Denouement (The Darkness Series Book 3)

by Brightmore, Cassia

  “Shit.” He ripped open the steering column and got to work hot-wiring the car. It had been years since he’d had to do it and he was rusty, but like most things—it was like riding a bike. He almost had it when the door to the house opened and three guards emerged, armed. He knew he’d been spotted when they immediately headed for the Hummer. He started to sweat, making his fingers slippery on the wires. “Goddamn it, come on!”

  One guard reached the driver side door and Gabe kicked with his feet, catching him on the chin before he raised the rifle and blew him away. He went back to the wires and this time the engine roared to life, just as the other two opened fire on the Hummer. He ducked and threw the vehicle in reverse as bullets pummeled the car. Keeping his head as low as possible, he spun the steering wheel to the left and the car angled right at them with the open door the perfect window he needed. A few shots left them dead on the ground and Gabe wasted no time slamming the door shut and driving the hell away from his nightmare.

  He wasn’t surprised to see how close he was to home. After twenty-five minutes of driving, he pulled up to the ranch and cut the engine. It looked exactly how he remembered it, not much had changed at all. Climbing out of the car, he headed towards the main house, ignoring the calls of greeting from the ranch hands that knew him. A few steps from the porch he heard raised voices coming from inside the house and he hurried to open the door and get inside in case Nora was in trouble. He found her locked in a shouting match with Marcus, who looked angry and menacing as he got in Nora’s face. She was backing away a few steps in surrender, her hands coming up to ward him off.

  Furious that Marcus might have harmed her, Gabe stepped forward and let the door slam closed behind him. They both turned their heads at the sound and froze. Nora’s mouth widened in shock and her hand covered her heart. Marcus looked even more angry if that was possible and he swore in frustration.

  Gabe stared at both of them, torn between wanting to yank Nora into his arms and stab Marcus in the balls. He did neither, they were all locked to their spots, unsure of what to do. Gabe spoke first.

  “I’m back.”

  * * *

  West had been sitting in the interview room for what felt like hours. He’d spent three days in a cell not knowing what the fuck was going on. No one spoke to him or even let him have the chance to make a phone call. He was going out of his mind with worry for Aubrey and replaying every second since the murders started trying to figure out how the fuck Autumn’s things ended up in his house.

  That morning, one of the deputies came to get him and brought him to this room where’d he’d been cooling his heels ever since. In reality, it’d only been about twenty minutes since he’d been brought in there, but it felt like a lifetime.

  The door opened and Brady, Sheriff Moore and a woman he didn’t recognize came in. She had short blonde hair and was dressed in a no-nonsense navy blue suit with a white blouse. West could only assume she was the FBI.

  Nobody spoke for a moment, the tension crackling in the air. Finally, Brady spoke up. “West, this is Agent Beth Taylor with the FBI. She’s in charge of the investigation.”

  “Hi. Will someone tell me just what the fuck is going on around here? You keep me locked in a cell for days with no explanation, denying me of my rights. Aubrey. Please, just tell me if she’s alright,” he pleaded.

  “She’s fine,” Sheriff Moore answered. “In cases of suspected terrorism, we have the right to deny you access to a phone or any outside contact. You know that better than anyone, West,” he reminded him.

  “Terrorism? You think I’m a fucking terrorist?” he burst out, trying to gain his feet. His hands were cuffed to the table which prevented him from doing so, turning his face red with anger.

  “No. We don’t think you are a terrorist, Lieutenant Hunt. We have protocols in place for a reason that we have followed. At this point, though, you have been ruled out as a suspect due to lack of physical evidence. What we’ve collected at each scene, none of it points to you. In fact, the only thing that tied you to this investigation was an anonymous phone call and the evidence found in your home. Which we now believe was planted in order to throw us off,” Agent Taylor explained.

  “Planted? You’re saying someone is trying to frame me?” It was ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as thinking he was responsible for all of these gruesome acts. The blackouts crossed his mind and he froze.

  Brady noticed his expression and put his hands on the table, leaning forward. “What is it, West? Did you remember something? It’s okay, tell me.”

  West met Brady’s eyes. The eyes of the man that had slapped bracelets on his wrist and hauled him into the station without a moment’s hesitation, eager to believe he was a stone-cold killer. That he would kill the sister of the woman he lov—

  Where did that thought come from? He loved Aubrey? No, he couldn’t, it was too soon for him to be opening his heart up to anyone. Besides, she deserved so much better than him after what she’d been through.

  “Nothing,” he answered, not trusting Brady. “I don’t know a damn thing about any of this except what I’ve learned myself,” he averted his gaze from Brady. “And what you’ve just told me now. Can I please go? I want to check on Aubrey myself and I’d like to see if I still have a job to go back to now that you’ve ruined my reputation.”

  Agent Taylor held up her hand, she had an air of authority and expected her simple command for him to wait to be obeyed without question. “Not so fast. We will clear your name, Lieutenant. Do not doubt that. But first, we need your help. If the killer really has tried to frame you, we need to make him think that it’s working. We want to make him think we’re so focused on you that we’ve stopped looking for him, when in fact we’ll be doing the opposite.”

