Darlene stared at her closed blinds, knowing full well that Myrtle Crawford’s gaze hadn’t strayed from her window. A part of her felt she should talk to her neighbor, but what could she say, really? I know you served fourteen years for killing your cheating husband with a baseball bat? Since you killed my husband, I’m afraid you might be a serial killer?
She couldn’t ignore that Myrtle saved her life, though. Darlene knew in her heart that Scott would’ve killed her. She shivered when she recalled the coldness of the eyes showing through the holes of the dark ski mask that night. Her blood chilled when she remembered how she almost died in that cabin fire two months ago. The police hadn’t said, but Darlene suspected that was Scott, too. But why? She had to know something she didn’t even realize she knew.
A car door interrupted Darlene’s thoughts. She heard another slam, followed by the clack of deliberate footsteps on concrete. She peeked through the blinds. The black Lincoln again; this time in front of Myrtle’s house. Mulroney and Haversill strode up Myrtle’s walk. Puzzled, she ran to the front door.
The FBI agents stopped and turned to her.
“Did you figure out that note?” Darlene asked, running barefoot toward them.
Mulroney shrugged. “We aren’t at liberty to discuss with you.”
“Why are you at Mrs. Crawford’s house?”
“That doesn’t concern you either,” Haversill said.
The agents continued up Myrtle’s walk and Darlene stood in Myrtle’s lawn unable to move.
Myrtle opened the door. “Hi, boys,” she said with a faint smile.
“Mrs. Crawford, you are under arrest for the murder of Scott Whitman. We’d also like to question you about the disappearance of Andrew Moritz,” Mulroney said.
“Myrtle didn’t do anything to my father!”
Darlene’s words dissipated without acknowledgement. Haversill held Myrtle’s handcuffed wrists.
Myrtle looked at Darlene. “Please feed my cats.” She emphasized the word feed and her eyes implied deeper meaning.
Darlene had no idea.
DELIBERATE: slow, unhurried, and steady as though allowing time for decision on each individual action involved <a deliberate pace>
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I’m back to Darlene’s point of view in this continuation of Darlene’s Story. Click here for Darlene’s Story page if you want to read the entire piece. Thanks for stopping by!