Shiloh Walker: Telling Tales

“Oh, yes. Missy is the one who called me this morning, told me how her phone line had been burning all night, people wanting to know if it’s true, am I getting a divorce? Are you and me getting hitched…” Joe’s voice trailed off as he paused by a shelf, reaching up to pick up a blown glass ball, shot through with threads of red and gold. Tossing it from one hand to another, he turned and met Darci’s eyes. “Sorry, sugar. It’s not that I don’t respect you…but well…”

Darci smiled slightly. “A divorce, huh? That was quick.”

Carrie said sweetly, “Now, Joe, I’m sure you and your wife can work it out.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Cut the crap, Carrie. We all know the truth here.”

Joe propped his hips against one of the numerous work counters, staring at Carrie with glacial eyes. “I grew up in this town. I may be twenty years younger than you-but I’ve been watching your machinations since I was a kid. Reporters are very good observers. After forty plus years of living, well, let’s just say, I know you. No acts, please. Otherwise, I’ll go front page tomorrow with the phone call I got the other day. How you know information that Becka hasn’t shared with anybody , other than Darci and her assistant. One has to wonder how you know that. And I just may write that article anyway.”

Carrie blinked and the mask fell away. Slyly, she said, “You can’t prove anything.”

A slow smile curled his mouth and he said simply, “Miz Forrest, I don’t have to. Words are everything, as a gossipmonger should know. And people are going to have to wonder what you were up to, what kind of trouble you were trying to cause…when they have proof you were lying. Just how many people did you tell that story to?”

Carrie just smiled cattily. “Nobody knows I lied. And people just love a scandal.”

“Well, now that’s true…which I’m going to assume means you told quite a few people. But you should have picked a different night.” Joe grinned and Darci had to smile at the satisfaction she saw in his eyes. He continued, his voice level, eyes direct. “Because you see, Darci was at a skating rink for a birthday party for my niece. It was thrown together at the last minute because my brother-in-law had to go out of town for the next few weeks.”

“And Missy spent the morning getting her pictures from the party developed. She’s going to hit the entire town with them, if I know my sister.” Joe smiled, reaching up to scratch his chin. “You know how fast she talks, how much she likes to talk. By nightfall, damn near everybody is going to see those pictures- time-stamped pictures-of Darci at the party last night.”

If Darci wasn’t mistaken, Carrie growled. A low, furious sound under her breath before jerking her eyes away and focusing on her mangled leg, rubbing it with both hands.

“I’ve got to wonder-some people will brush it off, I know, but others? Well, I wonder, are they going to start to ask why in the hell you’d tell such an obvious lie?” Joe moved over to where Carrie was massaging her leg and he leaned down, a sardonic grin on his grizzled face. She lifted her gaze, staring at him with hatred as Joe said, “You should really try to get your story straight and make sure the lady you’re spreading rumors about is actually at home, alone , before you start telling stories about her.”

Darci felt the knot that had been present in her belly since last night loosen just a bit. She breathed out a silent sigh of relief and slid Joe a look of gratitude.

Of course, pictures weren’t going to mean a thing to Della. Her ears still stung from her friend’s furious phone calls. All the pictures in the world wouldn’t mean anything to Della.

Darci lifted her eyes and stared at Carrie, at the smirk in her muddy eyes. The old bitch knew what was circling through Darci’s head. Even though the story was falling to shreds around her, Carrie had at least succeeded in one thing. She had cost Darci a dear friendship.

Softly, Darci voiced the words that had crossed her thoughts earlier. “You have got to be the saddest, most pathetic creature I have ever met in my life,” Darci said, shaking her head.

Carrie froze, her eyes wide. For a brief second, naked pain shone in her eyes.

Joe chuckled. “Nobody’s ever called you out before, have they, lady? Does the truth hurt?”

“Get out!” Her pasty face turning florid with rage, Carrie glared at them hatefully as she shouted, “ Get out! Get out! Get out! ”

Smirking a little, Darci said, “Now maybe you have an idea of just how angry I am, Carrie.” Pacing back over to where Carrie sat, Darci snarled down into her homely, hate-filled face. “I’ve told you this before,” Darci said, her voice soft and low. “You didn’t listen. I’ll tell you once more and I’d advise you to pay attention this time. Stay away from me. Stay very, very far away from me.”

Kellan Grant looked up as Darci Law stalked away from Carrie Forrest’s house, her face white with fury, twin flags of color riding high on her cheeks. Her head was down so she never even saw him parked just a few yards away from her.

But he saw her…hell, he saw her in his dreams.

Sleek, slender with subtle curves and an ass that drove him crazy, the woman drew eyes everywhere she went.

Damn, but she was a cute thing.

He had thought so from day one when she had moved into town more than five years ago, all big eyes, gamine features and sharp tongue. Pretty mouth. Nice plump little breasts, sleekly rounded hips, nice ass…damn, he really liked that ass. He had been going through a messy divorce at the time and still didn’t care to be involved with a woman for more time than it took to get her naked and bury his dick inside her for twenty minutes or so.

His ex had taken him for a ride and he wasn’t interested in getting back on that particular roller coaster.

And he knew Darci wasn’t about unattached sex, uncomplicated fucks, or a quick lay. There was little about Darci that was uncomplicated.

He ran a hand through the thick, deep auburn hair he had been born with, and hated, most of his life. What in the hell was he doing here? He rested his hands on the steering wheel and told himself he really didn’t want to get involved in whatever mess this woman was trying to create.

“I need to have a word with you, Sheriff,” Carrie had told him when he’d called her back this afternoon. “It’s rather important…but very private. Just some information that you should know.”

So what in the hell was going on in her deluded mind now?

Knocking on the door, he waited for Carrie’s personal assistant to answer. Or her slave, as she was also known. Kim was basically Carrie’s bitch, and everybody, including Kim, knew that. Carrie said jump and Kim would only ask how high. Once upon a time, Kellan had seen slavish devotion in Kim’s quiet green eyes.

Now he just saw weariness.

She opened the door and said softly, “Carrie really doesn’t want visitors, Sheriff Grant.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But she called for me, and if she wants to talk to me in the next few days, now is the time,” he said politely. Maybe she’d say, that’s fine, another time…and he could go about his job without listening to the complaining of the tired old shrew.

Kim swallowed and Kellan felt his heart break a little for her as he glimpsed the unhappiness in her eyes. What in the hell did Carrie have over her? Or was Kim still convinced that Carrie was the woman she pretended to be?

Kellan knew better. Hell, he suspected half the town knew, but they were so used to the status quo that they didn’t say shit. Carrie and Beth…as he followed Kim up the stairs to Carrie’s studio, he imagined what the town might have been like if those two hadn’t hooked up. They had never really interacted, until the gallery, and life had been sweeter then.