Skinbound (9 page)

Her phone buzzed, announcing a text. She tapped the screen, expecting to see Scarlett’s name. Instead, it was Liz, asking if she’d changed her mind about going out with Scarlett, giving her one last chance to bail. She chuckled and answered the text, assuring Liz she’d be okay.

At eight-thirty Darcy glanced out the window again. Scarlett still wasn’t home. Darcy sent several text messages over the course of the evening, but hadn’t gotten a reply. Her stomach rumbled. She reclined on the couch and surfed through the television channels, her eyes growing heavy.

Darcy’s phone vibrated on her lap, springing her into a sitting position. “Hello?” she warbled into the receiver, her voice thick with sleep.

“Hello, beautiful,” Cabin said, his voice stimulating, like a double espresso.

“Disheveled would be a more accurate description, at the moment,” she said, smoothing her clothing. “I thought you were Scarlett.”

“Scarlett? Aren’t the two of you together?”

“She never came home from work, and she won’t answer her phone. I have no idea where she is.” Darcy glanced at the clock on the end table, her mild irritation turning to worry. It was one o’clock in the morning.

“I’m sorry she stood you up… But I have to say, I do feel better knowing you’re safe at home, instead of out with a group of Scarletteers that you don’t know.”

“
Scarletteers
?” She laughed. “Yeah, I feel much safer here—it’s a comfort to know my intruder won’t need a tour, he already knows his way around the place.”

Cabin didn’t return her chuckle. “Do you want me to come over?” His question aroused more than just her awareness.

Without warning, the thunderous rev of an engine boomed outside the door, followed by wild laughter that turned her blood to ice water. She gasped.

“What’s the matter?” Cabin’s voice sharpened.

“I…I don’t know. I’m going to look,” she whispered, pressing a trembling finger between the slats of her mini-blinds. A red, expensive-looking sports car sat in Scarlett’s driveway. Darcy couldn’t see who was behind the wheel, but by the sound of his donkey-bray laughter, he was plastered.

“Darcy?” Cabin urged.

She sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she continued to peek through the blinds. “It’s okay. It’s just Scarlett and her
Scarletteers
, returning from their night on the town.”

His breath echoed through the phone. “Okay, good. I’ll let you go to bed. Goodnight, birthday girl.”

“It’s not my birthday anymore,” she reminded him. “But I wish it was…my party was fantastic.”

“It was my pleasure. Sweet dreams.”

Darcy set the phone on the cushion beside her and turned, inching her face closer to the window.

The driver staggered from the car, then relieved himself on Scarlett’s rosebush. Scarlett emerged from the passenger’s side, then helped a chesty brunette from the backseat. A man with long hair exited from the other side. The four silhouettes talked loudly as they wobbled up Scarlett’s steps and into the house, slamming the door behind them.

****

“So, what happened to you last night?” Darcy asked, her eyes glued to what looked suspiciously like a hickey on her sister’s collarbone.

“Trust me. From the bits and pieces I remember, you don’t want to know. I hope to God it never fully comes back to me.” She nudged her way through the front door, into the living room. “Can I come in?” she asked, already in stride to the kitchen.

“Be my guest,” Darcy said, closing the door. She arrived in the kitchen to find Scarlett sloshing gin into her coffee.

“Didn’t you get enough last night?” Darcy asked.

“I didn’t touch a drop of gin last night. It was tequila. That’s what I came over to talk to you about. The losers I work with couldn’t wait until evening to take me out for a drink. I swear, I was going to pick you up after, but it seems I had a few too many, and they wouldn’t let me drive.” She shrugged. “I want to make it up to you today, by taking you to lunch at Clique’s.”

“Isn’t it in the city?”

Scarlett nodded. “Which brings me to my next point. I need you to drive me to Potions, to pick up my Benz.”

“Potions, the
bar
?” Darcy asked, between clenched teeth.

“Please?” she begged, her hands in prayer position for the first time Darcy could remember.

“You’re paying for lunch,” Darcy said, snatching Scarlett’s coffee cup from her and pouring the contents down the drain.

****

“Nice place,” Darcy noted, admiring the ornate wall sconces that lit the entryway of the restaurant. Behind a black enamel podium, a young woman texted on her cell phone. Scarlett stepped in front of the distracted hostess, snapping her fingers.

