All Through the Night (Liar's Web) (8 page)

“
No, the station’s fine,” she said eagerly. “It'll be nice to get out of the house.”

Her heart skipped with excitement at the possibility of regaining her memory of the killer's face. If she was able to correctly identify a photo or create a profile for the sketch artist, perhaps Trueblood could make an arrest and she could go back home to live. Truthfully, he'd been less of a jerk than she'd ever imagined he could be. At times he'd even been kind—giving her a pep talk about her parents, finding a fan for her when she'd gotten hot, and cooking her a delicious breakfast feast.

But still, she wanted her life back. It bothered her that because of one moment of sheer foolishness when she'd agreed to be her brother's flunkie, her entire life had been turned upside down. She couldn't wait for this nightmare to be over! More than anything she wanted to go back to her everyday life as Darcel Dawkins, realtor. Today she planned to do whatever was humanly possible to make it happen.

* * * *

She isn't the only one needing a change of scenery
.
 
Had it really only been twenty-some hours since she'd moved into his house? It felt like it'd been days, weeks, months. When he'd first laid eyes on her this morning he'd been blown away by her beauty. Damn! She was hot. Had she always been this hot? He'd seen her face a million times plastered all over billboards in town advertising her real estate company.
Darcel Dawkins Realty. She's the Real Deal!

By that time he'd heard she was spreading gossip about him all over Liberty Creek, and the very sight of her turned his stomach. When he'd gotten in her face that night at Tumbleweeds and called her a bunch of nasty names, he hadn't even appreciated how hot she was in person. He'd been so filled with anger he hadn't noticed a thing about her other than her gossipy ways.

And now it was all he saw. Her chocolate-colored skin. Her wild tumble of glossy hair. The way her mouth formed dimples when she laughed. Her sexy little body that wouldn't quit. The almond-shaped exotic eyes that could make him feel guilty with a single reproachful look.

Damn! He was losing his professional edge. His body responded to her in alarming ways that violated his sense of right and wrong. Right—he'd taken on the assignment of protecting her from a killer. Wrong—to mix business with pleasure and take her to his bed. There was no doubt about it. He wanted her in his bed, every soft, silky, delectable inch of her.

Shame filled him as he remembered the way he'd grabbed her wrist at the diner all those months ago. She'd cried out in pain, and Case had lit into him for putting his hands on her. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but the simple sight of her had driven him over the edge. Had he ever apologized for it? He couldn't remember telling her he was sorry, and it burned him up inside. He'd acted like a total Neanderthal. No wonder she thought he was an ass!

He wanted to get out of the house tonight, to throw back a few beers with the guys, toss darts, and flirt with pretty females. He needed to bury himself in another woman's arms and lose himself in the heat of the moment. He was determined to rid his mind of all thoughts of his sexy house guest. What he desperately craved was a distraction.

* * * *

The moment they walked into the police station, Darcel realized Jake Trueblood was the closest thing the town had to a rock star. As soon as he ambled into the room, a swarm of people surrounded him, each of them wanting a few minutes of the big guy's time and attention. A shapely, brown-skinned deputy clapped Trueblood on the back, earning her an icy expression from the sheriff that spoke volumes. Clearly, he wasn't the touchy-feely type. It was a bit of a relief knowing he didn't reserve his grumpiness solely for her. His gruff demeanor seemed to be part of his personality.

“
Hey, Darcel. Remember me?” the female deputy asked with a look of expectation on her pretty face.

She felt like a deer in the headlights, particularly since she couldn't remember having met her before. “Hi there,” she said in a friendly tone. “You look familiar, but—”

“
I was a year behind you at Liberty Creek High. I'm Ella. Ella Jones.” She offered her hand and then shook Darcel's vigorously, applying extra pressure to her handshake.

Darcel winced. “Of course I remember you, Ella. I had no idea you were a deputy.” She remembered Ella as being a top athlete at school, along with the fact she had five equally attractive and athletic sisters. Matter of fact, her older sister Jolene had been in her graduating class.

