14 Christmas Spirit (7 page)

"So you told her not to walk away from you," Jon guessed.

"Well, sure I did," Blair said.  "She can't just wander off like that.  I told her I needed to know what was wrong but she told me not to worry about it.  The more I pressed her, the angrier she got, and then she was yelling at me to leave her alone, and I yelled back that…that…it doesn't matter what I said.  I said some things.  That's all.  She always makes me so mad.  She knows just how to do it.  I was yelling, I admit it, but she makes me so mad!  I told her she has to treat me better.  Then she left.  She always leaves when I yell, but she comes back."

Curling up tighter, she began rocking in the chair.  "She always comes back."

Jon caught Darcy's eye and nodded toward Blair.  That was her cue.

Kneeling down on the floor, Darcy took ahold of Blair's hands, smiling reassuringly.  She startled, looking at Darcy in confusion.  "What are you doing?"

"It's all right," Darcy told her.  "I just wanted you to know how sorry I am this happened to you."

Even as she was saying the words Darcy concentrated on reaching out with her sixth sense.  She controlled her breathing, in and out and in again.  In.  Out.  In again, and hold it.  Heat seeped out of her fingertips and across Blair's skin.  Her energy sought out the stains of blood that would become visible to her mind's eye if Blair had committed murder.

If Blair had killed Megan, Darcy would be able to see the ghostly stain of it on her hands.

When she looked, there was nothing there.

Blair's hands were clean.

"Yeah, well, thanks I guess," Blair said, totally unaware of what Darcy had just done.  She pulled her hands away, flexing the fingers like she'd felt a static shock spark between her and Darcy, but that was the only indication that she had felt anything.  "I'm not looking for your sympathy, I'm just looking for the cops to find Megan.  Who are you, anyway?"

Jon stood up, and took Darcy gently by the arm to help her up with him.  "She's a consultant we use on special cases like this one.  Miss Clinton, I'm going to be working on this all day today so if you happen to think of anything you feel I should know, please call the precinct and have them contact me, all right?"

Blair pressed her lips tightly together and nodded.  "Sure.  I'll call if I hear from Megan, too.  I've been sitting here by the phone, every day, just waiting.  Just in case.  Don't you think that's a good idea?"

Jon's reply was just a bit too long in coming.  "Yes.  That's a good idea.  Call me if you hear from her."

It was hard to give Blair the reassurance she was looking for, Darcy reflected, when she and Jon both knew Megan was dead.

"Do you think she did it?"

They had left Blair's house less than five minutes ago, and Darcy could tell that Jon had been bursting to ask that question the whole time.  It was the same question she'd been turning over in her own mind.  "I didn't see any blood on her hands.  Whatever she's done in her life, she certainly isn't harboring any guilt over it."

"Which doesn't mean she didn't do it," Jon said.

"Right.  It just means she doesn't feel guilty about it if she did."

That was how that technique worked.  If she saw blood appear on someone's hands, it meant they had committed some kind of crime in their life that weighed on their conscience.  It meant they felt guilty for what they had done.  Not a perfect method, to be sure, because people forgave themselves for a lot. 

Still…

"What about you?  Do you think Blair did it?" she asked him.

He shook his head as they made the turn back onto Main Street.  "No.  I really don't.  Her answers were honest, if a little hostile.  All of her emotions felt genuine.  Neither of us mentioned Megan being dead, and Blair kept saying that she thought Megan was coming back to her.  So for now, we'll put her pretty low on the list of suspects.  Maybe even behind Nielson."

"Because we're looking for someone who knows Megan is dead," Darcy summed up.

"Right.  I guess in this case we caught a break, knowing the victim was dead right out of the gate.  I also think there was more to that little walk in the park that Blair told us about."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when she was talking about the argument that she and Megan had, she said they were walking through the park and Megan just stopped.  She even said Megan turned white as a sheet.  I know what that sounds like to me."

Darcy had heard that, too, and she had come to the same conclusion.  "You think that Megan saw someone in the park and it scared her."

"Right.  It fits in with what we got from Nielson.  Megan came here from another town.  Blair, good girlfriend that she is, kept Megan isolated from almost everyone here in Misty Hollow," he said with a sarcastic twist to his lip.  Good girlfriends didn't isolate the one they loved.  "So who did Megan see?  Who would have upset her that much?  No one from here, that's what I think."

They were pulling up into one of the parking spaces in the lot next to the police station.  Darcy thought it through.  What Jon was saying made sense.  The mystery thickens, as they say.  "She sees someone who scares her, she knows she's in trouble, so she goes to Nielson for a gun, and then she disappears.  I'm starting to see the picture, but where does it lead?"

