As Darkness Fell. Joanna Wayne

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СКАЧАТЬ packed, full of sealed plastic pouches. She opened one and pulled out the contents. Yards of teal satin spilled out. It took her a few seconds to realize it was a dress.

      Standing, she held the dress to her shoulders to get the full effect. The full skirt hit just above her ankles, hiding most of her legs, but the neckline was plunging. A gown fit for a formal party in the late 1800s—or perhaps a madam in a fancy brothel.

      The dress appeared in too good a condition to be authentic. More than likely it had been made for the annual spring pilgrimage event, when many of Prentice’s historic homes opened their doors to the public. It was traditional for the hostesses to dress in the style of the period during which the houses had been built.

      Caroline had first met Becky at one of the pilgrimages three years ago, her first year as a teacher. She’d brought a group of her students down to tour the houses and Becky had been one of the guides.

      They’d hit it off from the moment they met, more because they were so different than because they were alike. The friendship had paid off in lots of ways. Becky was the one who’d told Caroline about the Times looking for a reporter back when she’d lost her teaching job.

      Stripping off her slacks and sweater, Caroline lifted the dress and fit her head inside the opening, letting the dress slide into place. The full skirt swirled about her legs as she danced over to the antique mirror and stared at her reflection. The distortion of the wavy glass was more pronounced than usual in the grayness of the cloudy afternoon, giving the shimmering dress a luminance that seemed almost magical.

      The moment ended abruptly at the gong of the doorbell. She wasn’t expecting anyone. But then, she hadn’t been expecting a call to a murder scene last night or a note from a weirdo today, either.

      Lifting the full skirt, she hurried down the winding staircase. The doorbell rang again before she got there, this time prolonged. She stopped at the door and looked through the peephole. Sam Turner.

      And if he thought her outfit last night was a bit much, imagine how he’d react to this one. She started to yank the low-cut bosom up, then changed her mind and tugged it lower, leaving lots of exposed cleavage and little to the imagination. Might as well shock the detective all the way. Too bad she didn’t have on her stilts.

      She swung open the door and smiled up at him. “Hello, detective.”

      SAM ROCKED back on his heels, speechless. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. “Am I interrupting something?”

      “No, I’m just relaxing. Care for a mint julep on the veranda?”

      He didn’t answer, just worked to drag his gaze away from the pink mounds of flesh peeking out of her dress. Another fraction of an inch and her nipples would have been staring back at him.

      “That was a joke, Detective. There’s not a mint or a julep in the house. I was just cleaning out a closet, found the dress and tried it on.”

      “Good. I thought you might be expecting Rhett Butler.”

      “No. I hate men who don’t give a damn.” She opened the door a little wider. “Now that you’re here, I guess you should come in.”

      “Just for a minute.”

      “Were you able to get prints from the note?”

      “Only one set besides mine on the right edge.”

      “And the one set would have to be mine.”

      “It appears that way.”

      “I doubt you came all the way over here to tell me that.”

      “No. I have a proposition for you.”

      “I don’t sleep with cops.”

      “Good, since I wasn’t going to ask you to. I’d like you to take a run over to the crime scene with me.”

      “You want me to go to the park where Sally Martin was murdered?”

      “That’s right. It won’t take long.”

      She took a step backward. “I’d rather not go back there, Detective.”

      Now that surprised him. Every reporter he’d ever known would have been salivating at the possibility of visiting the scene of the crime with the lead homicide detective. “It could be important, Caroline.”

      “Why?”

      “I’d like you to show me exactly where you were at all times last night. Where you parked your car. Which areas of the park you were in, that sort of thing.”

      “I was only there a few minutes.”

      “Long enough for the killer to see you, if in fact he was the one who wrote the note. You may have seen him, too, without realizing it. If we go back there, I can get a better feel for where he may have been standing while he was watching you. It might even trigger a memory of something you’ve forgotten.”

      “I didn’t talk to anyone except cops.”

      “Look, I know this won’t be as much fun as playing dress-up, but I have a dead woman, a brutal killer on the loose and no leads. Now are we going to stand here and quibble, or are you going with me?”

      “Since you put it that way, I don’t have a lot of choice. I’ll need to change first.”

      “A good idea.” Hopefully into something that completely covered her breasts. “Make it quick. The storm’s blowing in fast.”

      She turned and hurried away, leaving him standing by the door. Her skirt swished about her ankles, making soft, crinkly sounds that seem to slide under his skin.

      What the hell was it about her that got to him like this? Or had it just been too damn long since he’d been with a woman?

      Not that it mattered. He had a killer to catch.

      A killer who had Caroline Kimberly on his mind. It was no time for Sam to be lusting after her, too.

      Chapter Three

      There was no bloody body waiting, but Caroline found the park even more ominous and cryptic than she had the night before. Dark clouds, heaving with moisture, rolled and tossed in the wind, and bolts of not-too-distant lightning were followed by rumbling claps of thunder, adding to the eerie feel.

      A group of teenagers carrying skateboards stopped to watch them as she and Sam got out of the car. Her imagination flew into overtime and she tried to picture one of them wielding the knife and cutting Sally Martin’s throat. But the innocence on their faces made them seem incapable of such brutality.

      Sam glanced their way, then appeared to dismiss them as inconsequential. “It’s going to pour soon, so let’s get started.”

      “What do you want to know?”

      “Where did you park your car last night?”

      “Down the block, near that big oak.” She pointed to a tree whose branches canopied the narrow neighborhood street.

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