Caught in Darkness (13 page)

Still, she didn’t want to dwell on
that if she could avoid it. What had happened to Mandy was terrible enough; she
didn’t need the reminder of how long it had been since she’d seen her father’s
smiling face to exacerbate the grief. Ronald Wyndham’s murder had been tragic
and traumatizing, but never in the past sixteen years had Veronica found a way
to feel guilty for it. His death was not her fault. Mandy’s is.

That was so much worse.

She sucked in another ragged
breath, her vision swimming with alternating images from her father’s funeral
and the scene they had only just left behind. Another round of tears was
coming.

Seth’s arms came around her again,
this time effortlessly sweeping her up and carrying her to the couch just a few
feet away. He must’ve known she didn’t have the strength to walk that far. When
he sat, instead of settling her beside him, he adjusted her carefully and
tucked her beneath his chin. Her head was turned in, ear against his shoulder
and forehead brushing his throat, and she pulled in another breath. She was
comfortable, whether or not she had a right to be, and that made it easy to let
her emotions go.

****

For the first time in decades Seth
was seriously considering calling
Jasen
and asking
him to help. Another night had gone by since Mandy’s murder and, much to Seth’s
mounting frustration, Richards and his cohorts seemed to have vanished once
again. A part of him was actually hoping that the Slayer he’d run into several
nights prior had already found and staked them, but he imagined that was highly
unlikely. And the longer it took him the more he felt like he was failing her.

Veronica had cried herself into a
restless sleep that first night as he held her on her couch, and though she
seemed to be slowly doing better, it would be a long time before she forgave
herself for her friend’s death. He had tried explaining that she had no control
over their actions, but she hadn’t been ready to hear it. It was killing
something inside of him to watch her beat herself up, to watch her cry. That
brightness he’d associated with her when he’d first laid eyes on her in the
coffee shop was muted now, and though he was fairly sure that it was only
temporary, he hated it.

“Dammit,” Seth cursed under his
breath as he slid back into his car. Once again he’d been forced to detour to
Robert’s office for an update that could have been handled over the phone. Robert
had men helping in the search now, scouring the city for Richards and the
Wilson brothers. He thought he was being helpful and it had taken more control
than usual to keep from growling that he was actually making things harder. Robert’s
men were inexperienced trackers, and their heavy-handed presence would only
encourage their prey to stay locked in their dens. And if they were really
unlucky it would draw the Slayer’s attention.

His hand was hovering over the
keys, poised to roll the engine over, but he hesitated. The clock was ticking
before Richards took another step, and if his pattern continued then he would
only be escalating the damage. The thought of who might end up dead next was
frightening. It’s time, Seth realized with a frown and a sigh.

He leaned back in his seat, tugged
his phone out of his pocket, and dialed. Innocent lives were more important
than any pride he was still holding on to.

“Talk,”
Jasen’s
familiar, even tone greeted a ring and a half later.

Seth
hesitated
only a beat before replying, “It’s Hunter. Things have gotten worse and I can’t
afford to let this drag out much longer.”

“Are you asking for my help?”
Jasen
asked,
the faintest influx
of teasing in his voice now.

“Yes,” Seth confirmed abruptly. “Two
casualties so far: one vamp—our informant—and one human. And a couple of days
ago I ran across a Slayer.”

The almost humor was gone from
Jasen’s
voice when he spoke again, saying, “Fun. The
informant I get, but why’d they go after a human?”

The hesitation returned, but Seth
did his best not to let it show. Life would be easier if
Jasen
didn’t know, at least not yet, about his connection to Veronica. “A human woman
was actually the one who identified the traitors. They targeted her, but she
escaped. The victim was a friend of hers.”

Jasen
was
quiet for a second before he said, “You can give me the details when I get
there. I’m finishing something up here,
then
I’ll
catch a plane.”