"That," he said, "is what we need to find out.  So, let's try to get a couple of things done this afternoon.  One, we'll talk to Nielson again before the Sheriff's deputies get here to transport him to the county jail.  We'll ask him what Megan had to say about it.  Next, depending on what we get from Nielson, we can try to drive out and talk to Megan's parents."

"I don't know, Jon," Darcy said, checking the clock on the dash against the time on her watch.  "That's a long drive.  We might have to leave that for tomorrow.  Besides, if there's any truth to what Blair said about Megan's parents hating them being together, isn't it just possible that it was her parents she saw?  Maybe even her parents who took her?"

Jon chewed that over for a moment.  "The parents take Megan, hoping to talk some sense into her, or whatever, and then something goes wrong and she ends up dead?"

"That's pretty much what I was thinking.  We've seen worse motives for murder."

"Maybe," he admitted with a shrug.  "We'll see.  Let's start with Nielson."

"Do you really think he'll tell us anything?" Darcy had to wonder.

"Probably not.  But it can't hurt to ask."

Leaning across the seats he pressed his lips to her cheek, holding the back of her head to keep her close for a moment longer than the kiss lasted.

It was when they got out of the car that they noticed someone standing there, waiting and watching.

The woman was a year or two older than Darcy even though her pretty face didn't necessarily show it.  Her dark hair had grown longer since Darcy had seen her last, resting in tight curls on the shoulders of her puffy white coat.  She still had her makeup applied with an artist's touch, and her dark eyes were still as piercing as Darcy remembered.  She was the very picture of a television news reporter.

"Hi there, Detective Tinker," Brianna Watson said with a cheery voice and the flash of a winning smile.  "Got a quote for me?"

Jon closed the car door tightly, then made sure it was locked.  Twice.  "Miss Watson.  You know I'm always happy to help the press, but I don't have anything interesting enough for a quote going on right now."

"That's not what I hear," Brianna said, lifting an eyebrow.  "You've got another case on your hands, from what I hear."

Darcy couldn't hide her surprise.  How would Brianna know that?  Then she remembered the last time she'd had a run in with Brianna.  The woman was definitely resourceful.

"Just a missing person case," Jon told Brianna, somehow keeping his tight smile in place.  "Not very exciting.  If you like, I can let you know all about it when we find our man."

"You mean woman, don't you?"  Brianna took out a little notebook from the pocket of her jacket, a close double of the one Jon carried.  She leafed through the first few pages.  "Megan Bortchowski.  Age twenty-seven, originally from Cider Hill.  Now, deceased."

She looked up from her notes with the smug expression of someone who knows more than they should.  "Hiya Darcy.  How've you been?  Guess if you're helping the police out with this one then it must be important.  Any buildings going to burn down this time?"

Darcy didn't know what to say.  Brianna had her all flustered with just a few words.  She knew she should lie, but lying really wasn't something she was good at.  She decided the less she said, the better.  "Nice to see you, too, Brianna.  I hear the television job is going well for you."

"Sure is," Brianna responded brightly.  "I've even got an exec from the networks talking to me.  You might see me on the national news one of these days.  Especially if I keep getting stories like this out of Misty Hollow.  This place is turning into the weirdness capital of the United States.  That whole fire at the Town Hall thing last Halloween?  Wow.  Pure gold.  My producers loved it."

Darcy looked down the street from where she was.  The spot where the old Town Hall had stood had been cleared out already, and a new basement put in, but the rest of the work had been put off until Spring due to the recent snowfalls.  Helen was doing her mayor duties out of her house for now, and the town meetings had been held in the park until this month.  She guessed that was something else they'd have to put off until Spring.  She frowned at the memory of being inside the Hall as it burned down over her head.  Not something she was likely to forget.

Especially if Brianna Watson kept bringing it up.

"Oh, come on," Brianna said to her, reading Darcy's expression.  "You've got nothing to be embarrassed about.  The fire was ruled accidental, after all, and you came away looking like a hero for helping to save Mayor Helen Nelson's life."

"Plus," Jon added, "reporting on it got you some of the highest ratings your program's ever had, from what I heard."

"You bet."  Brianna tossed her hair back over her shoulder as she said it, a note of pride in her voice.  "I've always been good at what I do.  You two are good at what you do, too, which is why I'm sure your Chief didn't call you in on a weekend to hunt down someone's missing girlfriend.  I'm sure there's more to it.  Tell you what.  I'll come back tomorrow sometime, and we can all sit down for some coffee and discuss what I'm going to tell our viewers, all right?  You and me and Darcy."

