Debrah and Andrew Smith had both come from money, but that didn’t stop them from wanting more. They took to the business world, becoming a force many respected. Debrah and Andrew were inspiring. The perfect role models for a child with a growing mind like Darling.
So when Darling’s childhood friend Annmarie Moreno’s father accused the tycoons of running a string of Ponzi schemes, everyone including Darling couldn’t help but not believe him. It was absurd, she had thought, but Annmarie’s father didn’t back down.
So Debrah and Andrew made sure to prove him wrong, in a very public way. A newspaper article and a televised interview painted a picture of their innocence, and their accuser’s jealousy and greed.
It ruined his career and social standing in the community. He left the city with Annmarie and life returned to normal.
Until Darling received an anonymous email claiming the evidence that her parents were lying was about to be thrown out. She was given an address and told what to look for, and less than thirty minutes later, Darling’s entire world had changed.
That was also the first time she had ever met Oliver—standing in a Dumpster, holding the first clue in a series that would prove her parents had lied.
And destroyed a man’s life because of it.
Since then she’d gone down the rabbit hole and found nothing but corruption. Bold-faced lies that built up until the moment she realized they would travel great lengths to ensure their fame and fortune were never threatened. That was the moment she asked Oliver to run away with her. Little did she know as she stood there watching him walk away, tears blurring her vision, that within the month, she would be on a plane to Maine, to a small town named Mulligan.
Now, as Darling pressed her hands to her cheeks, unable to feel her tears, she mused how her end felt intrinsically connected to the beginning of her adulthood.
Corruption.
Despair.
Oliver.
The last point—the man with golden hair—didn’t hold the same dark weight as the first two points. Even if he had denied her all those years ago, she couldn’t find the heat behind her anger for it. In fact, she realized the anger wasn’t there at all anymore. She liked the life she had made since. She liked to think she had made a difference and left a mark in the lives of those she had met and helped through the years.
All Darling felt now was a needling of regret.
She should have kissed Oliver when she had the chance.
Thinking of kissing him replaced an ounce of cold with an ounce of warmth. She hoped she could hold on to it for a long while.
Darling closed her eyes, took a deep breath and stood. It wasn’t the most graceful of movements, and she did struggle, but in the end she was back on her feet.
The moonlight hadn’t waned while she had reveled in her breakdown. She let her eyes adjust and started to turn in a circle to see if she could make out anything else. She stopped halfway through the cycle.
She was in a field of short, dead grass. A tree line darkened the distance, giving her no bearings for where she actually was. However, it was the hunk of black metal to her direct right that made her heart flutter. Without the moonlight, she might not ever have seen the car.
With an extreme amount of caution, she dragged her heavy feet and closed the space between her and her possible savior. Darling wasn’t sure if she wanted someone to be in the car or not. Her rising grief and fear had kept the idea of her attacker being nearby from her mind. What if this was her attacker’s car? But why would the attacker still be here? If her body hadn’t been numb, she would have felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as the idea of someone staying behind to watch her crept in.
No one jumped out from behind the car to grab her as she neared it. She circled it anyway. Better to see the attacker now than drop her guard and be surprised later. It wasn’t as if she had much of a chance to defend herself either time, though. When she was satisfied she was alone, she peered into the car to find it was empty save for some clutter in the front seat floorboards. She tried the driver’s door handle and let out a shaky breath. It was locked.
The other doors also wouldn’t open. Scouting the immediate area, she found a rock that fitted in the palm of her hand. Squaring her shoulder, she approached the backseat’s right window.
She threw the rock and watched as the window only cracked.
“Co-come on!”
She scooped the rock back up and threw it again. This time it missed the window completely. Trying to aim when you couldn’t feel your throwing arm or hand was definitely difficult. The third time she was able to widen the crack. At this rate she would freeze where she stood.
I can’t feel my face, she thought with a new sense of determination. I need to get into this car.
This time she gripped the rock and took a deep, shuddering breath.
Go through the window.
The sound of glass shattering cut through the silence.
She dropped the rock, ignoring how the new cut across her hand dripped blood, and unlocked the back door. Reaching around the front seats, she hit the unlock button for the rest of the doors. It felt like so much work, but she finally managed to sit behind the wheel with a slight feeling of accomplishment.
There were no keys in the ignition or anywhere else in the car, as far as she could tell. Her inner optimist hung her head. The center console had CDs in it, and the glove compartment was filled with napkins. Food wrappers littered the floorboard. A silver watch stuck out from under one. but Darling had little use for that. The small hope that she would be able to drive away or, at the very least, turn the heater on, withered away as the rest of her search turned up empty.
She would have to wait it out until the sun came up. The car was a few degrees warmer than outside. If the wind was kept at bay, she might survive the night. In a last-ditch effort to find something to save her, she hit the button that popped the trunk. Once more she pushed back out into the cold.
The trunk contents didn’t give her any relief. A bag of tools and a greasy, balled-up hand towel. Darling cursed but grabbed the towel and, after a quick thought, the yellow-handled hammer. She settled back into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on top, draping the hand towel over her shins. It didn’t warm her, but at least it was something.
A few minutes went by. Exhaustion was trying to drag her into sleep.
Leaving her naked in the cold Maine darkness sent a pretty clear message. Someone wanted her to die but didn’t want to get their hands dirty.
Darling just hoped she could make whoever that was regret it. She might have been naked, hurt and as cold as a Popsicle, but she wasn’t dead. Debrah and Andrew Smith had passed on the drive that kept Darling from cracking again.
With a small smile, Darling formed a thought so clear she wondered if she had actually said it out loud.
You should have killed me when you had the chance.
* * *
OLIVER WAS SECONDS from calling Rachel for the third time when the chief jogged over to him. There was no mistaking he was excited.
“We tracked her phone!”
“What?” Oliver followed him to the cars when he didn’t stop. “I thought you couldn’t if the phone was off.”
“We can’t. It just came back on.” Oliver’s mouth opened in surprise.
“I’ll follow you.”
He left no room for the chief to mistake his statement as a request. For the first time since he had met the man hours before, the older man laughed.
“I knew you would.”