So Dark the Night

by Margaret Daley

  Emma came around the table, running her hand along its surface. When Colin nudged her with his arm, she took it and said, “See you later, Grace. I look forward to the lesson this afternoon.”

  On the drive to the cabin, Emma asked, “What happened at the hospital? Is your parishioner all right?”

  “Thank the Lord it wasn’t a heart attack. Just a bad case of indigestion. He’s resting comfortably at home. I went by this morning before picking you up.”

  “Oh, good. Will you be able to come over this evening and help me go through the rest of Derek’s papers?”

  “I’d planned on it. I asked J.T. to stop by later so he could hear some of our theories. Is that all right?”

  “Sure. Maybe he’ll have some news.”

  “I’m having him check on any strangers in the area. Since Crystal Springs is relatively small, strangers usually stand out. Except this is a good fishing season, so there are more people than usual staying out at the lake.”

  “Have the press finally left?” she asked, thinking about the few who had tried to interview her at Grace’s house and hadn’t gotten anywhere with Colin’s aunt guarding her privacy.

  “I think J.T. said one or two are still around, but with your parents’ departure most have left. All right, we’re here.” Colin turned onto the road that led to the cabin.

  Her heart began to pound and a thin layer of perspiration coated her upper lip and forehead. She could do this. She had to. If he hadn’t brought her today, she would have asked him to. She desperately hoped this visit would spark a memory—anything.

  To take her mind off the approach to the cabin, Emma said, “Grace has asked me to go with her to church, too.”

  “Will you?”

  “Maybe,” she said, not quite sure she should commit.

  He stopped his SUV and turned off the engine. “Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’m going to be.” She heaved a deep sigh and pushed open the door.

  As she climbed out of the car, Colin rounded it and came to her side. “You call the shots.”

  “Don’t use that word around me,” she said with a laugh.

  “Sorry. The cabin is about four yards directly in front of you.”

  She moved a few feet from the SUV. The warmth of the sun caressed her face while a gentle breeze played with her hair, a hint of honeysuckle carried with it. A rivulet of sweat rolled down her face.

  I can do this.

  She remembered the parable of the lost sheep she’d heard the night before on the CD. He rejoices more over that sheep than the ninety-nine that did not go astray. Was that true? Was God with her, a lost sheep, if only she asked?

  With the words of the Gospel According to Matthew running through her mind, she approached the cabin, Colin next to her, guiding her. When he indicated, she mounted the steps to the porch, her heart beating so fast her breathing became shallow.

  She stopped. “Where is the window?”

  “Two feet to the left.”

  She cautiously walked toward it with her arm outstretched. When she felt the pane, she froze. Chilled even though the temperature was warm, Emma shuddered. She knew something had happened at this window. She forced herself to press close to it, her trembling hands flattened on the glass.

  In her mind, a figure emerged, just out of focus in the distance. Tall. Thin. Something familiar niggled at her. Was this the man who had shot her brother? Was this the man who had beaten him?

  Startled by her last silent question, she asked, “Was Derek beaten up before he was shot?”

  “Yes. Do you remember something?”

  “Yes.” She squinted as though that would help her to see the person in her mind, but his features didn’t come into view. “No, not really. At least, I’m not sure if what I’m remembering is real or not.”

  “What is it?”

  “A tall, thin man, perhaps six feet.” Throwing all her concentration into the task, she strained, trying to make out some feature that would tell her who the man was. “There’s something familiar about him, but I don’t know what it is.” Her voice rose with her churning frustration. The hands flat on the pane balled into fists, and she had to refrain herself from pounding against the glass. “Why can’t I remember? I need to.”

  Colin’s hand on her shoulder kneaded the tensed muscles bunched around her neck. “You will when you can handle it.”

  “I can now.”

  “Are you so sure about that? You probably saw your beloved brother murdered before your eyes. That isn’t something you’ll ever be able to dismiss when you do finally remember—and I feel you will, one day. You’re already remembering bits and pieces. It’ll fall into place.”

  The feel of his gentle hands massaging her tension tempted her to lean back against him and draw comfort from his embrace. He had given her so much, and she knew his reason was tied up in the guilt he felt at having hit her with his SUV. “I want you to know I don’t blame you for what happened on the highway. Your presence saved my life.”

  The rubbing motion of his fingers stilled. Tension whipped down his length, transmitted to her through his touch. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the accident. I thought I’d killed you.”

  She twisted around. She found his face and cupped her hands on either side, feeling the smooth skin of his jaw. “You listen to me. I was shot first. If you hadn’t been there, they would have finished me off. I owe you my life. And I just realized I haven’t thanked you, Colin Fitzpatrick. You’re a good man.”

  Silence reigned for a long minute before he leaned toward her, his breath fanning her cheek. Her hands slipped to his shoulders.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured right before his lips grazed hers ever so softly, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted.

