he wasn’t the man Derek thought he was.

  No matter what, I know you didn’t do this. I won’t stop until I find out who did.

  Setting my phone on the small table next to the chair, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a time when this was all behind us and we were back to solving cases together. Oh, how I wanted that time to come soon.

  My phone buzzed as it vibrated across the table to alert me to a new text, and I looked down to see Alex’s message back to me.

  Follow the facts and help me prove I’m innocent, Poppy. Please.

  I typed my answer and pressed SEND.

  Trust me. I won’t let them do this to you.

  As I set my phone on the table again and he messaged back that he loved me, I realized that I’d never told him the truth about how I felt about him. I’d loved him for months before that first kiss, but I’d never said a word to him about it, even after we began dating.

  It was about time I did. He needed to know this wasn’t just Poppy his partner helping him but the woman who loved him.

  So I typed out my message and sent it on its way, hoping it made him as happy as it made me to finally admit the truth.

  I love you. I promise I’ll find out what happened.

  His message back to me told me he was okay, at least for the time being.

  I know. I’ve known for a long time. Nice to see you admit it finally.

  Typical Alex. Even in the middle of everything he was going through, he still had a way of making me smile.

  Chapter Four

  Ken Bryer’s assistant escorted me to a seat outside his lab to wait while he finished his twelve o’clock meeting. As I sat there alone in that dimly lit and cold basement hallway, I read Alex’s texts and smiled at how cute he could be. Not usually a man anyone would think would be sweet, he had a way about him when it was just the two of us that I couldn’t help but love.

  I hadn’t told him about my appointment with Dr. Bryer. On the chance that he had nothing to tell me that would help the case, I didn’t want to get Alex’s hopes up if all I’d end up doing was dashing them.

  Stuffing my phone back into my bag, I looked around at where Ken worked and saw little to relate to. Even my tiny office at The Eagle had more ambiance than the basement of the old building I sat in. The white painted concrete walls gave the place a sense of coldness and forced sterility, and the stark white marble tile floors only added to the feeling. I’d seen old hospitals like this in movies. Never once was the setting part of a happy scene.

  A chill ran down my spine as every horror movie set in an abandoned hospital ran through my mind. I rubbed my hands together to warm them but had no luck. Finally, I stuck them back in the pockets of my black wool coat to take advantage of some of my body heat.

  After about fifteen minutes of sitting there and imagining every dreadful possibility that could happen in that empty hallway, Ken Bryer poked his head out of his office and waved me in.

  “Poppy McGuire, I presume?” he asked with a broad smile as I rose to join him.

  “In the flesh.”

  I followed him into his office and immediately noticed it looked every bit as desolate as the hallway outside. No pictures hung on the wall, except a single diploma, leaving the white painted concrete surface like some unfulfilled opportunity to show something of the man who inhabited the office.

  Ken Bryer sat down behind his desk that had not a scrap of paper on top of it. I didn’t know if I’d ever seen a tidier desk. I’d personally always considered anyone who could keep their workspace so clean a psychopath, but I had to reconsider that judgment with Ken.

  Not exactly the complete opposite of Alex, he definitely looked different than our mutual friend. Quite thin for his over six foot frame, his look was best described as jagged. The cheekbones jutted out from under his skin like they strained to escape. Dirty blond hair hung ever so slightly too long in his eyes, forcing him to push it off his face frequently, like doing so was a nervous habit. When the hair was moved and his eyes were visible, I was struck by how blue they were. Almost what I’d call a sky blue, they appeared almost translucent. In another, they may have been jarring, but in Ken, they gave him a very Nordic look.

  “I’m so happy to finally meet you in person, but I wish it was under better circumstances,” he said in a pleasant voice I’d instantly liked the first time I heard it months earlier on the phone. Something about it just put me at ease.

  As I wriggled my arms out of the sleeves of my coat, I nodded. “Me too. Alex speaks very highly of you. I don’t know why he didn’t formally introduce us in person already.”

  The eyebrow over Ken’s right eye twitched slightly, and he pursed his lips. “I’ll have to tell him about that because he shouldn’t be keeping such a delightful creature all to himself up there in the hinterlands.”

  My cheeks warmed at his compliment. “That’s so nice of you. I hope you get the chance to talk to him very soon.”

  He didn’t continue our exchange of polite pleasantries, leaving the silence between us to awkwardly hang in the air. It felt strange that he should be so much the flatterer one minute and then silent as a stone the next, but I chalked up his strange behavior to the fact that he probably spent very little time with the living. Working with the dead all the time likely had made him socially awkward.

  After a long minute of neither of us talking, I finally said, “So, I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me, Ken. I need to know whatever you know about Helena’s death.”

  Frowning, he said, “I’ve never really shaken the sadness from her death, you know that? I knew her as well as I knew Alex, and my heart was broken when I first got the news.”

  “I’m so sorry. I know how it feels to lose someone you care so much about.”

  He stared across his bare desk like he was trying to judge the truthfulness of my apology and asked, “You’ve lost someone dear to you too?”

  I nodded. “My mother a few years ago. I’m still not sure I’ve gotten over it.”

  “You and Alex are two of a kind then because I don’t think he’s ever gotten over the death of Helena. They were what everyone calls soul mates. I never believed in that kind of sappy nonsense until I saw those two together. They were two parts of one soul, no doubt.”

  A twinge of jealousy stabbed at me as I listen
ed to Ken describe Alex and his wife in those terms. It was silly and very possibly juvenile, but I’d always wanted to have someone I could call a soul mate. I’d never found that person, even in Alex, but it seemed he had in Helena and it had been clear to everyone around them.

  “That’s a rare thing to find in this world,” I mumbled as I searched my bag for paper and a pen.

  “They were a one-of-a-kind couple. He fell hard and quick for her. Not that he didn’t have reason. Helena was the type of woman men loved from the first time they laid eyes on her.”

  I scribbled on the piece of paper to get the ink flowing in my pen and nodded my understanding. Helena was stunning. Men loved her. Alex fell hard from the minute they met. Got it.

  With my pen working, I tried to direct the conversation to her murder. “You said you didn’t perform the autopsy on her, right? Does that mean you can’t get the records about it?”

  Ken seemed stunned for a moment at my sudden changing of the topic, his pale blue eyes opening wide and then returning to their normal state, but it didn’t last for long and then he was back to reminiscing about Alex and Helena and their epic love story and ignoring my interest in the findings from the coroner who examined her.

  “She was beautiful, but it was a beauty that came from within. She had long black hair. I remember it being so glossy you could almost see your reflection in it. And big brown eyes like doe eyes. So full of kindness. That’s how she and Alex met—because she was helping some homeless guy who had decided to make the area behind the restaurant where she worked his home.”

  “Really? What did he do that got the attention of the police?” I asked, my mind jumping on the notion that perhaps that homeless man had played a part in her murder.

  Ken hesitated and looked up toward the ceiling as he tried to jog his memory. “Let me think. I want to say he was shot or stabbed. Whatever it was, something had happened to him that brought Alex and his partner to the restaurant and that’s where they met, right in that back alley among the trash bins and everything else that was thrown back there.”