"I'm not sure I'll have the time tomorrow," Jon protested.

Brianna affected a pout.  "Well, then I'll just have to tell my viewers what I know already.  Gee, I sure hope it's right.  I'd hate to spread baseless rumors when you could set the record straight with just a few words."

With one last smile, she walked away up the street, whistling as she went.

"I really don't like that woman," Jon said after she was gone.  "If she goes on the air and declares this a murder case, that ruins the only advantage we have.  Right now, we're the only ones who know this is murder, other than the killer.  If she ruins this for us…  Yeah.  I really don't like her."

"She's not that bad, really, once you get to know her," Darcy told him.

"Oh, really?  And just when did you get the chance to know Brianna Watson?"

"During the Vivica Chartrand case."

His expression was unreadable, but Darcy knew him well enough to know he was thinking about everything that happened after they had solved the Chartrand murder.  How he'd left and broken off their relationship, saying he needed to work some things out.

Darcy took his hand, squeezing it gently.  It wasn't that none of that bothered her, but it was done now.  Over.  It was a part of their past that only made them stronger.  All that mattered was that he was with her now, and that they would be together forever.  She couldn't wait to start her new life as Mrs. Darcy Tinker.

Hmm.  Maybe she'd just stay Darcy Sweet.

Relaxing visibly, Jon swung his hand in hers and walked them to the door of the police station.  "Let's get in and interview Nielson quickly, and get this figured out.  I really don't like the idea of Brianna Watson, reporter extraordinaire, being around any more than she has to."

"I don't think she'll report anything we ask her not to, Jon."

"There's no way she knows Megan is dead.  She might suspect it, and she might have been looking for us to accidentally confirm it, so she could get the story she's looking for.  I think we convinced her it's still a missing person case.  That's not what I'm worried about, though."

He held the door open for her and they went inside.  Darcy waved at Sergeant Fitzwallis, sitting at the front desk again, before lowering her voice to a whisper.  "I don't understand.  What are you worried about Brianna finding out?"

He looked at her with a sigh.  "Did you forget we're harboring a fugitive in our home?"

The two interview rooms of the Misty Hollow police station were bare spaces of soundproofing and one-way mirrors.  There was one metal table in the center of the room with a security ring on the top to hook suspect's handcuffs to.  Two chairs on either sides of the table.  A security camera to record interviews.  Nothing else.

It was a space designed to break a suspect down and make them realize there was nothing between them and the truth but the police officer asking them questions.

Or in this case, the questions being asked by a certain paranormal consultant of the police.

"You already got my stuff, man," Nielson said, slumping back against his seat on one side of the table.  His eyes were sunken.  He was wearing the same clothes that he'd had on when Shane and Blake had dragged him out of his apartment in handcuffs, which meant he was still in his socks.  All in all, he was a pretty pathetic figure.

"We need to ask you a few more questions," Jon said to him, sitting next to Darcy across from Nielson.  "Are you sure you don't want a lawyer here?"

"What for?"  He went to spread his hands only to have the cuffs he was wearing yank against the chain through the security ring.  "You guys found my drugs right there in my apartment.  Not like I can deny what happened."

"All right.  Then tell us about when Megan was at your place a few days ago."

"I already told you."

"Humor me," Jon pressed.

Nielson nodded nervously.  "Three days ago.  Wednesday.  She shows up out of the blue after blowing me off for…her.  Then she comes to cry on my shoulder."

Darcy made mental notes as Nielson spoke.  Megan was at his apartment three days ago.  He obviously wasn't thrilled about it, either.  "Megan told you she had argued with Blair?"

"Yup," Nielson said.  "That's what brought her my way.  I wish she'd just kept walking, tell you the truth."

"Did she say what the argument was about?"

"I don't know," he answered with a shrug.  "Chick stuff.  Who knows what two girls argue about."

Biting her lip to keep from saying something sarcastic, Darcy tried again.  "Did she tell you if she had seen anyone in the park?"

Nielson stared at her blankly.  "I don't understand."

"In the park where she and Blair argued," Jon said.  "Did Megan say whether she saw anyone in the park?"

"Uh, no?  I mean, no, she didn't.  She didn't even tell me where they argued.  Just that she and Blair had been in a bad fight and she had to get away."

Darcy felt let down.  It looked like their line of questioning was going to dead end.  It was Jon who saw the opening she missed.

"That was how she said it?" he asked.  "That she had to get away?  Just like that?"

"Man, I don't know," Nielson complained.  "That was three days ago.  I've been high like twenty times since then.  How'm I supposed to remember exactly what she said."