  “So you want me to sit down there in that godforsaken cell while you three go gallivanting around town shouting from the rooftops that you’ve caught the Matchstick Man? No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

  Agent Taylor huffed in annoyance at his explanation. “That’s not what I was getting at. You’ll be free to go. We insist on it, in fact. We want the killer to have a visual on you, on what the weight of being a suspect is doing to you and of us hounding and pursuing you as our best lead in this case. The more he sees of that, the less he will see us coming for him from a different angle.”

  West sat back in his chair and considered his options. If they let him go, he’d be able to see Aubrey and keep her safe himself. But his reputation would be in tatters and going anywhere in town would be a nightmare. On the other hand, if he didn’t accept their offer, he had no doubt they’d find a way to put him back in his cell and still carry out their plans of acting like he was the main suspect. At least with option one, he’d be able to keep an eye on Aubrey.

  “I have one condition,” he announced. The three looked at each other and then Agent Taylor gave a nod.

  “Alright, what is it, West?” Brady asked.

  “Tell Aubrey. You tell her that I’m not a suspect in her sister’s murder. In any of these murders. She will keep it quiet as justice for Autumn is her number one priority. But you tell her the truth or I’ll find a way to leak it myself.”

  “Done. I’ll take care of it,” Brady said.

  “Sheriff James you are not calling the shots here,” Agent Taylor argued, angry that he’d agreed without her consent.

  “I know that, but West is right and you know it too. Besides, Aubrey deserves this. She deserves to know a man she was involved with didn’t murder her sister. We are going to give her at least that much peace. It’s the least we can do.”

  The room fell silent and the terms of the agreement were set.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  West, Brady and Agent Taylor all arrived at Aubrey’s house together. Sam and Theo were there with her since Nora, Greta and the children had left to go home to the ranch the day before. Nora had been reluctant to leave Aubrey so soon after what happened, but there were pressing things that needed her attention an
d with Gabe nowhere to be found, she had no choice.

  She’d promised to be back by the following week at the latest, despite Aubrey’s protests that she was fine. They both knew she wasn’t fine. West’s arrest had torn the last strip of her defense against the pain clean off her. To think that he had done this, he’d murdered her sister and all those other people—it was devastating to say the least. The connection they had was more real, more primal and passionate than anything she’d felt before; she didn’t want to think that it’d all been a lie. A misconception of the worst kind. That the man she lov—wait, no. She didn’t love him did she? No, no, she didn’t. That was just some misplaced emotion talking. She didn’t love him. She didn’t.

  When she opened the door to them, her eyes zeroed in on West’s right away. His gaze was filled with tenderness and concern as he looked her over from head to toe as if desperate to see if she was in one piece. She kept her face neutral as she looked at him, not letting any emotion into her eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  The FBI agent answered, taking charge. “Ms. Sinclair, please may we come in? We don’t want to be spotted if possible.”

  Aubrey stepped back hastily. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, please come in.” They entered the small hallway and Brady led them to the dining room where they all took a seat.

  Sam and Theo surfaced from the living room where they’d been watching some sort of sports game. Aubrey had been trying to find the courage to drive over to Autumn’s apartment to begin the painstaking process of packing up her things.

  “Ms. Sinclair,” Agent Taylor began, but Aubrey interrupted her.

  “Please call me Aubrey. It has less of a reminder of…” Agent Taylor nodded in complete understanding and sympathy.

  “Aubrey, we’re here today at West’s request. We need his assistance on the case and his condition before agreeing was that we come and speak with you first.”

  “His assistance?” Aubrey repeated. “But I thought…well I didn’t actually believe it, if I’m being honest, but I heard…”

  “Yes we know what you heard and that brings me to my point. We need you to keep acting like that’s what you believe. We need the entire town to think that way. Upon further investigation, we have cleared West as a suspect in this case. We believe he’s been framed by the killer and we want to use that to our advantage to smoke this bastard out. Now, Aubrey, this is highly classified information. It’s quite unorthodox for me to share anything of this nature with you, but this case isn’t your usual case and sometimes you have to break the rules to win the war. It’s imperative that you not share this news with anyone. To do so would hinder everything we are trying to do to find justice for Autumn and the other victims.”

  Aubrey flinched at the mention of her sister’s name and West’s hands tightened into fists. It was killing him not to take her into her arms and offer her the comfort she so clearly needed. Her hair was in a frizzy mess around her shoulders, her clothes hanging off her showcasing the weight she’d lost. She’d had precious little of it left to lose and she looked even tinier, if possible. The sadness was there behind her eyes, but she hid it well with a closed off exterior. Just looking at her broke his heart.

  “I understand, Agent. I will go along with anything that will help apprehend the person responsible. You can trust me.”

  Agent Taylor smiled. “Thank you, Aubrey.” She glanced at Brady. “We better get him back to his place before anyone sees us here. Small town and all.”

  Aubrey walked them to the front door following directly behind West. The urge to reach out and touch his shoulder was strong, but she resisted.

  Agent Taylor opened the door and West suddenly spun and pulled her against him, cradling her head against his chest. Agent Taylor started to protest but Brady shooed her out the door. “Just give them a minute alone, he’ll be right out.”

