by K. J. Emrick
With an effort of her own life force she reached out to Phin with her gift. This was a technique that her Aunt Millie had detailed in her books, and that Darcy had used a dozen times and more in the past. With the right combination of living energy and otherworldly focus she could see a person’s guilt. It would manifest as blood on their hands. Blood that only she could see, but that was just as real as a person’s guilty conscience.
A sensation like pins and needles crawled its way down Darcy’s arms as her power flowed over her hands, and then along her fingers where they touched Phin.
He jumped as the tingling energy spread from her to him.
Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Darcy looked down.
To her eyes, Phin’s hands were coated with dark red blood. His hands. His wrists. His arms nearly to the elbows. It was dripping all over, leaving a trail behind him that traced back to the door of the store and out onto the street. He carried this guilt with him wherever he went.
She’d never seen it like this. So much blood.
So much guilt…
Realizing something was going on, even if he couldn’t see what Darcy had done, Phin pulled his hands back, breaking the contact with Darcy, ending the vision of his guilt.
She looked at Jon, who was waiting for her to say something. She didn’t have to. He could read the answer in her eyes.
Pressing his lips into a thin line, he nodded. It was the answer they had expected even if it wasn’t the answer they wanted. “Phin,” he said, speaking slowly, “you’re a man of God and I’m asking you to tell me the truth. Someone set that house on fire on purpose, didn’t they? Your house, I mean. Where your sister died.”
When it came, the answer was very small. “Yes.”
Looking down at his hands, perhaps wondering what Darcy had just done, Phin missed the look of surprise on Jon’s face. There was the answer. Straightforward and plain. Yes, Phin had been in the house when the fire killed his sister. He and Darcy had talked about this last night, and they were both sure it had to be Phin who set the fire that killed his sister—either on purpose or by mistake—and for all these years he would have been carrying around that guilt. The amount of blood that Darcy had seen in her vision just now… that was the mark of man who had done something very, very bad.
They’d made a small wager on whether Phin would confess, too.
“Pastor,” Jon said to him, “did you kill your sister?”
Phin made a noise at the back of his throat like a little boy trying not to cry. Then he hung his head, and slumped in his chair.
“Pastor? I asked you a question. Did you kill your sister?”
More tears were the only answer.
“What about the fire at the bakery?” Jon asked. “Did you set that fire?”
Darcy watched as Phin completely fell apart. Dropping his head in his hands he slumped over the table, and sobbed.
They sat that way for a long time. It was quiet in the store. So quiet that Darcy clearly heard the thump of a book falling off one of the back shelves. Aunt Millie was voicing her opinion, for better or for worse.
Standing up, Jon reached behind him for his handcuffs. “Pastor Phineas McCord,” he said. “Stand up, please. You’re under arrest for arson, and the murder of Genevieve, your sister.”
Chapter Seven
Just as Jon was leaving with the Pastor handcuffed behind his back, a group of elderly women came in. Tourists walking around the town and taking in the local sights. Darcy knew the type. They were likely to take their time walking through the entire store and if she was lucky they would buy a romance novel and maybe some t-shirts as gifts for their grandchildren.
They were certainly getting more than they’d bargained for today. Their eyes were wide as Jon nodded to them on the way out. “Ladies. Welcome to Misty Hollow.”
Pastor Phin kept his head down, sweat and tears glistening on his dark skin in the cold air of December.
The women gossiped fiercely as they swarmed around the stacks, taking a cup of coffee or cider from the dispensers in the reading area as they browsed. Darcy was glad to answer their questions about what books they might like to read and if she had the black and gold hoodie sweaters in an extra small for their grandchildren, but she dodged anything they asked about who was arrested and if she knew the man. Then, when she could slip away for a moment, she went to find the book her aunt’s ghost had dropped.
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens sat on the floor waiting for her to pick it up. Easy enough to figure out the message there. Flipping to the beginning of the first chapter, she read it to herself.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…”
Tucking the book back onto its shelf she had to admit that summed it up perfectly. This winter here in Misty Hollow was going to be one of despair for lots of people. Even if Tobias Ford could get the funding together to rebuild the bakery, there wasn’t much anyone was going to be able to do in the snow and the cold. Just board the place up against the weather, and wait for next spring. The burned-out husk of what had once been a place of happiness and laughter was going to sit there until the new year, reminding everyone who passed by about how this was supposed to be the best of times and instead it had turned into the worst…
Back at the sales counter, bagging up sweatshirts and coffee mugs and a travel book for the women as they refilled their styrofoam cups, Darcy found herself scrunching up her forehead as a question nagged at her. Why hadn’t Tobias boarded up the broken windows on the ruined bakery? He should have at least put up something to block the front door. Plastic across that broken front window. Something.
Maybe it was because he’d left town the day after the fire.
Of course that led to another question. Why did he leave town?
Into her thoughts, the front door opened and the bell rang. More customers, she thought at first. Then she saw the top end of a pine tree, wrapped in burlap tarp around its middle to keep the branches down, pushing its way inside. Izzy was holding the door open while she got the tree in, with a little help.
