Telling Tales Read online

  Her eyes drifted away and she sighed. “I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts, that’s for sure. I figure when I’m less likely to brood, I’ll get some work done. I’m too good at brooding though. I don’t need the headache it’s going to give me.”

  Clive set her mocha down in front of her, the biscotti on a plate with a lace doily. After patting her shoulder with an arthritic hand, he hobbled away. “Take your time, girl. You just take your time. Like I said, pretty face like yours around here ain’t gonna hurt my business none,” he told her over his shoulder.

  She eventually moved to the padded window seat and pulled out a book, reading until she had a crick in her neck and her hands were shaky from excess caffeine.

  Even then, she didn’t go home. Closing her eyes, she daydreamed, her mind drifting, chasing itself around in circles. The low hum of conversation around her lulled her, and eased her even farther into her daze.

  When Clive came up later and patted her shoulder, his eyes were dark and thoughtful as he studied her. “Girl, I’m almost tempted to just stay open all night. I can tell you don’t wanna go home and be alone wit’ yourself. But it’s late, and I’m tired,” he drawled, pulling a chair up. “You know, sooner or later, the people who caused this mess for you are going to get what’s comin’ to them. What goes around does indeed come around.”

  “Yeah, well, a couple of these people have been causing this kind of shit for years. And nothing’s ever come of it,” Darci said wearily. “And they aren’t even the worst of it. They aren’t the ones who bothered me the most.”

  “Oh, I know…it’s Della. You admired that woman-imagine you still do. It’s hard to shut down what’s in your heart when ya look up to somebody as much as you did her. I do know that she’s got plenty of people who aren’t very happy with her.”

  Her mouth curled up in a sad smile. “I don’t want anybody mad at her. That doesn’t solve anything.”

  “No. And it doesn’t make you feel any better. Nothing is gonna do that. Nothing changes the fact that she believed somebody’s lies,” Clive said, his low, soothing voice lulling her frazzled nerves. “Now you listen up. I’m going make you up a special drink, and you don’t be tellin’ nobody about it. And you can’t give me money, cuz I ain’t allowed to sell alcohol. But I’m gonna fix it. And then I’m gonna drive you home. You can drink it there.”

  He patted her hand and stood up. “Once you get there, you’re going to go up, get in bed and finish drinking it. And sleep. And put this mess behind you-however you have to do it.”

  Chapter Two

  Kellan’s hands moved over smooth, ivory flesh. Silken and sweetly scented, eyes that sparkled green under slanted black brows and a cap of short, black hair. Damned exotic little fairy.

  Her mouth tasted like wine under his, addictive and sweet, and her hands moved over his body like butterfly wings, light and feathery. Against his chest, he could feel the hot stab of her nipples, the pounding of her heart.

  Rolling her onto her back, Kellan pushed her thighs wide and spread her open, piercing the wet folds with his tongue. She was sweet, spicy…ripe. Ready for him-damn it, he was ready for her, too.

  Vicious need pulsed through him and he groaned as she arched up against him with a shriek.

  Now …the word circled through his mind. Now…had to have her now.

  Moving up her body, he wondered why in the hell he had waited so long-

  The buzzing of his pager had the dream falling in tatters around him.

  Fuck.

  He opened his eyes, his cock throbbing and aching like a bad tooth, Darci’s name lingering on his lips. Damn it, he could still feel the echo of the dream as he reached for his pager. Her scent seemed to cling to him and he had to remind himself that it was just a dream.

  The most realistic dream he had ever had, but a dream all the same.

  But the message on his pager was like a bucket of ice water thrown in his face and his body froze as he finished reading it.

  Swallowing, he reached for the phone and called the office, hoping this was some sick joke.

  Twenty minutes later, he was standing in Carrie Forrest’s house, over the bloodied remains of her body. It was no joke.

  This was as real as it got, and about as bloody.

  He hadn’t seen this much hatred in a long while.

  Somebody had a powerful lot of rage built up inside of them, and whoever it was, had let it all loose on Carrie last night.

