The Darkest Corner

by Liliana Hart

  “Why don’t you come into the kitchen?” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to make coffee yet.”

  “Sounds good. I haven’t been home yet. There’s some flooding on the south side. Worst thing was getting Jed Larson’s cattle out of the muck. Cows are the stupidest animals I’ve ever seen. It’s a good thing they taste so good.”

  She snorted out a laugh and felt herself relax a little. If someone was hurt or in trouble, Cal wouldn’t have been making small talk. She motioned for him to follow her to the kitchen, flipping on more light switches as she went, and made her way to the coffeemaker. Tess pretty much lived on coffee, and she almost always had a pot ready for visitors.

  “You take cream and sugar?” she asked.

  “Nah, just black. I’ve got time to go home and put on dry clothes, but I’ve got to be back at the office in an hour or so. I need something that’ll keep me awake.”

  She got out the cream and sugar for herself and then grabbed two mugs from the cupboard.

  “This place sure looks different from when George owned it,” Cal said, looking around.

  “Yeah, it’s probably a good thing he’s sailing the Pacific. George hated change.”

  “He also hated spending money. George was tight as a tick, and it must’ve taken a ton to get this place looking like it does. It must be nice to have it to yourself.”

  Tess looked up at him and arched a brow. Like the rest of town, he must know about the men who lived out back. “Sometimes I get a roommate who passes through, but for the most part they’re nice and quiet.” Unless they came back from the dead and tried to grab her, she said to herself.

  Cal smiled and then said, “I don’t suppose you have a piece of toast or a biscuit you could spare. I missed dinner last night and my stomach is trying to eat itself.”

  “Sure.” She pulled a loaf of bread from the pantry and put a couple of slices in the toaster. She could make toast. Barely. Then she grabbed butter and grape jelly from the refrigerator and placed it all in front of Cal, who nodded appreciatively.

  “Okay, I can’t stand it anymore,” she finally said. She’d spent the last several minutes getting herself worked up. “I’m guessing you’re here because of Mama. I’m not bailing her out of jail again, do you hear me?” She wagged the butter knife at him and then set it down in front of him and grabbed him a plate. “She’s just going to have to do the thirty days this time and maybe she’ll learn her lesson.”

  Cal’s lips twitched and he said, “I doubt thirty days in jail will make a blip on her radar. She’d have all the cells picked clean and the items sold on eBay before we noticed, and then she’d be halfway to Oklahoma and the nearest casino before we noticed she was gone. Last time I saw her she told me to take all my savings and put it on lucky number thirty-one, because thirty-one was how old she was when she won that forty thousand dollars.”

  Tess smiled, but it was bittersweet. “Yep, the best year of her life was watching all those sevens line up in a perfect row. She never talks about how all that money was gone two days later.”

  “I’ve got to tell you. I’ve never met anyone in the world like your mama. She’s a beautiful woman, and she’s clever and persuasive. She always seems to land on her feet.”

  Tess sighed. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

  Theodora was beautiful. Her hair was a vivid red and her eyes emerald green. She wasn’t shades of pastels, as Tess tended to think of herself. Theodora was Technicolor in every way. A slightly older version of Rita Hayworth, with a little more va-va in her va-va-voom.

  “I know it’s hard,” Cal said sympathetically. “But you’re doing the best you can for her. She’s got a sickness, that’s all. Unfortunately, she’s independent and her mind is sound. The state would never intervene at this point. The best you could hope is to get her into rehab for gamblers.”

  “She won’t go to extended rehab,” she said with a sigh. “It’s a sickness that there’s no cure for. She has to want to get better. And she likes where she is just fine. There’s always someone there to bail her out. She’s somehow miraculously never managed to hit rock bottom. The judge said she just needs to keep going to therapy and she’ll get better.”

  “Does she go to therapy?” he asked.

  “Yes, but only because she’s sleeping with her therapist. I don’t know many people who can deny Theodora when she sets her mind to something.”

  Tess poured the coffee into mugs and then passed the blue one to Cal. She doctored hers with a liberal helping of cream and sugar.

  Cal winced. “You might as well be having dessert with all that sugar in there.”

  “Everything should taste like dessert,” she said. “Only way I’ll even touch a brussels sprout is if it’s wrapped in maple bacon. Whoever invented that was a genius.”

  Cal took his first sip of coffee, and it wasn’t until she saw the relief on his face from the hot drink that she realized how tired and overworked he looked. The toaster popped and she put the two pieces on his plate. They were only slightly burned around the edges, which was an improvement over the last time she’d made toast and had to use the handheld fire extinguisher under the sink.

  Cal didn’t complain. He slathered the toast in butter and jam and swallowed it down in three bites, along with the rest of his coffee. She refilled his mug for him.

  “That hits the spot,” he said, pushing back his plate. “Thank you. And I can promise you I’m not here because of Theodora. She’s been off the radar for the most part. Maybe the therapy really is working.”

