Page 71 of Christmas in Whitehorn
Sheriff Rafe Rawlings arrived at Darcy’s place just before nine the next morning. “Just a few simple questions,” he said politely as she slipped into the front seat of his car.
She tried to tell herself that the good news was he hadn’t put her in back, where the criminals sat. Nor had he slapped on handcuffs. As they drove off, she glanced back at the duplex. Mark’s truck still sat in his carport. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t been home all night, nor had he arrived that morning. Where was he and what was he thinking?
Three hours later she still didn’t have an answer. She’d answered questions until her throat was sore. No, she hadn’t seen anyone suspicious hanging around the café. Yes, she’d turned off the stove and unplugged both coffee stations before leaving. She explained about the checklist and how she’d followed it so closely because she wasn’t used to closing up at night.
That statement had brought a whole new line of questioning. Why had she suddenly asked to work that night if she didn’t usually. Darcy tried to stay calm.
“I didn’t request the shift change. There was a whole big mess with scheduling.” She cupped her hands around the coffee the sheriff’s secretary had provided and tried not to wonder if her interview was being taped or recorded without her knowledge. “One of the waitresses needed time off in the afternoon for a birthday party for her daughter. Somebody on nights needed to work a morning shift. Someone else had a doctor’s appointment. We all switched everything around and no one was willing to fill in at night.”
She glanced at the sheriff and tried to smile. She doubted she was successful. “The people who work it, really like it. The rest of us try to avoid it. Finally I said I’d close. It doesn’t happen very often and I try to cooperate so that if I ever need to change, people are willing to trade with me.”
Rafe didn’t look at her as he scribbled on a pad. Darcy folded her arms over her chest. While the temperature in the room felt pleasant, she was chilled all the way to her soul. Her stomach tightened every time she thought about Mark. Why hadn’t she seen him? Was he really busy or was he avoiding her? She hadn’t done anything wrong, but would he believe her? Did he think that once again he’d gotten involved with a criminal? Was this situation reminding him of the one with Sylvia?
The sheriff walked her through the evening again. Darcy felt exhausted. Some of it was the interview, but most of it was probably shock and the fact that she hadn’t slept the previous night. No matter how many times she showered, she couldn’t get the smell of smoke out of her memory.
“That’s it for now,” Rafe told her. “You’ll be hearing from the arson investigator. He’ll want to talk with you—probably later today.”
She nodded. “I lost my job when the Hip Hop burned down. I won’t be going anywhere.”
Rafe didn’t seem overly sympathetic. “One of my men will drive you home. Thank you for your time, Ms. Montague.”
She thought about asking if she was now allowed to leave the city, but she didn’t want to start trouble. No doubt the sheriff would want to know why. When she was up to visiting her brother, she would call the sheriff’s office and make sure it was all right with them.
* * *
Mark wasn’t home when Darcy was dropped off by a young deputy. She knocked on his door for several minutes, even though she knew it was pointless. His paper still lay in front of his porch.
She grabbed it, then headed for her own place. After fixing coffee, she sat down at the table to distract herself with the headlines. Maybe she could even work up enough energy to look through the want ads, now that she needed a job. Anything to keep her from thinking that it had been way too long since Mark had disappeared the previous night. He’d given her his truck to get home, but he’d never said he would call. And he hadn’t.
What was he thinking? Did he blame her for the fire? Had he disappeared from her life for good?
Pain stabbed through her chest. She gulped in a breath, wishing it was some medical problem that could be fixed by a pill or more exercise—only she knew it was something much harder to cure. She ached for the loss of all she’d ever wanted.
After being alone for so long, she’d finally allowed herself to get involved and fall in love with someone. After five years of struggling, she was nearly in reach of some financial peace of mind. In a matter of one evening, everything had been taken away from her.
Just to make things even worse than that, she might still be a suspect in the fire.
Her mind raced. Whitehorn wasn’t a big place. Where would she find another job? What about Dirk? She had to keep him in the Madison School. There might be some financial aid. Lord knows she was more destitute now than she’d ever been. Maybe she should call Andrew and talk to him. She reached for the phone only to remember that he was on vacation the week between Christmas and New Year’s.
Darcy resisted the urge to curl up in a ball. Somehow she had to find the strength to pull it all together. The past five years had taught her how to be a survivor. She would get through this and move on with her life. If that meant getting over Mark, she would do it.
But the thought of being without him hurt too much. To keep from focusing on her pain, she opened the paper and scanned the headlines. There was a picture of what was left of the Hip Hop and a long article. She read it through, at first only noticing that she wasn’t listed as a suspect. Then she actually absorbed what the article said. Her mouth dropped open.
“Treasure Chest Of Gold And Jewelry Found In Café Foundation.”
Darcy blinked. Gold and jewelry? In the foundation of the Hip Hop? Was it possible?
She read the article more carefully, but there weren’t any more details. Just the mention that “the sheriff’s office was investigating.”
Where on earth had it come from? Was the treasure the reason for the fire? Had someone found out about it and been trying to steal it?
Someone who needed money?
Darcy’s heart sank. She would certainly qualify under those circumstances and Mark knew it.
She wadded up the paper and tossed it across the room. She had to do something, anything, to keep herself from going crazy. She rose and headed for the living room. There were open boxes under the tree. Maybe if she straightened up, or even gave the place a good cleaning, she could keep from thinking about the disaster that was her life.
She cleared out boxes and wrapping paper, shoving everything into the large carton that had held her bakeware. As she worked, she tried not to remember how perfect Christmas Eve and Christmas Day had been. How Mark had been so generous to her and the way he’d really seemed to enjoy the time they’d spent at Dirk’s school.