Jon leaned forward on his elbows, his fingers steepled and pointed at Nielson.  "Try," he suggested.

Swallowing hard, his lip trembling, Nielson took a few moments to search his memory.  "Yes.  That was what she said.  She said she needed to get away."

"Not that she needed to get away for a while?  Not that she needed to get away from Blair?"

Nielson thought again.  "Yeah, man.  Just that she needed to get away."

"And you gave her a gun?"

This time Nielson's mouth clapped shut.

"Look, Mister Daye," Jon said, folding his arms down on the table, making himself less threatening.  "I've already told you.  I can't arrest you for something you say you've done without any proof.  You could tell me you assassinated President Kennedy, and I couldn't arrest you for it just on your say so.  Now, tell me why Megan wanted a gun."

"Why should I?"

Darcy hadn't expected that.  Apparently, Nielson had found a little of his backbone again.

"Because," she told him, knowing that all the threats in the world wouldn't make him open up about this, "we're trying to help Megan.  You know we are.  And I know, even though you're angry and upset with her, you want to help her too.  This will help her.  You need to trust us."

His eyes wavered, and he cleared his throat more than once before looking at Darcy directly.  "You're sure this will help her?"

"I really am, Nielson."

Then he looked at Jon.  "And you're promising me, like really promising me as a cop, that you won't arrest me for anything that happened with that gun?"

"I'll put it in writing for you if you want," Jon told him.

He nodded, looking down at his hands again, playing the short chain of his handcuffs back and forth through the metal ring on the table top.  He was quiet for so long that Darcy thought maybe they had misjudged their approach and that they weren't going to be able to get Nielson to talk about the gun, but then finally, he drew a deep breath.

"Okay.  Okay, look.  I don't make a habit of handing my guns out to people.  I've only got a few myself and plus I don't want any trouble coming down on me if someone gets stupid with them and, like, shoots someone.  Only, Megan was so scared.  She begged me, crying and talking about how she didn't know who else to trust.  I had to do something to help her, didn't I?"

"That's what good friends do," Darcy said, hoping to keep Nielson talking.

"Right!  Right, that's what good friends do.  So I was being a good friend to Megan.  God knows she was a lousy girlfriend, man.  To me, I mean.  'Cause, she was like, not really into guys I guess.  Whatever.  So, she comes to me, and she's scared to death, man.  She said someone was after her.  Someone was going to, like, hurt her.  She couldn't tell Blair about it and she didn't have anyone else.  Since she and I had hooked up when she first came to Misty Hollow she knew me, you know?  And it was good, like while it lasted.  She knew the kinds of things I was into and that I could get a gun…"

Nielson ran out of words, and then sat there, just breathing and thinking about the past.

"It's why she left me," he said after a long moment.  "Because she couldn't stand the things I was into.  The drugs, the trouble, all of it."

Darcy knew better.  Megan hadn't stayed with Nielson because he wasn't her type.  He didn't have the…right equipment to interest her.  Blair did.  If it made Nielson feel better to think differently, and if it got the information they needed out of him, she didn't see any reason to argue about it.

Nielson definitely did not seem like their killer.  He didn't even seem to know she was dead, and whoever killed her would definitely already know she was dead.

The same something that had nagged at her before nagged at her now.  She just couldn't put her finger on it.  Something to do with what Nielson had just told them?  Something.  She'd have to puzzle it out later.

"I don't blame her, I guess," he was saying.  "I mean, I blame her for leaving me for a girl.  I can't just take that lying down, you know?"

"Who did she need protection from?" Jon asked, turning the conversation back on track.  "Who was she so scared of that she needed to get a gun?"

Nielson shrugged both shoulders, the motion making the chain on the table rattle.  "I don't know."

"Mister Daye, don't start holding out on us now."

"No, I really don't know," Nielson insisted.  "All I know, she said whoever it was, it was someone she knew from that place she grew up in."

Darcy sat forward in her chair.  "You mean Cider Hill?"

"Right!  That place."  Nielson nodded his head over and over.  "Cider Hill.  She said they were from Cider Hill, but then she clammed up and wouldn't tell me anything else.  So I let her crash on my couch for the night, kind of hoping she might want to sneak into my bedroom, you know?  Woke up in the morning, and she was gone."

Darcy looked at Jon, silently mouthing the name of Megan's hometown.  That place she had grown up in.  Cider Hill.

Where Megan's parents lived.