  “I missed you,” West breathed into her hair. “I was so worried about you and so damn angry that they thought I had something to do with this.” He pulled back to meet her gaze. “Aubrey, I would never—”

  “Shhh, shh, I know that. I never believed it, West. I just knew you’d never have a hand in this. That the man I love would never commit such treacherous acts,” she reassured him. He was staring at her, his mouth slightly agape and Aubrey realized what she said. “I mean. No. I didn’t. I don’t. Well what I was trying to say is—” His lips crashed down on hers and he pulled her up to her tip toes as he slanted his mouth over hers.

  “I love you too, sweets. So much. I don’t know how or when it happened, but it’s the truth and I won’t take it back.”

  “I don’t want you to,” she whispered and laid her head on his chest once more. West pulled back after a few moments.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he told her and then he was gone.

  * * *

  Mila entered the warehouse fully enraged and looking for an outlet. “Goddamn motherfucker!” she screamed out. The man came out of the back office carrying her son and seeing the two of them made her even angrier. “Put him down!” she shouted. “No son of mine will be coddled. He can walk for fuck’s sake. What kind of a pussy ass man are you trying to turn him into?!”

  The man quickly obeyed and Dane tottered off, excited to see what mischief he could get into now that he was free.

  “You fucking fucked up again. I can’t believe I ever put my trust in you. You can’t even follow simple fucking instructions!” she raged.

  “I don’t understand,” he answered, confusion written all over his face. “I did exactly as you instructed. I took the librarian and blew up the theater at exactly the right time. I don’t understand what went wrong.”

  “You took the wrong girl, you dumbass!”

  The man was completely perplexed. “No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mila. I took the librarian, I assure you.”

  “Ugh, you’re useless!” she threw her hands up in the air. “They are twins. They fucking fooled you, fooled everyone that day by switching clothes. You took Autumn, not Aubrey. You failed once again.”

  The man was shocked and infuriated. It wasn’t true, was it? Pure hatred and rage filled him. He’d been outsmarted and made to look lacking once again. His skills called into question, dirt thrown onto his abilities. The bombing was supposed to be his redemption; a way to showcase just what he was capable of. Now it was all ruined. Because of them.

  “Get your ass to Durham Heights and execute the next phase of the plan. And so help me, if you fuck this up…”

  “There will be no mistakes.” He left the warehouse without another word. By the time he pulled his non-descript car into the back alleyway of Earl’s in Durham Heights, Louisiana, he was seething with rage. If that little red head was in front of him at that moment, he would have snapped her neck and not even bothered with anytime to play with her. For now, he had to settle with taking his frustrations out on this place. Mila wanted a distraction and a way to send a message to the investigators that they weren’t going to win this time. Taking the gas can from the backseat, he got to work building his life-size fire pit.

  When he was finished, he took the box of matches from his pocket and pulled one out, striking the flame. He looked in the window of the diner, noting the elderly woman at the cash register and the few patrons scattered throughout the establishment. He wondered briefly who his victims would be and wished he had more time to play a game of x’s and o’s. He sighed and dropped the match behind him as he backed away, enjoyment spreading through him as he watched the flame grow. Mila may have knocked him down a peg or two, but she’d never be able to take the power of the flame from him. Now to sit back and watch the entertainment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “If you don’t give me something plausible right this fucking second, I’m going splatter what’s left of your worthless existence all over this wall.” Brady had a gun to Mila’s head. Gwyn had been missing a week. A week that he wasn’t in Durham Heights looking for her
himself because he was trapped in Stockton Crossing playing Mila’s fucking game.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered. “If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when I first contacted you and told you where I was. You don’t have the balls to shoot me, Brady. And you don’t want to.”

  He gripped her hair and flipped the safety off. “Don’t fucking test me. Remember, no one knows I’m here. No one knows you’re here. I can kill you sixteen different ways and no one will fucking care. So you tell me, do you think I have the balls, Mila?”

  Mila paled and for the first time, her composure faltered. Just when he thought that she would spill the information, her cool mask slipped back down.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you where Lawrence is holding Gwyn. But it comes at a high price. You need to make a choice, Brady. I can either tell you who’s responsible for these murders, or I can tell you where to find Gwyn. So you tell me,” she spat his words back at him. “What’s more important here, Brady? Your little waitress or the potential innocent lives lost if you can’t find him in time?”

  * * *

  Gwyn opened her one good eye and groaned. Her right eye was still swollen shut, her punishment for asking for a second glass of water. Being away from Lawrence for so long, she’d forgotten his rules. It’d been a week from hell, trapped with him in the basement of some house. She knew she was still in Durham Heights as he’d had her do the driving on the day he dragged her from the home she shared with Brady. Each day, he got more violent and more out of control. There wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t black or blue from bruises.

  Her arm was broken, but so far, that was the only limb. He fluctuated between allowing her to have a sling to alleviate some of the pain and ripping it off when he was in a temper. As she looked around the large basement, the last thing she remembered was him burning holes in the skin of her bare legs with the end of his cigarette. It was a game he’d loved to play before and she still carried several small white scars from those past beatings.