  Beth Morris was downstairs wailing on Peggy Ralley’s shoulder and Kim Samuel was sitting on the couch, sipping coffee and staring into the distance, as though she wasn’t really there.

  Carrie had been beaten to death.

  The murder weapon was still in the house. Carrie’s cane. The victim’s face was hardly recognizable. The cane had broken by the time the perp was done.

  Damn it. He felt pity move through him as he knelt beside her body and studied the pitiful mess that had been made of it.

  She had wreaked a lot of hell, on a lot of lives.

  But nobody deserved to die like this.

  “Ms. Morris, you can’t- Damn it, this is the scene of a crime-”

  “Take your hands off of me, unless you’d like to be talking to me and my lawyer in court,” Beth Morris said coldly.

  Almost everybody in town had heard that line before. Beth loved to throw it around. Mostly, it was an empty threat, but enough people had actually received papers that most didn’t want to push it. The judges at the small county courthouse had tired of seeing her face and had thrown many cases out, so Beth had taken several of her cases to the next level.

  It was still a threat powerful enough to evoke fear in some people’s hearts.

  But Deputy David Morelli wasn’t about to let her intrude on a crime scene.

  “I don’t care if the Almighty Himself summons me to appear in court. I’m not going to let you intrude on a crime scene,” Morelli snapped, placing himself between Beth and the studio when the other officer let her go. “Now if you don’t take yourself back downstairs, I will. We’ve already asked you several times. Please don’t make us go through this again.”

  Beth started to sniffle. “How can you talk to me this way? I’ve lost my best friend.”

  “And I’d think you’d want us to do what we can to make sure her killer is caught. Including not damaging possible clues,” Morelli said levelly.

  “I just want to speak with the Sheriff,” she said, her voice high-pitched and whining.

  From where Kellan crouched, he could almost hear the sigh in Morelli’s voice and he figured he owed the man a drink or ten.

  “He just got here. He hasn’t been on the scene for more than five minutes. Give him some time, Ms. Morris. Now go back downstairs and let us work,” he said firmly.

  “She did it! I know she did! Everybody loves Carrie but her,” Beth sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “Arrest that bitch. You can’t let her walk the streets while Carrie lies dead in the ground.”

  Kellan lifted his head and stared out into the hall as Beth shrieked out, “You put Darci in jail, damn it. She threatened Carrie, just yesterday. Make her pay!”

  ***

  Kellan left the house some time later, tension settling inside his gut like a leaden fist.

  “What’s your next step?” Morelli asked quietly.

  Turning, Kellan met the older man’s dark eyes, scowling. “I’m going to go question Darci Law.” And the thought ate at him, like acid in his belly.

  Morelli sighed, rubbing his thumb across his lip. “She didn’t do it, Sheriff. You know that. Question her, get it out of the way…and when this is over, you really ought to quit mooning over her and just ask her out.”

  Kellan felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Turning away, he thought sourly, Well, damn. Been hiding it real well, haven’t I?

  Unable to think of a damn thing to say to that, he just scowled at Morelli and stomped away.

  This, he decided, just downright sucked.


  ***

  Darci rolled onto her back, her hand between her legs, a sigh tripping out of her as she dreamed. Oh, she suspected damn good and well it was a dream, but still…

  If his hands felt as good in reality as they felt in the dream-shoot, even half as good-she’d climax before he even touched her breasts.

  In the dream, his lips were fixed firmly around her nipple, drawing deeply, as his hands palmed her butt, lifting her up against his cock. His hair had fallen free of that short, stubby tail he kept it confined in and it teased her shoulders, her neck. She locked her hands in it, smiling with delight as it turned out to be every bit as silky as it looked. It was the color of mahogany, deep dark brownish-red, shot through with streaks of pure bright red-women would kill to have hair like his.

  Damn, a lot of women just might kill to be where she was, spread out underneath that long, sleekly muscled body, that clever mouth moving over her hungrily, that hair wrapped around her fists.