“
Yup.” She beamed proudly. “This is my fourth year on the job. If all goes right this year,” she added with a conspiratorial wink, “I'll make deputy of the year.”

Bodine walked past and rolled his eyes heavily upon hearing Ella's comment. It was all she could do not to burst out laughing at his beleaguered expression.

Darcel watched the way Ella followed Bodine with her eyes. Her gaze was filled with pure worship. She was a goner, Darcel thought with a measure of pity. Although Bo barely spared her a glance, she was all goo-goo eyes and lingering looks. Clearly, she was crazy about the man, despite the fact he didn't seem to know she existed on any level other than his co-worker.

“
I'm sorry about all the trouble with you being a witness to a murder and all,” Ella said in a rambling voice. “But I promise you the Liberty Creek Sheriff's office will serve and protect you till we take the shooter into custody.”

Trueblood had walked up behind Ella and, unbeknownst to her, was standing in back of her, listening to her every word.

“
I'd trust Sheriff Trueblood to keep me safe if I had a killer on my trail,” she continued in a chirpy voice. “But just between you and me,” she added with a goofy grin. “I'd be over the moon if Deputy Bodine was my twenty-four seven bodyguard, if you know what I mean.”

“
Ella, isn't there some paperwork you need to catch up on?” Trueblood asked with a frown.

Ella made a face, acknowledging she'd been busted by her boss. “Yes, Sheriff,” she answered with flushed cheeks. “I'll get right on that.”

As he ushered Darcel into his office, Trueblood left instructions to show the sketch artist into his office as soon as she arrived. The phone was ringing off the hook, and with a few angry curses, he reached for it and began talking in procedural jargon. A huge, gaily wrapped basket filled with treats sat on his desk, courtesy of the Ladies Guild of Liberty Creek. Darcel could see their signature stationary from a mile away since it was dotted with hearts and contained the tagline “From our heart to yours.”

The smell of baked goods hovered in the air mixed with the crisp scent of apples and cinnamon. Darcel wanted to gag. Half the women in the Ladies Guild were desperate old biddies and the other half were married women looking for some loving on the side. She smirked at the thought of Trueblood being chased by the lonely senior citizens in town. Old Widow Jenkins popped into her mind, and for a brief moment, she found herself wondering about their relationship.

The gossip about the Sheriff and the widow had raced through town like wildfire, fueled by first-hand accounts and scandalous scenarios. One woman in town had sworn she'd seen them making out through the widow's large bay window. Although she'd eagerly passed the gossip on to some of her clients, she had to admit she'd never paused to question its accuracy.

And, in doing so, she'd earned a spot in Trueblood's hall of shame. Despite the fact he was giving her round-the-clock protection, she knew he still thought she was a malicious, reckless gossip.

A soft knocking at the door announced the presence of the sketch artist. As soon as Darcel saw the woman, she recognized her as the owner of the Desert Moon Cafe. Cherry Adams. She was a beautiful, exotic-looking woman with eggshell-colored skin, long, wavy black hair and slanted, dark eyes that hinted of her Asian heritage. Darcel had always thought of her as gentle-natured and earthy. Her long, flowing skirt and jade jewelry lent her a natural, laid-back air. Trueblood quickly hung up the phone and strode across the room to greet Cherry with a warm kiss on the cheek.

After introductions were made, Cherry sat down next to Darcel on a comfortable sofa and began to explain her process of making the sketch. In a kind and gentle manner, she described the low-key way in which she worked with a witness.

“
At no point do I ever want you to feel pressured or stressed. I try to put your images on paper so the sheriff here can make an arrest. Pure and simple.”

Darcel nodded then let out the deep breath she'd been holding. Her nerves were on edge, and her hands were shaking with anxiety.
You can do this
!
 
She began repeating the mantra in her head, mentally psyching herself up so she could get through this and ID the shooter.