“Oh, s-sorry, ma’am,” she stammered, leaping to attention. “Table for two?”

“I do believe she’s trying to communicate!” Scarlett exclaimed in falsetto, batting her lashes.

“Stop it.” Darcy glared at her sister, then followed the hostess to a table.

“Will this do?” she asked, her eyes widening at the two women as they sat down, apparently just noticing the resemblance.

“Yes, it’s fine. Now, be a dear and scram while we look at the overpriced menu.” Scarlett waved her hand in the air, dismissing the red-faced girl. “Oh, and bring us some water.”

A twenty-something waiter approached, carrying two glasses of ice water. He took their orders, then turned toward the kitchen. Scarlett watched him walk away, her eyes glued to his youthful backside.

After the meal—over which Scarlett chattered nonstop, mostly about herself—Darcy stifled a yawn. “Are you ready to go?” she interrupted her sister’s theatrical drone, stretching her back against the rungs of the chair.

“What’s your hurry?” Scarlett asked, her face pinched, as if annoyed by Darcy’s audacity. “Now, where was I…”

Darcy stood. “Look, the plates are gone, the bill is paid—thank you, by the way—and the server has been tipped. I’m ready to drop you off at your car and get home.”

“By all means, let’s go.” Scarlett rose and collected her purse from under the table. They made their way toward the entrance.

When Darcy rounded the corner to the hostess station, a familiar figure in the lobby caught her attention. Her heart fell to her stomach like a ball of hot lead. Wyatt. Her ex-husband.

Scarlett elbowed her. “Isn’t that the sad little man you used to be married to?” Her small nose wrinkled like a deranged rabbit. “Aww, and he’s brought his whole sad little family.”

“Just keep walking,” Darcy demanded, jerking Scarlett by the elbow.

“And miss the show? Not a chance!” Scarlett broke free of her sister and strutted to Wyatt, an extra sway in her hips.

The panic in his face was unmistakable, all the color washed away at once, leaving him ashen, as if he’d seen a ghost—or a monster.

“Well, hello, Wyatt,” she cooed, her cold gaze darting from him to his wife, his daughters, then back. “Long time, no see.”

Wyatt stared at Scarlett through eyes glazed with terror and dread—the same way Darcy had seen her sister for so many years. He blinked, as if trying to clear his vision.

“Scarlett,” he whispered. Her name seemed to hang in front of him like a noose. Swallowing audibly, he took a step back, gating his family behind his arm.

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce us to your brood?” Scarlett asked, taking a step forward.

Wyatt took another step back, moving his family with him. His wife and young daughters stood motionless, as if his protective arm were an electric fence. Darcy wondered if his family could feel the horror squirming through him like voltage.

“Scarlett, we need to go.” Darcy returned her hand to Scarlett’s elbow, tugging her back.

Wyatt’s eyes snapped to Darcy, as if suddenly aware of her.

“I’m sorry, Wyatt,” she croaked, wishing she could sink through the polished brick floor.

“I’m sorry too, Wyatt,” Scarlett sneered, then blew him a kiss. He thrashed, swatting at the air as if she’d hurled a poisonous insect in his direction.

“Still pathetic,” Scarlett spat, turning away.

Darcy took giant strides to her car, causing Scarlett to run in her designer heels to catch up.

“What did you do to him, to strike that kind of fear in his heart?” Darcy flung over her shoulder.

“Slow down!” Scarlett panted, her shoes clicking over the pavement. “It was a long time ago, and it’s not like you two were really in love. Besides, nothing happened. I was just testing him to see if he would cheat on you. Saving you some heartache early on. Don’t worry…he passed with flying colors. I guess I was just more than he could handle. Seems he never recovered.” Her hoarse laugh turned to a cough, and she clutched her chest. “Stop loping, you look ridiculous!”

“Screw you!” Darcy yelled, Scarlett’s confession cranking the fury she’d stuffed down most of her life, springing it up like a rancorous jack in the box. In some sick way, it felt good, like lancing a boil.

“Don’t tell me you’re angry over that little…nobody! It’s not like he’s innocent. He left you, remember? He needs to pay for deserting you—for wronging you.” Scarlett’s voice took on an artificial-sounding tenor.

