The Dark of You by S.M. Shade
Chapter Seventeen
Those little girls never leave my mind. Over the next couple of days, I learn a lot about them. Some of the information is disturbingly easy to find with an address search online. Kay and Jessica Jacobs. A social media search of their names brings up a picture of them that’s a couple of years old, posted by their aunt. They’re posing with a boy around their age and two blond women. The post talks about how much she misses her sister and nieces. A quick click on her profile shows she lives a couple of states away, but it’s what I was hoping to see. Family.
The discovery is the deciding factor. They have family that can take them once their father is gone. They won’t go into the system. I want to do this. It isn’t a choice I agonize over in the least, and when I tell Reeve my decision, he agrees with a smile. It’s clear he’s only been waiting for me to say yes, because he already has a plan, and assures me he can take care of the body afterward.
First, we need to spend some time watching their house and following their father, Vernon Jacobs, to learn his schedule. We need to make sure there are no regular visitors that could show up at the wrong time.
Since he lives on a dead end street with little traffic, we can’t hang out or park near his house. We’d definitely be noticed, and while no one may give us a second look now, they may remember after he goes missing. Driving by once isn’t a risk, and that’s how we start our little stakeout early one afternoon.
The girls sit on the front porch, playing, and as far as we can tell, they’re alone. The ancient truck that was parked in the driveway is gone. “I guess the truck does run. Why did he make them take laundry in a wagon?”
“Maybe it wasn’t running then. Or maybe he’s just a dick,” Reeve replies. I’m betting on option number two.
After we drive by, I park on the busier road that crosses one end of their street. We won’t be noticed here and since there’s only one way in, we can see when Vernon returns home. It’s not an unpleasant experience, sitting and talking with Reeve in my car while we keep an eye on the street. Is this what date night with a murderer is like? The thought makes me giggle, and Reeve turns to look at me. “You’re having fun.”
It’s not an accusation. He sounds pleased.
“Because I’m with you.” Before he can say anything else, I point to the truck turning onto the dead end street. “There he is. It’s after eight. Maybe he works a mid-shift?”
“Only one way to find out. We’ll watch the house tonight, see if anyone shows up, and what time he leaves in the morning.” My stomach growls, and he grins at me. “After we grab you something to eat.”
We return to my house long enough to eat and grab a jacket. The days are hot, but nights can be cool, especially if it’s windy. We park on another block, then walk to the Jacobs’ house. The streets are mostly empty and no one seems to give us a second look. Adrenaline kicks my heart into gear when we enter their backyard and duck into the trees behind it.
Light comes from most of the windows, and I’m tempted to look inside, but there’s no reason to risk it. There’s nothing to be learned from watching him mistreat his girls until they go to bed.
Reeve sits with his back to a tree and motions for me to join him. The ground is cool through the seat of my jeans and leaves rustle as I get comfortable beside him. It’s not the most entertaining thing to watch, but the anticipation of wondering what we’ll see keeps me alert.
After a couple of hours, the lights go out one by one. No one has visited or left. Now we’re just waiting to see how early he goes to work. The stars are out, and I crane my head back to see them through the gaps in the branches overhead. A shiver runs over me when the breeze picks up.
“Come here,” Reeve says, and tugs me onto his lap. He wraps his arms around me, enclosing us both in his jacket.
The night inches by while we cuddle there together. Who knew stalking a man you plan to kill could be so romantic? I force myself to think about it a moment, to focus on the reality of what we’re going to do so it doesn’t start to feel trivial. I don’t want to be a psychopath who can take death lightly.
“You’re tensing up,” Reeve says, holding me tighter. “What’s going through your head?”
“I don’t know. I thought I’d be afraid, but I’m not. I’m excited, and that’s fucked up, isn’t it? I’ve changed. It’s like I’ve stepped outside my life and I can’t get back in. I don’t even know if I want to.”
Reeve shifts me on his lap. “Look at me, Darcy.” His face is dappled by moonlight through the leaves as he brings those amazing lips to mine, kissing away my self-doubt. “The dark of you is a beautiful thing. Don’t be afraid. Embrace it.”
