When Darkness Falls (21 page)

D
arbie chose
her usual seat on the front row. This class, Psychology of Criminal Behavior, was her favorite, partly because of the course material but mostly because of Logan McDonald her dashing professor that she’d affectionately nicknamed
Professor McDreamy
. In his early thirties, he was tall and lean with hooded, black eyes that seemed to hold some tantalizing secret. His features were sharp and masculine, and he made a point of giving it to the class straight—a no-nonsense, a flesh and blood Tommy Lee Jones. Darbie could tell from the wistful looks on the faces of the other female students that she wasn’t the only one whose flame burned for the professor. His ring finger was bare, but she assumed that he must have a serious girlfriend because he showed no interest in the female attention he routinely received.

That all changed about midway through his lecture. The room was stuffy, and out of habit, she gathered her curls in her hands and pulled her hair up on her head to cool her neck. For some reason, this caught his attention. He stumbled over a word and paused, his thoughtful eyes catching hers. When she offered him a hesitant smile, he returned it. A bolt of warmth shot through her as she looked around, wondering if the other students had noticed the interaction. Throughout the lecture, Professor McDreamy kept glancing her direction. After class, he approached her desk. Her heart began to pound erratically. “Great lecture,” she blurted and then winced inwardly.
Could she have sounded anymore stupid?

“Thanks,” he said casually. “I appreciate your comments. It helps to keep the discussion going. I think half the students would sleep through the class if they could.”

She just sat there. It had been much easier to feel confident when she was in a room full of people. Now that they were alone, she couldn’t think of a single, sensible thing to say.
Blast it!
An awkward silence passed.

He cleared his throat. “I was going over your term paper. You make some strong points about why repeat offenders need harsher parole restrictions.”

They chatted about that for a few minutes, and then he pointed. “Nice earrings, by the way.”

A flush crept over her cheeks as she tucked a curl behind her ear. “Thanks.”

“They’re very unique. Where’d you get them?”

“At one of the department stores.” She flashed an unassuming smile. “Really can’t remember.” She wasn’t about to tell him that they were a gift to Chloe from an ex boyfriend and that she’d borrowed them without asking.

A fluid smile spread over his face, and she thought she would melt at the sight of it. “Well, they look very nice on you.” He gave her a hopeful look. “This may sound a bit unorthodox … since I’m your professor, but I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me sometime.”

“I’d love to,” she blurted before he could change his mind.

They exchanged phone numbers and set a date for Friday. After that, Darbie practically floated out of the room.

W
hen Darbie was
out of hearing range, Logan pulled his phone from his pocket. “Hey, Jared. How’s it going? It’s Logan … yeah, I know it’s been a while … how’s the investigation into the Ghost Thefts coming along? I was afraid of that … The Ghost is notorious for leaving no trace.” Excitement brimmed in his voice as he clutched the phone tighter. “Well, today is your lucky day, detective, I just might have a lead for you …”

G
arrett waited
until dark to enter Glory’s home. Carefully, he made his way to the study. He shined the flashlight around the room, looking for the chair. His heart dropped when he realized it wasn’t there. Glory must’ve moved it to another room. Even though he’d never been questioned by the police regarding the Ghost Thefts, he felt sure that the police kept tabs on him, considering the fact that he was Hank’s brother. He went to great lengths to cover his tracks, and that included making sure that he never stored the loot at his home or anywhere the police would suspect. He was at an auction when he came across the unique chair that had a secret compartment. The genius of the plan was in its simplicity. He placed the chair in Glory’s home, repeatedly telling her how much he loved it. While Glory wasn’t crazy about the chair, she would never get rid of it because she knew how much he loved it. He’d been tempted to have it recovered, so that it wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb, but he didn’t want to run the risk of the upholsterer discovering the compartment. Not only did he store jewels in it, but also passports for new identities and emergency cash.