Seth didn’t bother thanking him
before pulling the phone from his ear and disconnecting. His stomach was
twisted with unease over calling
Jasen
for
reinforcements, but he knew it had to be done. He just hoped that
Jasen
would be in a reasonable mood when he arrived.

****

It was Friday morning already and,
other than a few police, the only people Veronica had talked to since Mandy’s
death were
Allison, Seth, and her boss. She’d received an
email the day before from Mandy’s parents telling her that they were sorry
she’d had to see her like that and that they’d let her know when the funeral
was. Seth had stayed until well after sunrise the first night, and he’d been
over several times since. It was touching to know he cared and that he wanted
to help, but she was starting to worry that taking care of her was hurting his
investigation. Not that he would admit to it.

Since her boss had insisted that
she not set foot in the coffee shop before Saturday Veronica was curled up on
her couch, still dressed in her pajamas, when someone knocked on her door at
shortly before eleven. She’d been attempting to lose herself in one of her
favorite romantic comedies and she jumped half a foot at the unexpected sound. Who
would be coming over? Allison or Seth would have called first. Uncertain, she
reached over and
paused
the movie, wondering if they
would knock again.

They did.

Okay, Veronica, calm down. So
someone was knocking at her door. That wasn’t the end of the world. Releasing a
breath, she pushed to her feet, tugged the throw blanket she’d been under
around her shoulders, and started toward the door. She hoped it wouldn’t be
someone she knew, because her hair was a mess. But at least the bruises around
her neck were finally gone. She reached the door and tilted her head in order
to see out the peephole, and her eyes widened at the sight of the familiar,
faded blonde hair and somber face on the other side.

“Mom?” she asked as she pulled the
door open. She wasn’t even sure what else to say: her mother almost never came
to her house.
And certainly not without calling ahead.

Carol Wyndham offered her a small,
sad smile and stepped
up,
not speaking until she’d
wrapped Veronica in a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry about your friend.”

“You…heard?” Veronica found herself
asking. It seemed like an odd question and she felt guilty for not having
called and talked to her mother in the past several days. She just hadn’t
wanted to go over everything again.

“Of course I heard,” Carol said
gently. “And I assumed you weren’t working today, so I thought I’d just come
over. Is that okay?” She released Veronica at that point, stepping only
slightly back but keeping Veronica’s hands in hers. “If you’d rather I come by
later, I would understand.”

Veronica swallowed and shook her
head. “No, today’s good.” She stepped backwards, her mother releasing one hand,
and gestured with her now-freed hand as she added, “Come in.”

As she stepped inside Carol
declared, “Now, just so you know, I didn’t come here so that you could rehash
those terrible details. I just want to know how I can help, and if you’d like
some company for whatever you’re doing.”

With a glance toward the living
room—which, fortunately, wasn’t so bad—Veronica replied, “I would love some
company. We’re watching movies, and when we get hungry we’re ordering pizza. I’ve
got drinks in the fridge, though.”

“That sounds like fun,” Carol
stated with a nod. She didn’t cringe at the idea of an entire day of
unproductive laziness, but instead she started toward the couch calmly.

Veronica followed her mother, a
smile tugging at her lips. She hadn’t expected her mother to be uncaring by any
means, but she would never have expected her mother to behave like this. Since
her husband’s death Carol had slowly begun pushing everyone away, with the
exception of her daughter, and when Veronica had finished high school she’d
seen some of the same signs. They’d grown apart in so many ways, despite all of
the things that bound them.

But, today, that all felt like a
bad dream. Veronica sat back on the couch, beside her mother, and rested her
head on Carol’s shoulder. Carol covered Veronica’s clasped hands with her own,
even giving them a squeeze as she told the movie to resume. They sat in
comfortable silence, even laughing quietly at some of the better moments, until
the movie was done.

Carol was shifting, preparing to
get up to switch DVDs for their next movie, when Veronica heard her own voice
fill the air. “Does changing the furniture around so often help you not miss
Dad as much?”