  The relief that overcame Tess surprised her a bit, and she braced her hands on the counter to keep her balance. She’d been mentally preparing herself to go down to the jail and see who Theodora had stolen from so she could pay for her habit. It was a lot easier to lose other people’s money than her own. Cal’s words had taken the wind right out of her sails.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she said at last. “That’s good enough news that I’ll offer to make you a full-fledged breakfast if you’d like.”

  His eyes widened comically, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. If she screwed up toast, she couldn’t imagine the kind of damage she could do to an actual meal.

  “I’m good, thanks,” he said after a pause, and Tess had to hold back a laugh. “I’m actually here because I got a call from the sheriff’s office in Dallas County. They had a home robbery that took place a couple of hours ago. The police recovered two armed suspects who’d been tied up and left out in the rain until the authorities arrived. But one of the suspects had been shot and lost a fair amount of blood. He was mostly incoherent when the police got to him, but he kept babbling about the devils from the funeral home. The detective pieced together enough to understand that the robbers had allegedly been subdued by several men with guns and driving a black van.”

  Tess felt the color leach out of her face. “Wow.”

  “You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?” he asked. “I’d like to take a look at your van if you don’t mind.”

  She wasn’t sure why his request irked her so much. Maybe because of the way he’d phrased the question. He’d been buttering her up and was now asking questions like she was hiding some deep dark secret. And technically, maybe she was harboring a secret, since she knew they’d taken the van out and there was a dead/not dead body on her table. All she knew for sure was that she had a lot more questions than she was getting answers for.

  “Of course I don’t know anything about it,” she said, sounding properly insulted. “I told you I was just getting up for the day.”

  “You haven’t been out in the rain?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, perplexed now. “People generally don’t go out in the rain in the middle of the night.”

  “I just noticed your hair was wet, that’s all.”

  She arched a brow and felt her cheeks heat with anger. “The electricity went out, so I wasn’t able to dry my hair after my shower this mornin
g. I didn’t realize having wet hair was a punishable offense.”

  “Now, there’s no need to get that temper of yours riled up,” he said, holding up his hands. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t ask.”

  “You’ve known me my whole life, and unless I’m remembering wrong, not once have I ever been accused of taking my van out for a joyride and shooting a couple of robbers. I’m not G.I. Jane or Annie Oakley.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I see the van?” he asked.

  “I’m more than happy to show you the van when it gets back from being cleaned. They took it yesterday after Mrs. Schriever was dropped off from the hospital. The inside was a mess after all the rain we’ve been having.”

  The lie flew off her tongue before she even knew what hit her. Good grief, what in the world was wrong with her? She was lying to a man of the law. And by the way he was looking at her, she wondered if he knew it. But she’d be darned if he was going to come into her house and accuse her of a crime she didn’t commit.

  She had no reason in the world to cover up for Deacon Tucker or any of the others, but that’s exactly what she was doing. One stupid kiss and her sense had gone right out the window.

  “When was the last time you saw your employees?”

  She shrugged and went back for a second cup of coffee. She could already tell it was going to be one of those days.

  “I brought Mrs. Schriever back about two thirty yesterday. Deacon and Colin were both here to help me unload. I didn’t see anyone after that because I was embalming Mrs. Schriever. I didn’t get finished until close to six.”

  “What about after?”

  “Well, golly gee, Cal,” she said, her eyes wide with sarcasm, “I washed the scent of formaldehyde from my body and then we had a giant orgy.”

  He scowled and stared into his cup. “There’s no need to be snippy, Tess. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Chush’ sobach’ya.”

  “I’ve heard your granny say that before,” he said. “So I know it’s not very nice.” Cal finished off his coffee and then took his mug to the sink to rinse it out.

  He was right, but she didn’t figure it was in her best interest to tell him he was full of shit. At least in English.

  “I noticed you’re favoring your wrist,” he said, changing the subject. “You made the coffee and got the mugs out with your left hand. I thought you were always right-handed in school.”

  “I had a run-in with a heavy piece of equipment,” she answered automatically, drawing the aforementioned wrist in tighter to her body. “The equipment won.”

  “If it’s bothering you that much, you might ought to swing by Doc Carlisle’s before things get too busy around here. Might be broken. Your fingers are looking a little swollen.”

  Since Doc Carlisle was the biggest quack in a hundred-mile radius, she wouldn’t be paying him a visit if her wrist was dangling by no more than a thread of skin.

  “It’s fine. Just a sprain. I’ve got a brace I can put on it upstairs.”

  “You remind me a lot of your granny,” he said with a sigh. “She’s got a head hard as a rock too.”

  “Thank you.” And she sincerely meant it. Her grandmother was a hell of a woman. Being compared to her was a million times better than the alternative of being likened to her mother.

  “Let me know when that van gets back. I’d still like to take a look at it.”

  Damned man was tenacious as a bulldog. She tried to hide her scowl behind her cup.

  His lips quirked in half a smile before he said, “Anyone ever tell you you don’t hide your feelings very well?”

  “It’s my stupid red-headed complexion,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “And probably the fact that everything you’re thinking appears right across your face. You probably shouldn’t ever play poker.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Since cards are out, how about dinner?”

  She’d just taken a sip of coffee, so when the question finally penetrated her brain, she tried to suck in a breath at the same time she was swallowing. It didn’t work out all that well and sent her into a fit of coughing.