Methodically, he searched the home, room-by-room, looking for the chair. He went so far as to search Glory’s room, even though she was sleeping in her bed. Frustration mounted inside of him when he realized that the chair was not there. A part of him wanted to wake Glory up and demand to know what she’d done with the chair. Of course, he couldn’t do that—not without drawing suspicion to himself. If he weren’t out of time, he could simply pay Glory a visit and casually ask about the chair, but it was too late for that. Everything was in place. Getting the contents from the chair was the final step.
Think! He had to think!
Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead as he tried to figure out what to do next.

G
arrett tightened
his hands on the wheel as he glanced in his review mirror. When he’d gotten the text from Sam, telling him that his time was up, he knew he had to act fast. He smirked. Sam was so predictable. Garrett figured that he would send his goons to his house in order to retrieve him. So, when he saw the parked car on the street, he sped off, knowing they would follow. He continued up the windy road of the canyon, grateful that the BMW handled so well. Everything was closing in at a rapid-fire pace, and he wondered how things had gotten so far out of control. His mind flittered to Hank and then to Chloe. He didn’t hate them, but he would never be able to forgive them, especially not Hank. His brother had betrayed him—turned his back on him when he needed him the most. It hurt like crazy, but there was nothing he could do about it. He pressed his foot on the gas, making the car go faster. He smiled when he looked in the mirror and saw that the car behind him was swerving in order to keep up. “Take that, you lug heads,” he muttered. Then he went faster, increasing the distance between him and the other car. He laughed out loud when he looked back and saw that the car was lagging further and further behind. He increased the speed even more.

A minute later, the BMW spiraled out of control and went off a steep embankment, rolling over and over until it landed with a loud crash. A second later, it burst into fiery flames that from a distance looked like a huge bonfire, billowing acrid smoke up into the night air.

S
he first became
aware of a dank darkness that was so complete she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. She was alone—trapped in a tunnel that seemed to have no end. The blackness pressed against her eyes, suffocating her. And then the darkness gave way to a faint light, and she saw Dan in the distance, beckoning to her. She quickened her pace in order to reach him, but her legs grew heavy, like she was trudging through deep water. Her chest constricted, and she couldn’t breathe. The scene changed, and she was in frigid water that was pouring in around her. She tried to scream, but no one could hear. A roaring started in her mind and rang through her ears. Then, she saw Hank. There was a look of sheer determination on his face as he held out his hand. She strained with all of her might against the water and finally grasped it. In that moment, she felt safe. He pulled her through the water and then she was falling.

Chloe jerked to a sitting position. For a split second, her mind fought to grasp reality, and then she realized that she was in her bed. She was bathed in a sticky sweat, and her heart was flopping in her chest. She rubbed her eyes and groaned.
Stupid nightmare!
She could thank Lila for this one. She’d felt like she was drowning. She reached for her phone—5:00 a.m. She returned it to the nightstand and lay back against the pillow. Her alarm wasn’t scheduled to go off until 6:00. She lay there, allowing her mind to drift, as she felt herself settling back into blessed sleep. Then her phone buzzed, jarring her awake. She reached for it and frowned.

“Hello.”

“Chloe.”

“Hank. Are you okay?”

There was a long pause.

“Hank? What’s wrong?” An unreasonable fear seized her.

“It’s Garrett. He’s been in a car accident.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Is he okay?” she croaked.

“No, he’s dead.” Hank’s voice broke, and she could hear the soft gulping of weeping on the other end.

She jumped out of bed and threw back the covers. “Are you at your condo?”

Silence.

“Hank, are you at your condo,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“I’m on my way.”

G
arrett’s funeral
was to be held at a mortuary located on Highland Drive. They were at the viewing, and the funeral would follow. The sweet, sickly smell of carnations permeated the air, and Chloe felt like she’d been catapulted back to those torturous days she’d spent in the funeral home, mourning Dan. Her stomach churned, increasing the feeling of dread that was tying her in knots. Thankfully, it was a closed casket funeral. Of course the reason it was closed casket was because Garrett’s body had been so badly burned that he was only able to be identified through his dental records. There were too many similarities to Dan. His body had been burned beyond recognition too. She shuddered at the thought.