Darcy was surprised to see Grace holding the other side of the tree. It was a welcome surprise to see her sister, but she had to believe there was more than enough to keep her busy down at the police station. Three people arrested in the two days since the fire happened. One of them on charges of arson and suspicion of a decades’ old murder. That was more excitement than Misty Hollow had seen in years, and for this place that was saying a lot.
If Grace was here, it was more than just a social visit.
“Hey, Darcy,” Izzy said to her as they finally got the tree inside. “Look who I found wandering on the streets.”
“You could give us a hand with this, sis,” Grace griped, putting the tree up on its base. “Where do you want this?”
“Oh. Right. Um. In the corner next to the drink station for now, I guess.” Darcy saw the lines in Grace’s forehead. She was worried over something and Darcy knew that it wasn’t all the police work her department had been doing. She loved her job, and she was very good at it. “I’ve got the stand in the office. I think. Maybe I should have thought this through a little better.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “No, that’s fine. Izzy told me about your idea to have people bring in presents for families who need them. I think that’s a great idea. Maybe you could sell tickets in your store for our department’s Winter Raffle, too.”
“Oh, yes!” Izzy agreed. “We could hang them off the tree for people to snag and bring up to the counter.”
Grace settled the tree, still wrapped, into the corner of the wall. “Sounds good. I’ll talk to Jon. Come on, Darcy, I’ll help you look for that base.”
“How’s the store been while I was gone?” Izzy asked Darcy.
“Um, fine.” She realized Grace wanted to get her alone, to talk, so whatever was bothering her must be something important. “We haven’t hit our mid-day rush yet. Give it another half hour.”
“Good. I’ve got some reading I want to do.”
“And I’ve got some news to share with you,” Darcy told Izzy. “I’ll be right back.”
Grace followed Darcy into the back office, and then she closed the door. “Sis, I need your advice.”
Darcy was sure she must have heard that wrong. “You? Need my help?”
“Yeah, yeah, mark it on your calendar already. Listen. This is your area, not mine, and… yes. I need your help.”
There could be no doubt about what Grace meant. Darcy’s area meant one thing. The same thing that it meant to Jon when he said Darcy would be in charge of teaching Colby about her extrasensory gifts because it was her “area.” “Don’t tell me you’ve seen a ghost,” Darcy joked.
Grace flinched, just a little bit, just enough to make her lips twist and her eyes blink but Darcy saw it. In the next instant she was waving her hand through the air to dispel the idea. “No, it’s not like that. It’s, um.” She sighed. “It’s Addison.”
“Your daughter?”
“Yes, my daughter,” Grace said. “How many Addisons do you know?”
“Well, sure, but… all right. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
Walking over to the little couch, Grace plopped herself down hard. “Here’s what’s going on. This morning while I was getting ready to go to work, Addison and I were eating breakfast together at the table. I’m eating my toast, she’s eating her cereal, and then she just sits right up and stares at the wall. Then, she says to me…”
Grace’s voice trailed off, and now Darcy really was concerned. Her sister was the toughest woman she knew, bar none. Nothing ever upset her. Only, something clearly was this time. “Darcy, this is really freaking me out.”
“Just tell me, sis.” She sat down in the office chair at the desk. This seemed like a conversation she’d want to sit down for. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Depends on how you look at it, I guess.” She blew out a breath as she shifted on the couch. “Addison told me that it was the brother’s fault.”
“Brother? Grace, Addison doesn’t have a… oh, wait. Oh, for Pete’s Sake, Grace, are you pregnant?”
Her rising excitement was dashed in the next instant by the sour look she got from her sister. “No, I am not pregnant. Me and Aaron are trying again, I mean, sure, but… that’s not the point, Darcy! Addison didn’t say it was her brother’s fault. She said it was the brother’s fault. That was this morning. Then I’m at work and here comes Jon with Pastor Phin in handcuffs, and he explains to me that Phin burned the bakery and maybe killed his sister. Which makes him the brother.”
It was the brother’s fault. Now that she understood what Grace was saying she recognized it as the same thing that the ghost from the church—Genevieve—had told Colby. It was her brother’s fault. Her brother killed her.
And Addison, sweet not-quite-teenaged Addison, had known about it before the arrest was made. Before her mother even went to work. Now how was that possible?
The answer was simple. At least, for Darcy it was. It might be a little harder for Grace to swallow.
She remembered back, to little things Addison had done over the years that made it clear to Darcy that Grace’s daughter had inherited the family gift just like Colby had, only not as strong. In fact, it had been a question in Darcy’s mind whether the gift would ever amount to anything in Addison other than as a way to win at carnival games. She might be able to know which of the three cups had the marble hiding under it, but that didn’t mean she’d be able to talk to ghosts. She’d kept an eye on Addison through the years, waiting for any indication that the gift would become something in her worth mentioning. Until it did, she didn’t want to upset Grace.
Once, at a party she and Jon had hosted at their home to celebrate his not dying in that terrible, horrifying car crash, Colby had turned to her and said, we know things, Mommy. You and me and Aunt Millie. Oh. Aunt Grace’s daughter, too, but she can only do it a little. Addison isn’t as good at stuff like that.