  She didn’t want to. She welcomed the caress of his mouth as he deepened the kiss, and for a brief moment in time she forgot where she was. Her senses honed in on the feel of Colin’s lips against hers, of his masculine scent teasing her nostrils, of the slightly rough texture of his hands now cradling her face, their warmth searing the edges of her frozen heart with his tenderness.

  When he pulled back, he whispered in a raspy voice, “I shouldn’t have done that, but I’ve wanted to for days. You’re a remarkable woman.”

  “You’re going to make me blush and I don’t blush.” Colin was causing feelings inside of her that she had never experienced before, and that frightened her. They didn’t live in the same world. One day she would have to go back to hers, resume her old life. And she didn’t want to hurt this man or be hurt by him.

  “Are you ready to go inside?” he finally asked, his voice more in control now.

  “Yes. You can describe to me what you see. I don’t know what good it’ll do, but maybe something will click.”

  When he opened the door to the cabin, the one overriding smell that assaulted her was a cleaning product masked with a scent of pine. She hadn’t expected that, had even steeled herself for the metallic odor of blood. “Did someone clean up in here?”

  “I asked J.T. to remove any evidence that…”

  His voice faded into the eerie silence as though the world had come to a standstill with her perched on the threshold into the cabin. She tried to form words to finish his sentence. He was trying to protect her again. “Where Derek was murdered?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a world of emotion in the answer he gave her, as though he had known her brother and cared as much as she did. He touched her deep in her heart, where she hadn’t thought it was possible. Breathing became difficult, her lungs feeling compressed, aching. She turned away from the room, staring out the open door, desperate to inhale fresh air, not laced with a cleaning product used to cover the stench of death.

  “We don’t have to do this today if you want to leave.”

  Again his hand settled on her shoulder, gently conveying his continuous support. She covered it, squeezing it. “Yes, I do. There may be answers h
ere somewhere and I can’t not do it.” She spun around, straightened herself and said, “Describe the room.”

  Colin stood next to her, his arm plastered against hers. “The place has totally been trashed and the sheriff hasn’t touched any of that. Every drawer has been pulled out and the contents dumped onto the carpet. The couch and chairs have been slashed and even the stuffing yanked out. Pictures on the wall were removed and the backs torn off. Even the kitchen table was overturned.”

  “They were looking for something. But what?”

  “Did Derek say anything to you that last time he called you? Was anyone threatening him recently?”

  “Besides the couple of threats he had received when working for my father?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, but he had insisted I come to the cabin now. I wanted to wait until next month when I had more time. I had to clear my calendar in order to get away longer than a few days, but Derek wouldn’t take no for an answer and I couldn’t tell him no. Not after all he had done for me. I needed the break and we hadn’t seen each other much this past year with him starting his new business.”

  “Did it sound like something was troubling him?”

  Emma closed her eyes as though that would help her think better. “Yes—” she tilted her head “—his voice held an urgency to it. I wondered about it at the time then dismissed it as stress. He wanted to tell me something, but I never thought it could lead to something like this.” She gestured toward the messy cabin.

  “There are two doors that open into this large room.”

  “One’s the bedroom and the other’s a bathroom.”

  “Let me check them out. It’s hard to move around in here without tripping over something.”

  Colin left her side, and she listened to the muffled sound of his footsteps crossing the carpeted floor, the creak of the door as he investigated one of the rooms. Her brother had tried to modernize the cabin and make it more livable with indoor/outdoor carpet, new appliances in the kitchen, better plumbing and furniture. And she could see none of those touches he had been excited about.

  The hairs on the nape of her neck tingled, and for just a few seconds she felt as though she had a big red bull’s-eye on her back. She carefully stepped away from the entrance into the cabin, her foot pushing some books out of the way so she could stand against the wall next to the door. But still, the feeling she was being watched encased her in a cold sweat. Her heartbeat crashed against her chest at an alarming rate.

  “Is it any different than in here?” she called, needing to hear her voice in the sudden quiet. Her dark world pressed in on her.

  “No, everything that can be has been destroyed, slashed or ripped apart.”

  “So if there was something in here they wanted, they got it.”

  “I would say yes.” Colin strode back toward her. The nearer he came, the calmer her heart beat.

  “Then, we might never know who’s behind Derek’s murder.”

  “There’s still you.”

  Emma sank back against the wall, letting it support most of her weight. She ground her palms into her eyes, willing herself to see, to remember.

  Colin clasped her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “Don’t force it, Emma. It’ll happen.”

  “You don’t know that.” Anger swelled into her chest, stiffening her body.

  She jerked from his hold and twisted away, stepping out onto the porch, gulping in deep breaths of the fresh, moisture-laden air. With her shoulders hunched, she stared down, a black void the only thing she saw. “I want this to end, now.”

  Colin approached her from behind. “I don’t think there’s anything else we can accomplish here. Let’s leave. It looks like it might rain soon.”

  As Emma walked with Colin to his SUV, the wind picked up. In the distance she heard thunder rumble. The feeling she was being watched still clung to her, and she paused at the door to ask in a whisper, “Do you see anyone in the woods?”

