The Dark Places R. Whitfield (read aloud books TXT) 📖

“It’s not the town that’s the problem, on the contrary actually. People tend to fall in love with it.” She glanced at him. “It’s me, I’m not that girl any more, so coming back is, well, it’s just plain weird.”

Parker saw the approaching neon lights of a service station. “Can we pull in here?” he asked.

“Sure,” she replied, changed lanes quickly and came to a stop in front of the entrance.

“I need a drink, and I thought I might grab a town map if they have one.”

Surin shook her head. “I’m your town map, Rhodes,” she said.

“Well, you may want to catch up with your folks alone, so with my new map I can go and see the sights.” She shrugged. “Need anything?” he asked. She shook her head, and he closed the door and walked inside.

Surin watched him from the driver’s seat of the car. There was such ease in his stride, a confidence that was neither cocky nor intentional. She rolled her eyes at what her mother would say and smiled because she would probably be right. Something about this trip, this case, something was making her feel on edge — a sensation of impending doom — she instantly tried to shake off the feeling. Parker was on his way back to the car with a stupid grin on his face.

“What?” she asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Seriously,” he said, “there is a lighthouse called Turkey Point.”

Surin laughed. “You’re damn right there is!” she replied dramatically. “It’s actually a historic landmark, and one we North Easters are very, very proud of.”

Parker laughed as they pulled out of the gas station and continued the last five miles towards the town.

“Honestly,” he added, “I can’t wait to see what this place is made of.”

Surin looked at him and shook her head. “I’m sure!” she replied. “Don’t worry, Rhodes. It won’t take very long.”

Surin pulled up in front of a large, charming, white-and-blue colonial home. The front windows were flanked with shutters, and the lawn was a crisp mint-green and obviously well maintained.

“This is home,” she muttered and turned off the engine. They sat in silence for a few minutes before the front door flew open.

“Surin!” yelled a well-dressed, happy-looking lady of about sixty.

“Oh God, here we go,” Surin replied, and slowly opened the car door and got out. “Hi, Ma,” she said with a smile, as she was enveloped in a suffocating hug.

“You look so tired, baby?” her mother said, immediately holding her out at arm’s length and eyeing her lean frame. “Are you eating?” she added.

Surin rolled her eyes. “Ma, I’m fine.” Parker was watching with a grin from the other side of the car. “Ma, this is my partner, Parker Rhodes.”

Parker walked around the car quickly and took her hand in a gentle shake.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs Elliott,” he said, with an easy smile.

“Oh, please,” she replied, blushing, and placed her other hand over her heart dramatically, “call me Erin.”

Parker grinned and patted her hand. “Erin then.”

Surin tapped her mother’s shoulder. “OK, Mum, let him go,” she said teasingly and was rewarded with a loud laugh.

“Surin, you never told me he was such a good-looking and polite young man,” her mother replied.

Parker grinned. “What exactly has she told you then?” he said playfully, watching as Surin’s face flushed a gorgeous shade of pink.

“Well, obviously not nearly enough,” Erin joked as she jabbed Surin gently in the ribs. “Now come on inside, your dad is watching the game.”

“Great,” Surin said and reached through the car window, grabbed her tote and slipped it over her shoulder. “Who’s winning?”

Erin wrapped her arm around Surin’s waist as they walked towards the open front door. “Not us,” she replied with a smile.

The interior of the house was white and bright with a homey country ambience. Parker placed his small suitcase down in the entranceway and immediately walked towards the large family portrait that was mounted on the wall above a chocolate-coloured buffet.

Four faces stared back at him. Erin, in her early forties, an attractive brunette with a smile that made it all the way to her sparkling blue eyes; Michael in his uniform blues, strong and manly with a genuine look of happiness etched into his hard features. The boy must have been Mason, the eldest. Parker estimated that he would have been around twenty in the picture, a spitting image of his father; solid and handsome with a smile that would have broken hearts, but the image he could not tear his eyes away from was that of seventeen-year-old Surin Elliott.

She was standing in front of her mum and dad, their hands resting protectively on her narrow shoulders. She wore a pair of white pants that were short and tight, a green top that sported the local school’s football logo and barely covered her midriff, add in the little white lace-up sneakers, and she was the very picture of an all-American cheerleader. Her hair was out — thick, long and shiny, but it was her face that had him captivated. Her head was tilted back just slightly; her glossy red lips parted in a genuine laugh. He had never seen her look so happy, relaxed, and at ease with herself. It was as if he was looking at a completely different person.

“You’ve been here five minutes and have already managed to find a picture of me in a midriff.”

He turned to Surin with a smile. “Nice legs.”

“Thanks,” she answered.

“I was talking about your mum,” he replied and laughed when she slapped him across the shoulders.

“Come and meet my dad,” she said. “You might not get much out of him though, not when a ball game’s on.” Parker followed her into the lounge room where Michael Elliott sat forward on a La-Z-Boy,