She stepped up to the casket, which had a blanket of red roses spread over the top. Then she heard the sniffle and saw Yvette sitting nearby. Her eyes were stained with tears, and she was bringing a tissue to her nose. Even though she wasn’t Chloe’s favorite person, she felt sorry for her. It was obvious that she’d loved Garrett. She stood, looking at the large picture of him. It was taken on a boat dock with a sailboat directly behind him. The wind was rustling his hair, and there was a faint mocking mile on his flawless face that was so characteristic of Garrett, like he was somehow exempt from the normal hardships of life. He looked so alive and ready to take on the world that she could hardly believe he was gone. Tears brimmed in her eyes. She glanced over to where Hank was greeting guests. There was a rigid expression on his face, and his jaw was rock hard. It was obvious that he was doing all he could to hold it together.

Her face fell a notch when she saw V enter the room. She was wearing a tight, black dress that came about six inches above her knees. Patterned tights and swanky stilettos completed the ensemble, giving the impression that her legs stretched on endlessly. Her hair was pulled into a chignon, and she wore a single strand of black pearls and matching earrings. Chloe suddenly felt frumpy in her modest dress and sensible shoes. As she had at Marsh Interiors, V strode in like she owned the place. She made a beeline to Hank. Completely, ignoring the fact that he was in the middle of a conversation with someone else, she threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so sorry, darling,” she gushed, as tears began flowing down her perfect cheeks.

A sharp stab of jealousy went through Chloe, nearly taking her breath away. She was starting to hate that woman and how possessive she acted around Hank, almost as though they were still an item. She did feel a smidgen of relief when she saw Hank go stiff in V’s arms and pull away as quickly as possible. V whispered something in his ear, and he gave her a curt nod. She was trying to decide if she should go to Hank’s side or keep her distance when he scoped the room in a desperate attempt to find her. There was a look of relief on his face when he realized she was standing nearby. He motioned for her to join him.

She straightened her shoulders and strode over to him, trying to appear more confident than she actually was. Hank put a protective arm around her and pulled her close. “You remember Chloe. I can’t even begin to express what it has meant to have her by my side these past few days.”

The look of hatred that twisted over V’s face was almost comical. If V had any lingering doubts about where she stood with Hank, the message was crystal clear.

“Of course. We met at your office.” She flashed a fake smile. “How nice to see you again.”

“Thanks,” Chloe said curtly. She guessed from the cold look on V’s face that she would’ve clawed Chloe’s eyes out if she could’ve.

V gave Hank an accusing look. “It’s obvious the two of you are very happy together.”

“We are,” Hank said.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pay my respects to Garrett.” She put a hand on Hank’s arm, letting it linger there longer than was necessary. “Again, I’m truly sorry for your loss.” Malice glittered in her eyes as she looked at Chloe. Without uttering another word, she turned on her heel and strode over to Garrett’s casket.

“
I
t was a lovely funeral
,” Glory said.

“As if there is such a thing,” Hank muttered darkly.

Glory looked to Chloe for help, but she could only shake her head. The three of them were sitting in Glory’s den. Glory’s sunken face made the deep sorrow in her eyes look even more pronounced. She was so frail that she looked as if she might break at the slightest touch. She seemed to have aged a decade since Chloe had last seen her. Grief did that to a person—eating away the best part of them until only the empty shell remained. She knew that first hand. As concerned as she was about Glory, it was Hank that she worried about the most. He was withdrawing into himself, mechanically going through the motions—only speaking when necessary. The naked anguish in his eyes was almost too much to take.

The funeral wasn’t lovely, as Glory had put it, but brutal. The entire time, V, who was sitting a row to her right, kept looking over and shooting death glares. Not to mention the fact that all throughout the service, she had the uncanny impression that she was reliving Dan’s death. She’d come away from the funeral feeling more disturbed than she’d felt in a long time.