It’s an experience I can’t even describe, having someone adore the darkest parts of you. It feels like there’s nothing I could do or say to push him away from me. And there’s nothing he could do at this point to scare me away from his side. I’ll slide right down to hell with him and love every second.
A light flips on in the kitchen window, and I sit up straight. “Reeve.”
“I see it. Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, we rush out of the yard and back to my car. I drive around the block to park where we can watch the end of his street again. It’s still early. The sky is scarcely brushed by the sun when his truck turns the corner and drives away from us.
“Five a.m. Where’s he going?”
“Follow him,” Reeve says. “Stay a good distance back.”
It may be early, but I’m wide awake now. Adrenaline thrums through me while I carefully track him for a few miles until he pulls into the auto parts plant. He parks and heads inside with a lunchbox in hand. “So much for the mid-shift,” I remark.
Reeve nods. “Let’s go. We’ll get some rest and come back this afternoon to see when he gets off. And where he goes.”
It’s a good plan. Rest is what I should do, but once we’re home and in bed, I can’t sleep. I’m too wired. Reeve doesn’t stir when I slip out of bed and move to the living room. My plan was to watch some TV and see if I could distract my brain, wear it out enough to shut down for a while, but my attention is drawn to my laptop.
It taunts me from the desk. No matter what else is going on in my life, there’s a hollow spot where my writing used to be. I miss it. It hits me how ridiculous it is that I’m brave enough to commit murder, but too afraid of what I’ve always loved to try again.
Just fucking do it, Darcy. Don’t be a coward.
Before I can change my mind, I sit down, turn the computer on, and open a blank document. There’s a story idea in my head that I’ve been doing my best to ignore. A few paragraphs are all I need to write, just to get started, to show myself I can. My gut churns, but as soon as my fingers hit the keys, I’m fine. Better than fine. I don’t let myself stop to plan or research. Just allow the words to pour out of me while tears of relief run down my face.
It’s something I know others don’t understand sometimes, how “writer” goes from being your job description to who you are. That the hours spent agonizing over your words and ideas aren’t made worth it by sales numbers or bestseller lists. It’s this feeling, that sensation of being taken into some other world and emptied out in some wonderful way. That’s the high we chase. I’ve missed it terribly.
It isn’t until hours later that I save what I’ve written, turn off the computer, and go back to bed. This time I fall asleep as soon as my eyes close.
Reeve stares at me from across the room when I open them again. He’s already up and dressed, ready to go. It takes me a quick cup of coffee to find my enthusiasm again. A few hours of sleep after staying awake all night isn’t enough, but it has to be.
We get back to the auto parts plant in time to see the shift change. It’s easier to be inconspicuous following Vernon in the afternoon traffic. He doesn’t go home where his two girls are alone, but turns the opposite direction. It’s not a huge surprise when he parks in front of a bar and goes inside.
After hours pass, and he doesn’t emerge, I turn to Reeve. “When?”
He knows exactly what I’m asking. “Monday. I need the weekend to get some arrangements in place. It’ll be easier to grab him on a weeknight, when we know he won’t be at the bar all night.”
“Okay, Monday.”
* * *
Reeve isn’t around much during the weekend. I’m not sure whether it’s because he wants to give me the space to write, or because he’s arranging things for Monday, but either way, I’m okay with it. He always comes back by the time I’m ready to climb into bed. I’ve gotten so spoiled falling asleep in his arms.
When Sunday comes, he’s up early, dropping a kiss on my lips before he leaves. As soon as I’ve eaten breakfast, I head back to my laptop. It’s one of those days when my first waking thought is an idea for my work-in-progress, and I can’t wait to get back to it.
The day slips away from me in the best way. I’ve missed this feeling so much. Everything around me is a distant buzz while the words fill the screen. Like before, the story falls together in my head faster than I can process it and get it out. Even after hours on my laptop, I grab a notebook to spend another hour jotting down notes and beginning an outline.
