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    Death Comes Home: Darcy Sweet Mystery, #19
    Death Comes Home: Darcy Sweet Mystery, #19
    Death Comes Home: Darcy Sweet Mystery, #19
    Ebook212 pages3 hours

    Death Comes Home: Darcy Sweet Mystery, #19

    By K.J. Emrick

    4.5/5

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    The mists have returned!

    Darcy Sweet couldn't work out why the mists would have come back to town. Things have been calm, almost normal, since she'd put the Pilgrim Ghost to rest and solved the mystery of Great Aunt Millie's death.

    So why would the mists be back now?

    The only thing it could be... the only reason she can think of is that trouble is coming to Misty Hollow once again. 

    But what could the trouble be? And was she prepared for it?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSouth Coast Publishing
    Release dateMay 17, 2016
    ISBN9781533784612
    Death Comes Home: Darcy Sweet Mystery, #19

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      Book preview

      Death Comes Home - K.J. Emrick

      CHAPTER 1

      Aunt Millie sat on the porch swing in the late afternoon sunshine, fanning herself against the unseasonable heat of an early June day with the brim of her big, floppy hat. Her long black dress swished as the swing rocked. You should have some lemonade, dear, she said, her voice sweet and kind for her niece.

      I’d like that, she answered, smiling at her aunt Millie. She knew this was only a dream. She didn’t care. As long as she got to spend even one more moment like this, it was worth it. In jeans and a tank top, she relaxed into the moment, wishing it could last forever.

      Darcy Sweet sat on the swing next to Millie, enjoying the lazy way it moved as they talked about everything and nothing, gossiping like two teenage girls.

      Of course, Darcy was far from being a teenager anymore. Thirty-six would be upon her in just a few weeks’ time. She reflected back on her life while she tried to keep the strands of her long dark hair from being blown across her heart-shaped face. Living here in Misty Hollow had been anything but boring. Sometimes it had felt like there were more downs than ups in her life but all in all, she wouldn’t trade what she had for anything.

      Her life was peaceful, and content. Their nice little town in New England was thriving, with new business and new construction and a noticeable rise in population. She was married to the best man who had ever lived. And, speaking of the growing population, she and Jon Tinker had been blessed with their first child just five years ago.

      The smile that came to Darcy’s face couldn’t be helped. Colby Sweet was an intelligent and precocious child, the apple of her father’s eye. She was going to break hearts when she grew up. Before that time came around, she was going to bring all sorts of joy to her parents.

      Her agreement with Jon, when they married, was that they both would keep their last names. Jon Tinker. Darcy Sweet. Their children would take either name, depending on how they entered this world. Girls would be named Sweet. The boys, Tinker. Thus Colby Sweet had been born, and named, and loved by two doting parents.

      She might bring you all sorts of fluffy happiness, Smudge griped, rolling over onto his back and scratching at the air. But she’s already cost me a few of my nine lives, and I was already down one to begin with!

      Oh, for Pete’s sake, Smudge. Don’t be such a sour puss, Darcy joked with her big black and white tomcat. You know Colby loves you.

      Loves to chase me, you mean, he griped. I’m not a spring chicken anymore.

      You never were a chicken, silly.

      He eyed her from beneath half-closed lids. Now you have jokes?

      Why not? Life is pretty good from where I’m sitting.

      Yes, Great Aunt Millie agreed, but you’re not really sitting here, are you?

      She smiled sweetly as she said it, and Darcy laughed as the afternoon sun sank lower, and the shadows grew longer.

      Longer, and darker.

      If I lose any more of my lives to Colby, Smudge insisted, the only place I’ll be sitting is right here drinking lemonade.

      Oh, Smudge, Darcy said as she rolled her eyes. You don’t even like lemonade. You’ve really gotten cranky in your old age.

      He twitched his whiskers. You know what I mean.

      She did, of course. Little Colby thought it was a great game to see who could make it upstairs and down again the fastest, her or Smudge. She was only just finding her speed, and Smudge was getting old for a cat. Sixteen years translated to something like eighty-four in people years. Give or take.

      Even so, Darcy knew Smudge enjoyed the attention. He’d always been an active part of Darcy’s life and she was sad to know their time together might be near an end. At least here, in her dreams, he could imagine himself to be the young kitten he had been, once upon a time.

      Don’t mind him, Millie said. He’s still offended that one of his kittens wasn’t adopted out.