  “Get in.” Colin’s voice roughened even though his hand on her arm was gentle as he assisted her into his vehicle.

  A minute later he opened the driver’s door and climbed in. “I didn’t see anyone, but the trees are thick and could easily hide someone. Why did you ask?”

  “Just a feeling I’ve had since being in the cabin. Probably nerves.”

  “Maybe.” He backed up his SUV, then drove forward, turning toward the highway. “But I’ve always respected a person’s gut feeling.”

  She shivered. “Then you think there was someone back at the cabin watching?”

  “The people who killed Derek are still out there, and you’re the only one who might know something. We’ll have to be more careful in the future. I didn’t think anyone was following us, but you better believe next time I’ll know for sure.”

  “Maybe they didn’t find what they were looking for, and since the sheriff is finished with the cabin, they came back to look some more.”

  “That’s a possibility. If there was something valuable that someone wanted, where would Derek hide it?”

  “I would have said the safety-deposit box, but we know that’s empty. Maybe his apartment? The security there is tight.”

  “Tomorrow, after church, let’s go back to Central City and check his apartment again. We didn’t really look around much beyond his desk.” He made a turn onto the highway.

  “I’ve decided to go with Grace to church. I know how much it means to her and I wouldn’t want her to feel she had to stay home because I needed someone to watch me.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “What other reason would there be?” She didn’t want to tell him she was curious about God, that she had spent hours the night before listening to the New Testament CDs he’d lent her. Her feelings concerning faith in the Lord were too tender and raw to expose them to anyone else—even Colin.

  “I’m still puzzled why Derek has these articles concerning a hit-and-run and a house fire. How did he know the Johnsons, who owned the house that burned down, or Clay Mitchell, who was hit by the car?” Emma scrubbed her hands down her face, her brain overloaded from all the information Colin had read in the past hour.

  “Do you think either one was involved in a company he took over?”

  “Maybe. That would make sense. He has articles concerning Alexander Sims and Jerry Lunsford, and I know they were involved in companies my brother took over.” She shifted on the couch in the den, her shoulder where the bullet had passed through aching more than usual from all her activity of late.

  “Is there any way we can find out?”

  Every time he said we, her heart melted a little more. His family had made her feel so much a part of them. She’d never really had that. Even though she and her brother had been close as adults, while growing up they’d lived in two different households after their parents had divorced and hadn’t seen each other much until they had graduated from high school. “Probably the quickest way would be for me to call my father and ask him.”

  “He’d know?”

  “My dad would know every company his corporation took over and whose lives he messed up. He derived great pleasure from controlling others and was so angry at Derek when he left.”

  “Can you make that call?” Colin asked as the front doorbell rang.

  The question hung in the air between them as they listened to Grace answering the door. Emma wasn’t sure she could call her father. Her stomach clenched every time she thought of the brief encounters with her father after the accident and at the funeral.

  “I will if I have to, but let’s check out these articles further on the Internet,” Emma said as footsteps approached the den. “Maybe the newspapers they were in had other stories that might help us figure out the relationships between Derek and the Johnsons and Clay Mitchell.”

  “What relationships?” J.T. asked, entering the den.

  Emma felt Colin rise from the couch and walk toward J.T. “We’re going through some newspaper art
icles that Derek collected and kept in his desk in his apartment. It was important to my brother, so we thought it might be important to his murderer.”

  Colin again sat next to her, placing something in her lap. She felt the large leather handbag and knew it was hers. “You found my purse?”

  “A hiker discovered it on the side of the highway coming into town.”

  Emma stuck her hand inside and felt different items—her wallet, her cell phone, her makeup bag, a pen, a travel bottle of lotion.

  “Everything’s there—your credit card, several hundred dollars—so I can definitely rule out robbery. They wouldn’t have thrown it away with everything still inside untouched.”

  Emma put it on the floor by her feet. “Thanks for bringing it to me.”

  “You’re welcome. So tell me some more about these newspaper articles.”

  “Maybe you could do some checking about the people in these two articles.” The paper rustled as Colin passed the newspaper clippings to J.T. “What do you think?”

  “Let me see. Arson and a hit-and-run accident. There should be a police record. Have you two come up with anything else?”

  “A short list of people who might want to see Derek St. James dead.”

  “Can I see it?” J.T. asked, a squishing sound indicating he sat in the leather lounge chair across from the couch.

  Emma leaned back against the cushion, the throbbing in her shoulder intensifying as though reminding her of what had happened less than two weeks before. “It’s not down on paper. But there’s Alexander Sims and his niece, Alicia Harris, who happened to be dating my brother right before he died. Then there’s Jerry Lunsford, the man who caused a scene at the funeral. For that matter, Brandon McDonel and my brother had a falling out about six months ago when Derek came to New York. Neither would discuss it.”

  Colin put the articles back in their folder and stacked it on top of the other papers in the box. The clippings had been the only thing of interest in Derek’s desk. Everything else had been documents concerning his new company, which was doing very well. “You never said anything about Derek and Brandon fighting.”