  Kellan kissed his way down her belly, pushing her thighs apart. He rose to his knees, reaching up to untangle her hands from his hair before he stroked his finger down her slit, from her clit on down, opening her thoroughly. He moved past the tender patch of flesh between her vagina and her anus to tease the tight pucker of her ass before he lowered his head and placed a full openmouthed kiss against her wet flesh.

  “Damn, you’re sweet,” he murmured, lifting up to blow on her before turning his head to the side and plunging his tongue inside of her.

  “Sweet, sweet, sweet…”

  Those words were echoing inside her head as she was jerked out of sleep by the persistent knocking on her door.

  Darci sat up, her chest heaving, her nipples burning, a throbbing, lingering ache in her pussy…while she played with herself. Her face flushed as she pulled her hand away from her aching cleft and whispered, “Now that was one hell of a wet dream.”

  She rolled out of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, washing her hands and then splashing water on her face before she went downstairs, flicking a glance at the clock. Ten o’clock. Damn, what in the hell had Clive put into that drink?

  She never slept that late.

  But she felt-good.

  Very good, actually. Of course, that could be the wet dream she had just had. A wicked smile lifted up the corners of her mouth as she opened the door. But heat suffused her face when the open door revealed Kellan Grant. The object of her wet dream.

  Slowly, she slid a hand through her hair. Parking tickets paid…and I don’t think Carrie would be stupid enough to press charges for yesterday.

  After all, what can she say? I yelled at her? That I told her to leave me alone?

  The dream echoed through her head as she met his eyes and her cheeks heated.

  “Good morning, Sheriff,” she said slowly. Trying to shove the dream aside, she nibbled on her lower lip as she prayed to God that Kellan couldn’t tell what thoughts were running through her head.

  “Morning, ma’am,” he said, nodding at her. Behind him stood one of his deputies, and the younger man also nodded politely, his eyes moving away from her face.

  “I’m afraid I need to ask you to come down to the station, Ms. Law,” Kellan said, his voice tight, a muscle ticcing in his cheek. “I’ve got some questions I need to ask, and I’ll need to take a statement. If you wouldn’t mind getting dressed…”

  Darci glanced down at her nightshirt, confused. No, she couldn’t wear the cotton nightie down there. Licking her lips, she looked back up at Kellan and asked, “What do you need to talk to me about? I’m afraid I don’t understand, Sheriff.”

  Kellan glanced at the deputy before he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Ms. Law, look, this is a pretty…hmm. Why don’t you let us come inside? Maybe you can run upstairs and get dressed?” he suggested, his eyes flicking to the front of her nightshirt again.

  She nodded slowly as her heart started to quiver in her chest.

  Something was wrong.

  Bad wrong.

  She didn’t do it.

  Even though he had been pretty certain of it before coming here, the confused look in her eyes only confirmed his gut instincts. She didn’t do it.

  Okay, yes, he’d known that, in his gut. But another part of him-the cop part-knew that sometimes people did some very out of character things and he just couldn’t help but…

  But she didn’t.

  Relief made him slightly lightheaded as he stepped inside. Grady followed behind him and closed the door.

  As her pretty little butt disappeared up the stairs, he dragged his eyes away from her and found his deputy grinning at him.

  “You should really just ask her out, Sheriff. You’ve been panting over her since before your divorce. Just do it,” Grady said, shaking his head at him.

  “Wonderful idea. While I’m asking out a murder suspect, would you like to do anything else damaging to my career? I know, maybe you’d like to plant rumors that I’m selling drugs on the side?” Kellan whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  “She’s no murderer,” Grady whispered back, shaking his head. “I dunno who is responsible, but it’s not her.” He clammed up the minute he heard footsteps on the stairs and Kellan jerked back around.

  But what he saw on the steps wasn’t much better than what she had been wearing.

  All she had done was draw on jeans and tuck the tails of her nightshirt in. That fine white cotton was much too thin to disguise a damn thing. It clung to the full white globes of her breasts, and the dark shadow of her nipples was outlined clearly.