***

"I know you want to drive out to see her parents now," Jon said to Darcy.  They were turning off Main Street onto their quiet little road, heading home.  "I want to get out there now, too.  But it's already after five o'clock.  With the driving time it takes to get out there we'd have to wake them up out of bed to talk to them.  It's a five hour trip, four if I stretch the speed limits.  No one is cooperative when they get woken out of bed."

"I know, I know," Darcy told him.  "It's just so frustrating.  I like it better when your cases involve people right here in town.  There’re no long drives involved with those."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye with an amused smile.  "So…you like it better when the killer is someone we know?"

"Jon!"  She couldn't help but laugh, even as she tried to sound offended.  "For Pete's sake, that is not what I meant!"

"It's what you said.  You said, you like it better when—"

"I know what I said," she said, reaching over to tickle that spot on his side that always made him squirm.  "You're just trying to be difficult."

"No, no no!"  He tried to pull away while keeping his grip on the steering wheel, helpless against her playful attack.  "Don't tickle the driver!  Don't tickle the driver!  Hey, wait.  Who is that on our porch?"

Darcy stopped trying to unbutton Jon's shirt and looked up.  Sure enough, there was the outline of someone in their open doorway.  Two someone's, actually.  JoEllen stood there, inside the house, talking to…

Izzy McIntosh and her daughter Lilly.

Jon said a few choice words under his breath that would have made Darcy's ears ring if she wasn't thinking the very same thing.  Not that she thought JoEllen would ever do anything to their neighbors, but letting Izzy know that JoEllen was staying with them could be risky.  For them, for JoEllen, and especially for Izzy.

Jon parked the car in the driveway and took a moment to school his expression before getting out and walking casually up to the front porch of their house.  "Hi, Izzy.  Hi there, Lilly.  What brings you two over?"

JoEllen was leaning in the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her, for all the world like she was the owner of the house and not just a questionable guest.  "I was just telling Lilly here that I have a son about her age," JoEllen explained to Jon.  "Your neighbors saw the lights on and people inside and assumed it was you and Darcy."

"I didn't know you had houseguests," Izzy said apologetically. Her pretty face was pinched with curiosity, almost suspicion, at finding these people in Darcy's house.  She and Darcy had become very good friends ever since she'd come to town, and there wasn't much they didn't know about the goings on in each other's lives.  Except this, of course.  The wind caught at the hem of Izzy's short dress below her heavy coat, and at the strands of her long blonde hair, pulling them into her eyes.  Eyes that asked Darcy a thousand questions.

"Uh, yes," Darcy said, managing a smile.  "This is JoEllen.  She's a friend from Bear Ridge.  She and her son Connor are going to be staying with us for a few days."

That was close enough to the truth that she didn't feel like she was lying to Izzy.  She would hate to start breaking the trust she had built up with her.

"I go by Ellen now," JoEllen corrected Darcy without making it obvious.  "You know, we haven't had dinner yet.  If you wanted to join us I'm sure I could spring for some pizza.  Lilly could meet my Connor, too.  I'm sure they'd hit it off."

"Can we, mom?" Lilly asked, looking up at her mother hopefully, almost bouncing from foot to foot in her fuzzy winter boots.  Her pixie face framed by her long brown hair made her look so much like a little cherub that Darcy knew Izzy would give in.  Any mother would.  "Can we, please?"

"Actually, Izzy, I could use your help," Jon said, completely dashing Darcy's hopes that she could get Izzy to leave in some polite way.  "We have a case that involves people from Cider Hill.  Your hometown.  Mind if I pick your brain for a bit?"

"Well," Izzy said, looking more at her daughter than Jon, "I suppose if there's pizza involved that it's all right with me."

"Yay!" Lilly exclaimed, running past all of the adults to dash inside the house.

Jon walked Izzy inside, beginning to explain the basics of his current case.  Darcy noticed he was careful to keep himself between Izzy and JoEllen.  After they were gone inside, Darcy pulled JoEllen out onto the porch and let the door swing shut behind them.

"What are you doing?" Darcy asked in a tight voice.  "Asking them to stay for supper?  Seriously?  Do you remember how you're supposed to be in hiding?"

JoEllen's smile fell away from her face.  "Darcy, I very nearly pulled my gun on them when they came knocking on the door.  I couldn't be sure, you know?  I couldn't be sure Izzy wasn't the killer hired to get me.  I didn't know what to do so I just kept her talking until you got here.  When you said you knew her, I knew she was legit."

"The fact that she had a little girl with her didn't give you a clue?" Darcy asked incredulously.

"Well, sure, but some of the best contract killers bring kids with them when they scope out a target.  It puts everyone at ease and gets them to let their guard down."