She regretted the question as soon
as it was past her lips. Yes, she had always wondered about the psychology
behind her mother’s furniture-shifting obsession, but she had never truly
broached the subject. Any time she ever came close, her mother shut down the
conversation, and that was something she really didn’t want to cause in that
moment. “I’m so—”

“No,” Carol replied quietly,
leaning back into the couch.
“Not really, at least, not
anymore.
I don’t think it ever did.”

Eyes wide, Veronica lifted her head
from her mother’s shoulder and studied her profile. Carol’s head was tilted up,
eyes on the ceiling, but her expression was calm.

“The truth is,” Carol continued, “I
hate that furniture. I hate that house. I even sort of hate this city.”

“Then why don’t you move?” Veronica
asked carefully. She wanted to keep her mother talking, but she also wanted her
to know that she was listening. She’d never heard her mother speak so honestly.

Carol sighed and said, “I can’t.” She
lifted her head and turned a sad smile to Veronica, adding, “Barely a week
before he was killed, your father came up to me out of the blue and asked if I
had ever considered moving. He said he’d heard about a new, higher-paying
position with a different branch of the company that he was qualified for, but
we’d have had to leave the state.”

Veronica stared at her mother
silently, riveted to the words falling from her lips. She had never heard this
story before.

With a shake of her head, Carol
continued, “I said no. I told him that we had too good a thing here to just
walk away, and that you wouldn’t be happy having to leave all of your friends
behind. He pushed, for reasons I’ve never understood, and we argued for the
first time in years. But I refused to move. ‘We have everything we need right
here in this city,’ I’d said. So now I have to stay, because I told him that
that was what I wanted.”

“Mom,” Veronica mumbled, her eyes
burning. Her mother hadn’t talked that much about her father since she’d
graduated high school, when they’d ended up crying over how desperately they
wished he could have been there. She shoved her tears aside and leaned forward,
wrapping her mother in a hug. “I love you.”

Carol held her close, her voice
still sad, and replied, “I wish there was more I could do to help, Veronica. But
I really am right here, though I know I haven’t always shown it.”

It was a long minute before they
sat back, Veronica wiping at her eyes, and with a smile she asked, “Would you
be up for going out for dinner tonight instead?”

Chapter Eight

Sunday saw Veronica’s successful
return to work, where both of her coworkers for the morning—Nikki and Jake—gave
her big hugs along with a pick-me-up mocha. And, right at ten-fifteen, the
bells over the door jingled as Seth stepped inside. There was one customer ahead
of him, but she was already handing over the necessary money and then it was
Seth’s turn. Veronica hadn’t seen him since early the day before and her smile
was automatic when she looked up, into his sunglasses. “Good morning,” she
offered. She was well aware that her tone wasn’t so much professional as
personal.

His lips lifted softly and he
replied, “Good morning. I see you made it in today.”

She nodded unnecessarily and said,
“I missed nearly a week. I was starting to feel guilty.”

“That’s understandable,” Seth
agreed, the bells jingling again behind him. His lips fell into a neutral line
and he added, “I suppose I should place my order.”

Still smiling faintly, Veronica
asked, “Are you mixing things up today?”

“Nope,” Seth replied, another faint
lip-twitch lighting his face. He held out the money as she typed it in and,
with a final nod, turned and made his way toward the pickup shelf.

Veronica deposited his change in
the jar for him as she turned her attention to the next customer, wondering in
the back of her head why they had to suddenly have a steady flow of customers
when Seth showed up. The bells signaled another arrival before her current
customer was done and she knew she wouldn’t get to talk to him again until
after her shift at best. The teenager in front of her stepped away then, and
Veronica’s eyes landed on one of the last people she wanted to see. Cliff.

Barely biting back the groan of
irritation, Veronica mustered up another professional smile and said, “Good
morning.” The difference between her greetings, though the words were the same,
was glaring even to her own ears. She almost felt bad.