Those words had always stuck with her. She’d promised to tell Grace what she suspected if the time ever came. Apparently, the time was now.
Before she could say anything, Grace read the answer on her face, and her eyes opened wide. “You knew!”
“Now, Grace, that’s not how it is,” Darcy said defensively. “I suspected—”
“No, I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. You knew! Darcy, how could you not tell me this? Addison’s my daughter!”
“Shh,” Darcy said, knowing how that must sound to Grace but knowing, too, that they did not want to start talking about how the family could see and talk to ghosts where other people might hear them. Even if it was just Izzy out there in the bookstore. “Look, Grace… yes, I knew that there was a little spark of the gift in Addison. I didn’t know if it was ever going to be more than that. So I waited.”
“For what?? To see if she started doubling over and foaming at the mouth while her eyes rolled back in her head?”
Darcy glared at her. “You’re thinking of Linda Blair in the Exorcist. Have you ever once, in your whole entire life, ever seen me foam at the mouth?”
“You know what I mean!” Grace shouted, not even pretending to care if her voice carried outside the door. “This is my daughter I’m talking about and you should have told me.”
“Okay, okay Grace,” Darcy said, trying to keep this from becoming an all-out argument. “Look, we were going to have a dinner together sometime this week anyway, right? Why don’t you come over tomorrow night? Now that there’s been an arrest in the arson case things should calm down, right? You can let the uniformed officers and Wilson take care of the town for a night. What do you say?”
Grace glared at her. The moment stretched, and Darcy was sure that she saw something else behind her sister’s anger. Her intuition was telling her there was more to this than what Grace had said. Maybe there had been more little incidents with Addison. Something that really upset Grace that she wasn’t ready to talk about yet. She knew to trust her feelings, and right now she felt that her sister wasn’t telling her everything.
Well. Family dinners were a great time for secrets to come out. Food and drink and conversation made everyone feel better. They could have their dinner together, and then Darcy could talk with Addison and see how deep her powers really did run. Colby might even be able to help her in that respect and if Grace saw that Colby was still a well-adjusted little girl even with her gift, then maybe she wouldn’t be so stressed about her own daughter.
Finally, Grace nodded, and got up from the couch. “Sounds good to me. All right. I guess we’d better find that Christmas tree base while we’re here, huh?”
“It’s right here,” Darcy said, reaching underneath the desk and pulling out the green and red metal tripod support. “I saw it on the way in.”
“Heh. That’s my sister. Not just another pretty face.”
“Aw,” Darcy joked. “You really think I’m pretty?”
“Sure. You take after me.”
That allowed them both to laugh, sister to sister, and for a moment the stress lines across Grace’s forehead eased up.
Darcy opened up the office door to find Izzy talking with someone. Probably not a customer, considering the way they were both leaning into each other across the sales counter and whispering. Were they talking about her and Grace, she wondered? They hadn’t been very quiet with their conversation, in spite of Darcy’s warnings. Sisters were like that sometimes. The anxious looks on their faces told her it was something else though.
Besides, she knew the other person standing there. She doubted very much that Helen Turner, her good friend and the town’s mayor, would ever gossip about her.
She might already be in her sixties but Helen had the energy of a w
oman half that age. Sure, her hair in its ponytail was gray and there were worry lines around her eyes but there were laugh lines around her mouth, too, and she always carried herself with the bearing of a woman in charge. She was the mayor of Misty Hollow, after all, and that meant learning to dodge the things that life threw at you. If Helen had been dodging more than most women her age then it had only served to make her stronger.
“Hi, Helen!” Darcy was glad her friend had come to see her. The way things were stacking up she wasn’t sure when they would have found time to get together otherwise. “Um. I’m guessing that you told Izzy about everything that happened?”
“Pastor Phin got arrested?” Izzy asked incredulously. “I can’t believe it!”
“I was going to tell you,” Darcy told her sheepishly. “I really was, but I got sidetracked with Grace. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right.” Izzy shrugged. “It sounded like there’s a lot going on.”
She intentionally didn’t look at Grace when she said it. Grace intentionally didn’t look at anyone.
Helen broke the silence. “It really is hard to believe that a man like Pastor Phin would have done something like this. He was always such a quiet man. Always there for the community. Do you suppose he was trying to make up for the things in his past? But then, why burn down the bakery? That’s what I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.”
Darcy didn’t get it, either. “He wasn’t talking much by the time Jon got around to that question.”
Her gift could only show her there was guilt on Phin’s conscience. He’d done something in his past that had tainted his soul, and she saw the blood on his hands. But her gift couldn’t tell her why he did the things. There had to be a reason.
What was it?
“My bakery…” A choking gasp broke off the rest of Helen’s sentence. She had to take a moment to compose herself before she could continue. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just put so much of my life into that business and I thought that when we sold it that it was going to be in good hands. I never in my wildest dreams ever thought that I would be standing here today looking at a ruin that used to be my life. I can see right inside those broken windows at all the damage. Oh, Darcy, when I think back to all the memories that were made in my store, and now it’s all gone, and I just want to sit down and cry!”