It helps me to push our plans for tomorrow and the anxiety surrounding that to the back of my mind for most of the day. Until Reeve comes back to let me know he has arrangements in place to dispose of the body.
We’re really going to do this.
We’ll take another abusive asshole out of this world, and those girls will get to grow up with family who can actually care for them. The plan is to grab him in the middle of the night when the girls are sleeping. They’ll never know anything except that he isn’t there when they wake up.
They won’t know he’s been dragged out to the trunk of my car, then brought back here to be executed and dismembered like the senator was. We got away with it once. What’s a little more blood in the soil? Reeve will take the body to wherever he knows it won’t be found and it’ll be over.
That’s one thing that chips away at me, not knowing where the body ends up. Not just that, but still being blind to a lot of things when it comes to Reeve. Look what we’re doing together. He should trust me to know more about him.
Tonight’s as good a time as any to talk to him about it.
It’s odd how normal the evening seems, considering what we’ll be doing soon. We sit on the front steps of my porch while our dinner of chicken and vegetables bakes in the oven. Sure, just an average evening of food, shower, murder, then off to bed.
The ludicrous thought makes me laugh, and Reeve glances over at me. “What?”
“I don’t know. Things feel so…ordinary. I guess I thought I’d be more nervous.”
A proud grin stretches across his face. “Because you’re ready.”
“I guess I am. I want to talk to you about something first.”
The tone of my voice raises a cautious expression on his face. Not a great start. “There’s so much I don’t know about you. After all this time together, I want to know you. Not just your body and how you make me feel. Before I become a part of this, I need you to tell me who you are. More than your name and how you feel about me. You know my past, what’s made me who I am, and I want the same from you. This time tomorrow we’ll both be murderers. What do you have to lose?”
When he doesn’t respond right away, I scoot close to him, pressing my side to his and take his rough hand in mine. “There’s nothing you can’t tell me. Nothing that’ll scare me away, Reeve. I love you.”
There, the words are out. For better or worse, he knows how I feel and what I need from him. The next move is his. The nervous anticipation in those few seconds of silence before he turns to face me is worse than what I feel for our plans tonight.
I’m snared in his feverish gaze, caught in green eyes illuminated by fading rays of sunlight. His hands slide over either side of my jaw to cup my face. He brings his lips to mine and removes my doubts in a matter of seconds. Tears rise in my eyes because his kiss says so much I needed to hear. Every shift of his lips on mine, every stroke of his tongue exploring my mouth with reverence screams that he feels it too. This isn’t one sided.
I run my fingers over the stubble on his cheek, kissing him back like I may never have another chance. If I held a shred of doubt over whether I was in love, it’s gone now. He’s everything. Everything.
His hands remain on my cheeks when the kiss ends, and he touches his forehead to mine. “I love you, Darcy.”
How those words fill me up, closing so many wounds. For the first time, I let myself dream of a future with someone. It’s not the typical suburban, white picket fence dream. No, ours may be splashed with blood and hidden in shadows, but it’s there.
Who knows how long we would’ve stayed like that, sitting on my porch, absorbed in one another if my alarm hadn’t started to blare from my phone.
I reach to silence it. “Sorry, it’s just to tell me the food needs to come out of the oven.”
He chuckles. “Go get it before we burn the house down.”
It’s difficult to pull myself away from him, and by the time I reach the door, I can’t resist a look back. He’s watching me. Always watching me. There’s something profound in his expression, but I can’t put a finger on what it reflects. Love? Fear? Sadness? Or am I only taken at the beauty of his rough face caught in the quality of the last of the evening light?
It doesn’t matter. He’s mine.
My nerves over our plans tonight have settled, and I hum as I pull the food from the oven, then set the table. Most of the time, we eat in front of the TV, but I’d like to sit across from him for a nice dinner tonight. Something civilized before we act like the animals we are.
The feeling that floods through me isn’t recognizable at first, maybe because I’ve never felt it before. Freedom. That’s what he’s given me. Freedom to be myself and not tamp down any parts of me that would be unsavory or frightening. For years I’ve tried to hide from the ugly truth of humanity, writing it into fiction to make it more palatable, but shutting yourself away doesn’t work. There’s always the knowledge of it, the heavy awareness of the world breathing hard outside the windows. Cruel, indifferent, and random.
