Shiloh Walker: Telling Tales

If they hadn’t gotten together, maybe people would actually trust each other. Maybe they wouldn’t automatically assume the worst of each other.

Kim walked away after pointing to the closed door at the end of the hall, folding her arms around herself, her head down. Kellan walked on, dark auburn brows arched over his hazel eyes as he listened to the stream of hostility coming from the room.

A regular tapping interspersed heavy steps. Carrie was pacing. She had been in an accident when she was a teenager, sitting in the backseat of a car when the friend who was driving ran a red light, and didn’t see the oncoming car in time to stop. One friend had been thrown from the car and had died instantly.

Carrie’s leg had been pinned and broken in three places, and as a result, she walked with a limp.

“…bitch. I can’t believe…damn it, get over here. I don’t care what you’re in the middle of,” she was saying.

Kellan arched a brow, hardly able to believe the harsh, angry voice was Carrie’s. Oh, he knew the stoic mother figure she presented to the community wasn’t her real nature. But he’d never before heard such clear evidence of it.

He lifted his hand and knocked loudly, right in the middle of her next sentence, and had the honor of hearing superb acting skill as her voice went from shrewish bitch to suffering martyr.

What Kellan wouldn’t have given to have been able to see the transformation taking place, and not just hear it.

“Just…just one moment, please. I need a moment,” Carrie said, and he heard a very loud, very dramatic sigh. A moment passed and then the door opened, revealing Carrie with a pale but composed face. He wasn’t surprised that she still managed to suck people in. She looked entirely too motherly to be the person he knew her to be.

“Sheriff Grant.” She stood still, her eyes wide behind the thick lenses, her black plastic frames perched on her nose. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t really expecting any visitors-I told Kim I needed some time alone.” She smiled that sweet mother’s smile before she added gently, “I just…had a falling out with Darci. It’s been some time coming, and I don’t think we’ll be able to repair the rift this time.”

Kellan arched a brow and said, “I was under the impression that you two were never friends anyway. What rift would there be to mend?”

His sharp gaze caught the hot fury that flashed for the quickest second in her eyes. But he had to wonder, how bad had Darci pissed her off? Jibes generally weren’t enough to faze her.

“Now, that just isn’t true, Kellan,” she said, her smile dimming a bit. “Just because there’s been some strife lately between our gallery and Becka’s…well…you know she’s never been entirely right in the head.”

Kellan arched a brow. “I hadn’t paid much attention. But it’s never really been my concern anyway.” He shrugged as he moved over to the couch and settled down, watching Carrie with waiting eyes. “Exactly what did you need to talk to me about?”

Carrie’s eyes clouded for the briefest second, and Kellan watched, wondering if she had forgotten.

Finally, she nodded. With a downward glance at her hands, she heaved a deep, tired sigh.

Twenty minutes later, Kellan was stomping out of her house, aggravated beyond all belief.

Carrie had wanted to let him know that she suspected Darci was guilty of a crime that hadn’t even been reported yet. What an absolute fucking waste of time.

Becka had supposedly had money stolen.

And lo, Darci gets a fancy new camera that sells for thousands. Not only that , Carrie had seen her skulking around the gallery hours after it had closed.

“Wednesday. Around seven. Then I heard rumors that she was at the Golden Inn with Joe,” Carrie had said, her voice rougher, deeper than normal. For once, it wasn’t that annoying nasal twang.

“Are you sure you want to go on record with that statement?” Kellan had asked, reaching up to rub his neck. She’d called him here with an obviously contrived story, and now stood there, lying through her teeth. “Sure you want to tell me that she was seen at the gallery? Because if something comes up, I’ll be reporting your statement, as you tell it now. And you could be called as a witness.”

With her martyr’s sigh, Carrie had nodded. “I know that. But right is right, wrong is wrong. It will hurt to stand against Darci, she’s such a unique individual, and I do quite like her a lot. But I have to do the right thing.”

Kellan had arched a brow at her and suggested, “Then tell the truth. I really don’t think it’s wise for you to be telling an officer of the law that you saw a woman skulking around an office when twenty other people saw her at the skating rink. Myself included. And I’d really like to know how she could have possibly been at the Golden with some guy. When she was supposedly at the gallery skulking around, and at a skating party. Not just in two places at once, but three. Now, that’s impressive.”

Carrie’s mouth had gone tight as he continued, “Daisy is my cousin, you know. Well, second cousin. Her daddy and I are first cousins and he is going out of town this morning on business. He didn’t want to miss her party, so Missy threw one together Wednesday. And Darci met Missy around 5:30 that evening to help get stuff together. They went to the Wal-Mart in Madison for cake and stuff. They even have receipts, with Darci’s signature on them. Missy made damn sure that JT, down at the office, saw those. JT is a tad bit upset as well-she is pretty fond of both Joe and Darci. And that’s how I know all of this. I had no more than stepped foot in the station this morning when JT was all over me with this information. Took a few minutes to figure out what receipts and pictures had to do with the Golden Inn, but then I figured it out. Of course, this is the first I’ve heard about her skulking around the gallery.”

So what in the hell was going on? he wondered, dragging his mind back to the present. Some bitchy old loon calling him up to tell him obviously fabricated tales. Willing, even, to lie about it on record, it seemed.

And the rumors…hell, the rumors. There were so many, it was a wonder any of them knew what the truth was.

Hell, he knew who had started most of the rumors.

Her name was Carrie Forrest and, in a fit of fury, she had thrown him out of her house after he had informed her that her story-which was really rather pointless, since no crime had been reported-was full of holes. Holes large enough to drive a school bus through.

So what in the hell was going on with Carrie now?

“I hate that whey-faced, bratty little bitch,” Carrie whispered, as Beth walked back and forth across the room.

“If you had just made sure she was home,” Peggy murmured, shaking her head. “It’s a delicious little rumor. She could have lost her job. Nobody wants a tramp teaching schoolchildren, after all. But nobody will believe what’s being said about her, after the last one was such a bold-faced lie.”

Kim sat curled on the chair, biting her nails nervously.

Tricia Casey sat in the corner, sipping tea, her neatly styled gray hair swept back in a chignon, her eyes watching the tableau before her with great interest. “You told too many tales,” she said, shaking her head. “I know we’d rather just see Dreams die-” she smirked a little at her own personal joke. “And Becka losing Darci would do a lot of damage to her emotionally. She might not be able to handle it. But gossip is one thing. This wasn’t gossip. It was bold-faced lying. You’re not as good at that as I am.”

Beth scowled at Tricia and said, “Nobody would have listened to you. You’re too new here. They like Darci.” Beth’s lined face looked much older than it really was. Casting a bitter look at Carrie, Beth said harshly, “You caused this mess, Carrie. Damn it, you shouldn’t have done something so damned huge. Not with Darci. Too many people like her and she’s too damned outspoken. She doesn’t take things lying down. You should have figured that out by now.”