Darcy faced her twin, anger hammering through her brain, forging every thought into rage. “And what about all the people
you’ve
wronged? Exactly when do you get what’s coming to
you
, sister?”

“Me?” Scarlett clutched her hand to her breast, an indignant chortle escaping her. “I’ve never wronged anyone in my life that didn’t deserve it. I’m in the
reimbursement
business. I make things right.”

Darcy stared open-mouthed at her sister. “You really are crazy,” she said, unlocking her driver’s side door and climbing behind the wheel.

Scarlett tugged at the passenger’s side, rapping her knuckles against the window.

“Open this door, now. I’m sick of your goody-two-shoes routine!” she shouted through the glass, pulling her cigarettes from her purse and shaking one out.

Darcy cracked the window so Scarlett could hear. “The bar is only three blocks away. You can walk.”

“To hell with you. These are four hundred dollar shoes.”

“Then take a cab.”

Darcy pealed from the parking space. Scarlett’s designer shoe bounced off the back windshield, leaving a small chink in the glass. In the rearview mirror, Darcy saw her hobbling over to where it landed.

A weight lifted from Darcy’s shoulders as she pulled onto the interstate and accelerated, driving out from under her sister’s shadow.

****

Cabin hadn’t been to the Redbud Park social since he was a boy. Eighties rock songs—familiar since childhood—blared through the band’s amplifiers, echoing through the trees. Nostalgia washed over him as he licked his blueberry ice cream cone. He drew in a breath sweetened by the aroma of funnel cake, and looked at Darcy smiling up at him. His heart ached with a realization he could no longer deny.
He needed her
. She was worthy of so much more than he’d given. The psychopath ravaging her home had exposed an uncomfortable truth. Cabin would lay down his life to protect her. He was proud to have her by his side, and it was time he told her so.

He stuck out his tongue, and Darcy laughed, just the reaction he’d hoped for. She needed some levity, a break from the bad fortune she’d dealt with lately.

“Does it go with my eyes?” he asked.

“I do believe your eyes are bluer.” She licked green drips from the tip of her sugar cone. “How about mine, does it match?” She poked out her tongue.

“A perfect hazel-pistachio blend.”

“May I have a taste of your blueberry?” she asked.

He held the cone to her lips. She nibbled lightly, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You missed a spot,” he lied, kissing her chin.

“Are you sure you got it all?” She tilted her head back.

He cupped her chin. “Not quite.” He kissed her lips as shackles fell from his heart. “So what should we try next?” He swept his arm and glanced around at the park vendors.

A dark, stony glare intercepted his gaze.

“Estelle?” He looked at Darcy. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” He approached the old woman seated under a tree in her wheelchair. “What are you doing here alone?” He darted his gaze, spotting a few other residents and workers from the nursing home.

Estelle’s black eyes were slits. “You starved my daughter and her unborn child to death. I will not allow you to emaciate their memory as well.” Her throat muscles tightened visibly as she spoke. She flicked her gaze to Darcy, then glowered at Cabin.

He knelt beside her. “Please, calm down.” The last thing he wanted to do was upset her further. He fought for the right words to say.

She jerked her hand from his grasp. “Don’t you touch me,” she spewed.

He took a shaky breath. “You know how much I wanted to help Samantha. She checked herself out of three different facilities. I—”

She balled her fists, striking the arms of her chair. “You neglected her! It’s the same as if you’d stitched her mouth shut. You should’ve done more, as her husband—as her
doctor.
She was carrying your child!” Tears dripped from her chin onto the paper bib around her neck.

Cabin lowered his gaze and his voice. “The anorexia affected Samantha’s menstrual cycle. I didn’t even know she was pregnant...” He hoarsened. “Until the analysis came back.” He closed his eyes, attempting to block the tears. “I saw it on her autopsy report.” His mind reeled…was he crying for Estelle’s loss, or his own…he couldn’t tell anymore.

She pointed her trembling, knotted finger into his face. “It’s your fault! All of it!” Her gaze shifted, pinning Darcy. “How does it feel to kiss a murderer? You may be next!” She rocked in her chair, her feet banging the footrests. “Murderer! Murderer!”

He rose, pressing a hand to his brow. People gathered around, asking Estelle if Cabin was threatening her.

A young, unfamiliar orderly with two pink ice cream cones bustled through the crowd. “What is going on here? Sir, step back from my patient.”