I’m not afraid of it anymore. I’m not afraid of me anymore.
Reeve hasn’t joined me by the time everything’s ready. When I poke my head out of the front door, he’s no longer sitting on the step. I didn’t hear him come inside, but the man can move like a damn cat. “Hey, dinner’s ready!” I call out, ducking back indoors.
No answer. A quick look around the house reveals he isn’t anywhere inside. The night approaches fast, stealing more light by the second as I step outside. He must’ve gone to the shed for something.
No light comes from the shed when I round the corner so I continue around to the back of the house to see if he’s on the patio. It’s empty. Where the hell did he go?
“Reeve!” My shout filters through the forest, bringing no reply. After another trip around the outside of the house to convince myself he isn’t out there, I do a second search inside with no luck.
He showed up on foot, and my car’s here. He can’t have gone far. Did he realize we needed something else for our plan? This is why he needs a phone. That’s another subject I’m going to broach with him when he tells me about himself tonight. It’s odd for anyone not to have a phone, but I can understand why he wouldn’t want or need one. I’m not attached to mine either, but at times like this, I’d like to be able to get in touch with him instead of wondering what he’s doing or when he’s coming back. Surely, it won’t be long.
I sit on the front step to wait for him. As minutes roll into an hour and then another, the thoughts I’ve been trying to keep out start finding their way through. What if I scared him away by saying I love you? That’s ridiculous though, he said it back, and the way he kissed me, he meant it. We’re going to end the secrets between us. He’s going to answer my questions about him.
Isn’t he?
My mind rewinds our conversation. He didn’t actually agree to that, did he? I told him what I want and that I love him. He said he loves me. Nothing more. What if insisting that he tell me more scared him away? His words from the beginning of our strange relationship come back to me. “You have to decide if this is enough.”
At some point, I decided it isn’t. Another hour passes while I argue with myself, desperately trying to hold onto hope.
He wouldn’t leave just because he doesn’t want to answer those questions. He’s told me no before.
You kept pushing and assumed he changed his mind. You crossed the line he drew. He’s done.
No, he just told me that he loves me. Twice with that amazing kiss. My anxiety is blowing this out of proportion. He’ll be back.
That kiss wasn’t an admission of love. It was goodbye.
No, I refuse to believe that!
Anger rushes through me when I get to my feet. I’m being fucking ridiculous. He’ll be back. We have a job to do tonight, and I need to be ready. The front screen door falls shut behind me, and I stalk into the kitchen to clear the table of the cold food we never touched.
It doesn’t matter. We’re supposed to be leaving soon to head toward that asshole’s house and save two little girls from a terrible life.
Another hour passes while I distract myself by cleaning up and changing into dark clothes. The supplies we need for tonight wait in a bag in the shed. A sudden thought strikes me. What if he decided to do it on his own? To keep me from getting involved and possibly caught. Maybe that’s where he is right now. My heart climbs into my throat while my feet pound across the grass to the shed. If the bag’s missing, he’s doing this to protect me.
There’s no worse emotion than hope. Nothing else raises you high enough for the fall to be so devastating.
The bag sits where we left it. A sob leaps out of me a second before denial shoves its way in again. He could’ve still went on his own. It’s not like there’s anything in there that he can’t get somewhere else. Zip ties, tape, a taser. There’s no knife because he always carries one, just like I do.
He could still be there.
I have to know. I have to go.
The moon hides behind thick clouds, providing the perfect darkness for what I’m doing. Everything was planned out beforehand, down to where to park so we wouldn’t be seen putting him into my trunk. I know right where to go. There are no other vehicles anywhere around when I park, get out of the car, and cut through the woods to come out at the end of the dead end street just past his house.
Pale light shows through the windows, flashing occasionally. Probably from the TV. My breathing sounds loud. I try to get it under control as I slowly walk around to the back of the house. This is much more terrifying alone. The girls’ room is the first one I peek into, and they’re asleep on the pallet on the floor.