“
I understand you're having some trouble remembering,” Cherry prodded gently as she pulled out her sketchpad and charcoal pencils from her oversized bag.

“
Yes, I am,” Darcel admitted. “Most of my memories from that night are crystal-clear. It's as if I'm simply blocking out the actual moments when Ronnie was killed.”

“
That's not uncommon,” she said kindly, her dark eyes reflecting a deep understanding and compassion. “Sometimes there's a mechanism in the human mind that protects us from traumatic situations. Don't think you're the first person this has ever happened to, Darcel.”

A feeling of relief swept through her upon hearing Cherry's words. Having this weird type of amnesia made her feel like a freak. She felt defective. It reminded her all too well of the fact she couldn't remember anything about the first five years of her life. She didn't remember a single face of a loved one, a lullaby, a family home, a cherished pet. Nothing. Perhaps after this ordeal was over, she would take steps to uncover the mystery surrounding her background and the circumstances of her adoption.

“
Why don't we start off with the things you do remember. Tell me about that night and I'll start sketching based on your descriptions.”

For the next half hour, Darcel described the events of that evening in extreme detail, including specifics about her own appearance, the car she'd been driving, and the atmosphere at Hangman's Wharf. As she recounted the moment when she heard the gunshots ring out, her palms began to break out in moist beads of sweat. She found herself describing Ronnie's slumped over body and the crimson stain on his shirt.

Her breathing began getting ragged as she willed herself to remember the rest. She tried to continue, but her mind went blank. There was nothing else she remembered after seeing Ronnie's dead body face down on the pavement. The next thing she remembered was pulling her car over after seeing the flashing lights in Trueblood's squad car.

“
Maybe we should stop now,” Trueblood advised as he handed her a cold glass of water. She readily accepted it and quickly drank the contents.

She watched as Cherry and Trueblood reviewed the sketches. Trueblood's face was grim and guarded as he looked at Cherry's work. As usual, he was keeping his cards close to the vest. She couldn't tell a damn thing by looking at his face.

“
May I see?”she asked, eager to see what Cherry had come up with in her sketches.

Cherry looked at Trueblood for approval, and he nodded his head in agreement. Cherry began to lay out all the sketches one-by-one on the coffee table. Darcel looked at the drawings with admiration. Cherry was an extremely talented artist. She'd brought Hangman's Wharf vividly to life in her sketches. She felt goose bumps pop up on her arms as she realized how chillingly accurate Cherry's sketches were.

“
Remember when I asked you to think about the shooter's image…how tall he was, skin color, build? This is what I drew based on your impressions.”

Darcel let out a cry of surprise as Ronnie's face stared back at her from the sketch Cherry was holding up. His deep-set, wide eyes, mahogany skin, and full lips had been rendered perfectly by the artist. A feeling of pity seized her insides as she thought about the life Ronnie would never get to live. He'd never get married. Never have a house full of kids. He'd never get the chance to straighten his life out and stop running the streets. Pity sliced through her at the senselessness of his death. She felt so badly for him and his grieving family.

“
You basically described the victim,” Trueblood said with a grim expression.

“
I'm still blocked.” She shrugged. “And no matter how I try, I can't get the image of Ronnie being shot out of my head. I can't get past that one moment.”

Cherry patted her on the shoulder. “It's all part of the trauma. Go easy on yourself. What you witnessed was violent and disturbing. The human mind isn't really trained to absorb that kind of shock.”

All of a sudden the door burst open to reveal a very pregnant Star being trailed by a frazzled-looking Case. Star moved through the doorway like a whirlwind, her copper-colored hair swirling around her as she stormed into the room.

“
What the hell?” Trueblood asked as Star swept passed him and threw herself at her best friend.

“
Darcel, are you all right? I would've tracked you down yesterday, but
certai
n
 
people went to great lengths to make sure I didn't know anything about the shooting.” She shot Case a murderous glare. “Some people seem to think pregnant women can't handle bad news.”