      Darcy laughed out loud at that. Smudge and Twistypaws—a pretty gray cat from town—had produced a darling litter of five kittens just two months ago, and all of them had gone to find good homes except a strikingly beautiful little girl cat with gray fur and three white paws and one single black ear tip. Tiptoe was making herself at home in Darcy’s house, right alongside her daddy Smudge. Darcy didn’t mind. In fact, she had intentionally held this one back from being adopted out. She liked the little kitten. And, she liked knowing that there would be another generation of Smudge’s family growing up in the Tinker-Sweet household.

      Isn’t it almost breakfast time? Smudge yawned.

      Oh, it can’t be that late yet, Darcy complained to Millie. I hardly get to see you anymore unless it’s in my dreams.

      Millie smiled and patted Darcy’s hand. You don’t need me hardly as much anymore, dear. You’ve grown into a fine young woman. Able to take care of yourself, and that’s a fact. I couldn’t be prouder.

      "That doesn’t mean I won’t ever need you.’

      Oh, goodness, of course not. I have tons of good advice left to give. You just never know when you might need an old woman’s perspective. Like mine. She hummed softly. Sometimes we see things that you youngsters miss.

      Smudge rolled over to sit at the edge of the porch, curling his tail around his paws as he stared up the road. Somethings coming.

      Now Smudge, Millie scolded him. This is Misty Hollow. There’s always something coming down the road. Doesn’t always stay on the road, either.

      Darcy followed Smudge’s line of sight. Her street led directly to town, close enough that she could ride her bike there. In really nice weather she could walk, although it took more time. Today was that kind of good weather.

      Or at least, it had been. The blue skies were beginning to cloud over. The warm breezes that had caressed Darcy’s skin a moment ago were now crawling over her bare arms with a chill. A cold front was coming, bringing a change.

      Up the street, hovering just above the ground, snaky little tendrils of mist coiled into view.

      Darcy woke up with a start. The dream was already fading away in bits and pieces. She remembered Millie’s words, mostly, and she remembered Smudge looking up the road at something that was coming their way. She wondered what that could mean. Maybe nothing. It could have been just a dream. Maybe.

      Staring up at the ceiling she gave herself a few more minutes to come fully awake.

      Her arm reached out to the other side of the bed, her hand fisting into the empty sheets and blankets. That’s right, she thought to herself. Jon was off with Grace at a working conference. Five days apart. After years of wedded bliss, it shouldn’t have been so hard to be without him for just a few days. Only, it was. She’d spent a long few hours the night before he left making sure he would remember her. It had been well worth the sleep they’d lost.

      The smile on her face widened and she bit her lower lip, knowing exactly what she was going to do the first night he was back.

      For now, she roused herself from her pillow and stretched with her arms above her head. She was wearing one of Jon’s shirts as pajamas over an old cut off pair of sweatpants. She could still smell him on the collar.

      At the foot of the bed, Smudge mrowled and rolled over. Without Darcy’s body warmth there wasn’t much reason for him to stick around. He was slow and careful as he teetered over the edge of the mattress and dropped to the floor. Not as spry as he used to be. Darcy knelt on the floor with him and scratched around his ears, Jon’s shirt sliding off one shoulder, listening to the old man purr.

      Getting pretty thin, aren’t you? Darcy told him. Maybe I’ll get you an extra helping at breakfast.

      Smudge meowed his approval.

      From the open doorway to the bedroom, a tiny handful of gray fur came racing in so fast that she lost control and tumbled sideways before digging her claws into the carpet so she could right herself and barrel into her father. Tiptoe the kitten was pure energy some days. She pushed her head against Smudge, playfully biting into the ruff around his neck.

      The two of them batted at each other with soft paws for a moment before Tiptoe made a mad dash for the door. Smudge chased after his daughter, eager to prove he could keep up, even if Tiptoe was already downstairs before he made it past the bedroom door.

      Laughing softly, Darcy bent one leg up to her chest and laid her cheek against her knee. She was going to have to check on her own daughter pretty soon.

      Stretching again, she got up and went to the window to draw the curtains open.

      The world was quiet outside on this warm Wednesday morning. Quiet, and familiar. There were just the two houses on her street. The one next door belonged to Izzy McIntosh. She’d have to shake a leg if she was going to beat Izzy to work. Her partner at the bookstore was always at work early. Darcy had made the right choice in giving her that job, to be sure. Life was always easier when you had the right friends…

      Huh.

      Out the window, she saw that the edges of the grass next to the road had become shrouded in white fog. Thin, wavy tendrils of mist crept their way over the ground. In that second, her blood turned to ice.

      Something’s coming, she remembered Smudge saying in her dream.

      Once upon a time, the mists in town had signalled the coming of trouble. Whenever bad things were about to happen, when bad people were about to do bad things, the mists would roll in and blanket the town. It was what had given Misty Hollow its name in the first place, way back in the past. Troubles had always been a part of their history.