A patch of dead grass crunches underfoot, and I freeze, sure it was loud enough to be heard. Each step around the house is careful and planned after that. The kitchen stands dark and empty. Another bedroom with a sagging bed is lit only by a hallway light, but it appears to be normal, no blood or signs Reeve has been here. The living room is my last stop. It’s the scariest because if their father is home and awake, he’s likely there. What will I do if he sees me?
When I peek around the edge of the window, he’s visible, lying in a recliner in front of the TV, a bottle of whiskey on the table beside him. He’s passed out.
Reeve hasn’t been here.
I’m not sure what to do next. He could still show up to carry out our plan. It’s not like we had a specific time to do it. Just overnight. The thought of going back home to wait and wonder about him is awful. I’d rather be here, at least for now.
The spot where Reeve and I watched together from the woods isn’t hard to locate. Part of me held onto hope I’d find him there. Putting my back against a large tree, I stretch my legs out and wait. Unlike before, I’m not watching for the man inside. I’m watching for the man I love.
I don’t understand what’s going on. Why would he take off? He was as eager to do this as I was. It doesn’t make sense. The worry that my demand to know more about him drove him away is a persistent bug in my head, no matter how many times I swat it away.
My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. It’s been days since I’ve checked it, and I’m surprised it still has a charge, especially when I see ten missed calls. A few from my agent, but most are Thea. Her name is lighting up my phone again now. It’s not the best timing, but I don’t want her to surprise me by showing up again.
“Hey,” I answer, keeping my eye on the yard.
“Hey!” she screeches. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks other than a couple of “okay” texts! Then I see online that Midnight Terror is going to be a movie! Is it true? You got a movie deal and you didn’t tell me?”
Damn. It’s not supposed to be announced for a couple of weeks, but I guess the news was leaked. It’s not like I can tell her I’ve been so wrapped up planning a murder with my stalker that I’ve forgotten about everything and everyone else. “Yeah, it’s true, but it wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge yet.”
“Well, I’m not the public. I’m your friend.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been writing, and I guess I got caught up in it. I didn’t realize it’d been so long.”
She huffs. “Well, I’m glad you’re writing again.”
“Yeah, it just came back. But I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”
“Well, I want to know all about it, but I also have something to talk to you about. Do you remember I told you Paul and Dax’s band was doing well? They want to cut a record and there’s this studio—”
It’s so hard to focus on what she’s saying. Too much is roaring around my head while I stare at the empty yard. Something tickles my ankle, and I swat at it. “I’m sorry to cut you off, but this isn’t a good time. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Seriously?” she snaps. “Don’t bother, Darcy. Fuck.”
The line goes quiet. She hung up. It’s hard to blame her. For years we talked every day, told each other everything, and now she has to chase me to hear from me at all. Once this is over, I’ll do my best to make it up to her.
The wind picks up, and it’s a lot chillier without Reeve beside me like last time. With my jacket pulled tight around me, I lean my head back and stare at the yard. No matter how much I try to will a shadowy stalker to appear and head my way, he doesn’t.
There’s only me and the darkness.
My eyes grow heavy, and eventually, I lose my fight to keep them open. I’m jarred from a thin sleep by a metallic bang. A split second of panic seizes me before I remember where I am. Dawn threatens, outlining the lower part of the sky in pale purple. I stay frozen where I am against the tree while I scan the yard for whatever made the noise, still hoping to see Reeve.
Instead, I watch as the truck parked beside the house starts up, and the man who should be dead backs out into the road. It’s morning. He’s going to work. Berating myself for falling asleep, I creep back to the road, then start running once I get to the woods. My car waits where I left it. With no idea what else to do, I drive home.
The house has never felt so empty. My chest feels the same. Reeve left. Everything is wrong. My laptop calls to me, the only friend I seem to have left. Once I sit in front of it, the words pour out, and everything else fades away again.
Living inside the story, there’s no confusion or pain. In this place, I’m not heartbroken. Surrounded by words, I’m not alone.