  Darci was too damned sharp not to realize something bad wrong was going on. He could see the nerves dancing in her eyes.

  And when a woman got nervous, well, it had similar effects sometimes as that of arousal. She was cold, her skin covered with goose bumps and she kept chafing her arms with her hands, licking her lips as her eyes darted from Grady to Kellan, back to Grady, then focused on Kellan.

  And her nipples…they had gone stiff and hard, peaking against the soft white cotton of her nightie and all Kellan wanted to do was drop to his knees and take one of them into his mouth, then the other and see if she tasted as sweet as he suspected.

  He suppressed a groan as she seated herself in the emerald green papasan chair and folded her hands in her lap, staring at them. “What’s going on, Sheriff?” she asked quietly.

  “I need you to tell me where you were last night,” Kellan said, lowering himself to the couch and watching her face closely.

  “I was at Clive’s,” she said, lifting a shoulder and staring at them, her peaked brows puckered with confusion. “I usually would have gone out to the park and shot pictures. It was a clear evening, gorgeous…would have been great for some sunset pics, but I didn’t feel like being alone with my thoughts. So I went to Clive’s.”

  “So you had some coffee and came home?” Kellan asked, pulling out his notepad. He drew out a pair of glasses with dark gold wire frames and put them on, then just tapped his pen against his notepad, studying her face.

  That wasn’t enough to alibi her. He already had a good idea of time of death, just from looking at the body. Rigor hadn’t set in, there wasn’t any smell, and blood had already settled in her body. A little over twelve hours, the way he figured. Carrie had died probably between seven and nine.

  “What time did you go to Clive’s?”

  “I got there around five,” she said, frowning.

  “And after you had your coffee, you left?” he asked, keeping the urge to swear violently behind his teeth. Not good enough. Not even good to keep from arresting her if they found even the slightest bit of circumstantial evidence.

  She shook her head. “I was there until he closed. I didn’t feel like being alone.” She moved her eyes away, staring out the window over Kellan’s shoulder. “Been a long week.”

  Damn it, she looked like she had been kicked. Like somebody had slapped her. He wanted to go over there and cuddle her, st
roke her hair and buss that pretty mouth. And once she was smiling again, he wanted to see how long it would take to make her moan, and make her sigh, and sob with pleasure.

  “I heard you’ve had a rough time-also heard some rumors that Carrie was behind that little ordeal,” Kellan said. Bile rose in his throat. He usually loved his job. Enjoyed it. Keeping the peace, seeing justice done when what little crime happened in this quiet town occurred.

  But now…self-disgust rose bitterly as he started to set her up and he would have done almost anything if somebody else could have done this.

  Anger flared in her jewel-bright eyes and she sneered. “Rumor, my ass. If she’s not the bitch behind it, then I’ll eat cardboard. She started it, I know it as well as I know my own name.”

  “She’s caused you trouble in the past, hasn’t she? Accused you of having liaisons, stealing your photographs from online, a number of things,” Kellan said.

  “Is that all of it? Hell, I would have thought there was more by now,” Darci snorted. “I’ve no idea what kind of lies she’s told about me. I do know that she mentioned to damn near every woman in town that I really am not a wise person to befriend because I’ll steal away her man the minute she turns her back. And I’ll do everything possible to ruin her life in the process,” she said, flicking her spiky bangs back from her face with a silver-ringed finger. “Something’s not right in Carrie’s head. If she can’t have you under her control, she hates you.”

  “I take it that you wouldn’t comply with what she wanted,” Kellan said.

  Darci shrugged. “I don’t kiss ass very well. And I don’t tolerate patronization. So no, we never really got along well, if that is what you want to know. I don’t like Carrie, I never have. But she’s really been jerking my chain a lot lately,” she said, shaking her head. She looked back at Kellan and cocked a brow. “You still haven’t explained why you are here, what exactly it is that has you wanting to take me in for a statement.”