      For more than five years the mists had stayed away from town. Things had been calm here, almost normal, since Darcy had put the Pilgrim Ghost to rest and solved the mystery of Great Aunt Millie’s death.

      Why would the mists be back now?

      It was possible that it was just weather. After all, there was such a thing as coincidence. Things did happen for no good reason.

      Just not very often.

      Reaching her left hand over to her right, Darcy felt for her great aunt’s ring that she wore on that finger. She twisted it around and around, feeling the intricate carvings under her fingertips. It was a nervous habit she did whenever something was bothering her. Usually, it made her feel better.

      In the pit of her belly, deep inside, she felt a strange little shiver. Her sixth sense, warning her like it always did when something strange was about to happen to the town, or to a friend, or sometimes to herself. That was what this felt like. Sort of. It was the same, but different.

      All her life she’d lived with the fact that she was different from other people. Her abilities and her skills weren’t exactly the sort of things that a high school guidance counselor knew what to do with. Instead of having a talent for drawing or a knack for dance, she could talk to ghosts.

      Try putting that on a job application.

      Then again, her ability had led her to experience any number of things that most people never even dreamed of. Darcy had gotten very good at trusting her sixth sense when it told her that things were wrong. That’s what she was feeling now.

      Only, this wasn’t quite the same. This time it was different.

      What were the mists trying to tell her?

      Closing the curtain again she decided to think about it later. After a good breakfast. If trouble was coming, she’d know about it soon enough.

      Mommy?

      That little voice brought her smile back. Turning around, Darcy found her daughter Colby standing in the doorway. She was rubbing her eyes and yawning, her pink bunny pajamas hanging loosely off her shoulders and pooling around her feet. Colby was still a little small for her age. Not that Darcy was worrying about it. The trees that took the longest to grow always became the strongest ones in the forest.

      Hey, Sweetie. Darcy wrapped her little girl into a hug and tousled her hair, which was already messy from sleep. It was a shade lighter than Darcy’s own and had these auburn highlights that came out when the sun caught it just right. The color of dark flame, as her daddy liked to say. There was a lot of Jon in that little girl’s face. There was a lot of Darcy in her, too, like how she smiled, and how she walked, and how she tended to speak her mind.

      And, like how she seemed sensitive to the ghosts around her.

      In Darcy the gift had been present since she was a little girl but had been mostly undeveloped until she came to live with Millie, but just like with growth spurts, talents like this tended to develop at their own pace. Darcy knew that. She couldn’t be sure Colby was sensitive with the gift, but there were hints. There had been plenty of times that Colby had shivered when Great Aunt Millie’s ghost was nearby. Darcy had found her nose to nose with Tiptoe before, sharing silent secrets as if they were having full-on conversations. Things like that.

      This gift of theirs ran through the women’s side of the family. If Colby really did have the gift, then there was no telling how strong it might become later in life.

      For now, she was just Darcy’s little girl.

      Still sleepy, Mommy. Colby yawned, tugging her favorite stuffie tighter under her arm. Her and the purple Bittie Bunny were all but inseparable. The floppy-eared rabbit with the sad eyes and the goofy smile had seen better days, but Colby loved him.

      Well, how about we go downstairs and have some breakfast? That’ll wake us both up. Then we can get you ready for the school bus.

      Pancakes? Colby asked hopefully.

      Darcy chuckled. Her daughter loved pancakes. Sure. I think we still have some blueberry mix left. How’s that sound?

      As they started downstairs, that tingly sense of wrongness started in Darcy’s belly again. With each step, it got stronger. It was enough to make her want to turn around and go back to bed. Crawl under the covers. Stay there the rest of the day. Maybe if she did, the feeling would go away.

      Well. Bad feelings or not, Colby needed pancakes.

      The stairs led down into the living room. It was an open space lined with bookshelves, where a couch stood facing the television and there was plenty of floor space to spread out and play a board game, or just relax. This room had been much busier when Ellen Gless and her son Connor had been living here. They’d found a home of their own now, and Darcy’s big house was emptier for it.

      The entryway to the kitchen was one of those rounded-top doorways. Through it, she could just see the edge of the square dining table. It was the same thing she saw every morning.

      Somehow, she couldn’t make herself go through that opening today. There was something bad on the other side of that doorway. She just knew it.

      Uh, Colby. Sweetie? Why don’t we go out for breakfast? Darcy knew she was being foolish. There couldn’t be anything that bad in her kitchen. In her own house. Still, it felt like if she went through that door, everything

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