Darcy waited up until almost midnight for Jon. She had been pacing the floor, solving the crossword puzzle in the paper, and doing little chores around the house to keep herself awake for when he got back. Now she sat down on the couch, tired and worn out from the adrenaline not just of today but of a lot of things piling on top of each other over weeks. Smudge climbed up onto her lap and began purring, a warm and comfortable weight. She stroked his fur over and over, rhythmically, calmly…
"Darcy?"
Her head bounced up from the back of the couch and her eyes popped open and she stifled a yawn that almost came out as a scream when something with claws and fur leapt its way off her lap. Smudge, she realized. She'd fallen asleep with the cat on her lap.
Jon stood over her, baggy circles making his eyes dark. He had been gently shaking her arm to wake her up. "Hey, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
She stretched, feeling the crick that had formed in her neck from sitting at an odd angle in one place for so long. "No scared me." She cleared her throat. "You didn't scare me, I mean. Guess I fell asleep. What time is it?"
"It's after two in the morning," he told her, sitting next to her to take off his shoes and toss them at the nearest wall. "I thought you'd be up in bed already."
She stretched again, ending up close to him with her arm around his neck and her head on his shoulder. "I wanted to wait up for you. Is everything all right down at the station?"
After a moment's hesitation, she felt his body relax against her. "No. Everything is not all right. Unless you count booking your own sister on murder charges all right. Which I don't." He lowered his voice and scratched at his chin. "Then, I had to call our mom and let her know that Aimee is alive, and that she's okay, and oh by the way I just arrested her for killing someone else."
She heard the edge to his words. "It's alright to be mad at her, Jon. Do you want to talk about it?"
He turned to her, the lines on his face easing just a bit as he exhaled a breath. "Yes. More than anything, Darcy, I want to tell you about all this. If you're still willing to listen?"
When she nodded, he hugged her tightly, and kissed her lips. His mouth was soft against hers, and she wished they had the whole night to do just what they were doing now. Unfortunately, events kept conspiring against them.
She sat with one leg hooked over his, leaning close in, keeping her eyes on his the whole time that he talked to her about his family. His sister, the upstart child who always broke the rules and got caught up on the wrong side of the law early in life. But then, what could the family expect, he asked. She came by it naturally from their father.
Their dad had given their mother a loveless marriage where she never wanted for anything except his companionship. They didn't find out until much later that the money he brought in was actually scammed from other people. The law caught up with him, too, and sent him to prison. Twice.
Then there was Jon. Jon Tinker, the black sheep. He stayed in school, got good grades, and became a police officer. No matter how hard he worked, though, he couldn't escape the shadow of his family.
"She even came here," Jon said, miserably. "She came here, to where she knew I was, and she killed someone else."
Darcy bit her lip. "Um. About that? I read over my aunt's book again. I may not have done the procedure correctly."
Jon stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"According to the book, that process shows when a person has guilt on their hands. I thought it was to show murder, strictly murder and nothing else, but it turns out it's for just about any sin you want to mention that could hurt someone else. Hit somebody with your car, break their legs and then leave without confessing? That will show up as blood on your hands. Poison your neighbor's cat? Blood shows up on your hands. But, it's all to varying degrees."
"I'm not following you," Jon admitted. "You know I can't see the things you do. Dumb it down for me, will you?"
"It's simple. The worse the act of violence against someone else, the more blood the practitioner—that's me—should see. For a murder, Aimee's hands should have been dripping with blood. There should have been blood oozing out from her skin and pooling all over the interview room."
He winced. "Thanks for that image."
"Uh, yeah. Sorry. That was kind of gross, wasn't it? Jon, Aimee's hands had blood on them, sure, but there wasn't enough to show murder." She shook her head. "I don't think she did it."
"So, what are you saying Darcy?" he asked, his tone annoyed. "You think she poisoned someone's cat?"
"No," she said immediately, then rolled her eyes to the side. "Well, maybe. I don't know, Jon. You said she was into a lot of bad stuff as a young girl, maybe it had to do with something back then. And she has a warrant of arrest, don't forget."
"The warrant was for murder, too, Darcy. Don't forget that. Are you going to tell me she isn't guilty of that one, either?"
Darcy hadn't thought of that. Here was a woman accused of two separate murders, and according to Darcy's abilities she wasn't guilty of either one.
"Jon, I trust my abilities. I saw blood. She's guilty of something. I just don't think she's guilty of killing Vivica Chartrand."
Jon threw his hands in the air and pushed up off the couch. "You aren't being reasonable. I can't…I can't talk about this right now. I'm going to bed."
"Jon!"
"No, Darcy!" He realized he was yelling, and pressed his hands to his face as he drew in a deep breath. When he took his hands away again his face was calmer, but his eyes were still stormy. "My sister is a murderer. It's just something I have to accept."
She went over to him, put a hand gently on his arm. "What if I can prove she's innocent?"
"And just how do you plan on doing that?"
"Hey," she said, with a shrug and a smile, "isn't that what we do?"
His expression eased a little more. "Yeah, I suppose. We're a pretty good team."
And there was the other thing that had been weighing on Darcy's mind all night. "If we're such a good team, then why are you considering taking a job over in Oak Hollow?"
"They offered me the job, Darcy. I didn't go looking for it."
"That doesn't really answer my question, does it?"
Over on the stairs, Darcy saw Smudge reappear, looking at them through the staircase balusters, his cat eyes big and wide, curious what all the shouting was about.
She wanted to tell him it was okay, but she wasn't really sure herself. "I don't care who offered you the job," she said. "I just don't understand why you would keep something like that from me."
"I wasn't keeping it from you. I just didn't want to say anything about it until I knew it was a certain thing."
"And now you know?" It didn't come out so much a question as an accusation.
"Darcy, it's a good opportunity. A lieutenant's position. Good salary, good benefits. I'll be in charge of a lot of people, be my own boss."
She waited, but that was all he had to say, apparently. "And what about me?" she asked. "Where did I fit into this great opportunity?"
"What do you mean?"
She couldn't believe he'd just said that. "I mean, I didn't hear you mention me in there at all. What am I supposed to do while you're off taking this great opportunity?"
"Oak Hollow isn't that far away," he offered.
"Far enough, Jon. What, I'm just supposed to stay here and wait for you to come home on the weekends or come visit you sometimes?"
Now it was her with her voice raised. She couldn't help it. After everything they've gone through together, he was going to just forget her for a job?
"That's not what I meant," he said, almost like he'd read her mind. "I meant, you could come there with me."
Darcy was stunned. On the stairs, Smudge mewled. He didn't like the idea of leaving any more than she did. "My life is here, Jon. I have my business, I have this house. All my friends. Grace and her baby. I can't just leave all of this!"
They stared at each other. This had been all of the stuff Jon had wanted to talk to her about earlier today. Things that they should have talked about long before now. She wondered, if he'd brought this up sooner for her, the stuff about his family and about this great job offer of his, would it have made any difference?
Probably not. She didn't know what to say. Neither did he.
Turning away, Jon went to the stairs, and up to bed.
More frustrated than she'd ever been in her life, Darcy sat down hard on the couch, holding her head in her hands. Smudge curled up to her, stretching his paw out to her in a very human way. Stroking his fur, she held back her tears, and fell asleep.