  Tess pounded on her chest and prayed coffee didn’t come out of her nose. It was sixth grade all over again.

  “That wasn’t really the reaction I was hoping for,” Cal said, his voice amused.

  Her eyes were watering and she knew her face was probably blotchy. She wasn’t a pretty crier. “No,” cough,cough. “Sorry,” cough. “You just took me by surprise.”

  It’s like she’d started the day in an alternate universe. She hadn’t been on a date since Henry left. Now all of a sudden it was raining men, and the sun had barely risen.

  “I guess I’ve been out of the game too long,” he said. “I think people text stuff like that these days.”

  “And they probably don’t treat the person like a suspect first,” she said. “You might want to work on your timing.”

  “Right,” he said. “Perks of the job. It always comes first.”

  “Also probably not something you want to tell a woman before you ask her out. They tend to not want to be second in a man’s life.”

  “Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “Never did understand women.”

  “Good luck with that. The good news is you’ve still got lots of time to learn. You’re still in your prime. And Clarice Grabel says you’re real good in bed, so there’s that too.”

  Cal sighed and pushed up from the table. “I knew that one was a mistake.”

  She nodded sagely. “We all make them. But at least the gossip is positive instead of negative. I’m sure your street cred has gone up tremendously since you made your mistake with her.”

  “You’re a nice woman, Tess Sherman. Try to stay out of trouble, and make sure you’re not making any mistakes of your own. I’ll show myself out.” He paused on his way out of the room. “No hard feelings, right, Tess?”

  “We’re good.”

  “I’ll be back to check the van later.”

  She scowled and heard the front door close softly. “I guess that could’ve gone a lot worse,” she said, freshening her cup. “Of course, it could’ve gone a lot better too.”

  And now she was afraid things would be awkward between them from now on. Cal had never once shown an inkling of interest toward her, and she’d never seen him as anything but an authority figure. She couldn’t even figure out if she could have those kinds of feelings for him. He was attractive, sure, but he’d always just kind of . . . been there.

  At least he hadn’t said anything about a missing body. She wasn’t sure she could’ve lied her way out of that one, even knowing the body wasn’t really dead.

  Now all she had to do was wait until the mystery man woke up, so she could get to work. Or she could hunt down Deacon and demand answers, especially since she’d just lied to a cop for him.

  And maybe he would kiss her again.

  “No,” she said. “No, no, no.”

  Her mama wasn’t right about much, but she was right about one thing. Men made women do stupid things.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Deacon ran the three miles through the tunnel, ignoring how the walls closed in on him. How his lungs tightened and fear crept in like a shroud of blackness, making him light-headed. He focused on his breathing—in and out—in and out—and not on how his legs felt like jelly or how his heart pounded painfully in his chest.

  He tortured himself the same way every day. Three miles underground until he reached the end and used the ladder to climb out, and then lie flat on his back as he gulped in breaths of fresh air. The cool mud seeped into his clothes and the rain chilled his overheated flesh. His eyes were sensitive to the daylight, so he kept his eyes closed.

  They owned the abandoned lake property, and there was no danger of others seeing him there. So he lay there and let the seconds tick down in his head while his heartbeat slowed and the blackness ebbed away.

  He allowed himself exactly four minu
tes to lie there before dropping back into the tunnel and starting the three-mile trek back to the house. Maybe someday he’d be able to make it in each direction without having to stop and remind himself he wasn’t dying. He’d made a lot of progress in two years. But there were some things—some horrors—that stuck with a man forever. And the day he died and rose again was his perpetual nightmare.

  The last mile was always the hardest, when he was so close to the end but the urge to quit rose up inside of him. By the time he reached the door and coded himself back into the carriage house, he’d broken out in a cold sweat and his hands were shaking. But they weren’t shaking as bad as they had been the day before. Or the day before that.

  A cold blast of air hit him when he entered the kitchen and Axel was sitting at the table, his iPad in his hands and a cup of coffee within arm’s reach. He quickly blanked the screen when he saw Deacon, but Deacon pretended like he didn’t see it and went to the fridge for a bottle of water, guzzling it down in one long gulp.

  The kitchen was large and built family-style, though it was rare for all of them to be in it at the same time. They were all solitary by nature, and had their own habits and ways of doing things. But he’d lived in worse places, and no one could say that Eve Winter didn’t provide for the men who owed her servitude.

  The kitchen was bright and airy and extremely modern, which Deacon didn’t particularly care for, but it was more than functional. The floor was big slabs of stained concrete and the walls were a horizontal wood paneling. The appliances were stainless steel and oversized, and every dish in the cabinet was white. Once a week several boxes were delivered that contained groceries for the week. They all foraged for themselves since no one was much good in the kitchen, and Tess was even worse, so there was no use trying to bum a meal off her.

  The kitchen was in the back corner of the house and looked out onto a courtyard garden protected by an eight-foot stone privacy fence. There was a fountain and a couple of benches hidden between shrubs and flowering bushes, and more often than not it was the most likely place to find Axel at the end of the day, just as the sun was going down.