Beneath the headline is an image of Darcy.
Restraining order handed to Helena Darcy, the veterinarian who terrorized her victim for thirteen months and broke into his home.
Yanking the article off the wall, I read the whole thing, wondering who the fuck it is we actually hired.
I remember the day she turned up here. She looked desperate, and her experience was inarguable. What did it matter that she didn’t have the paperwork? Those things could be sorted later. Now that I think about it, we never did follow up. I pushed my brother to hire her and then we just… left her to it.
Fuck.
Helena Darcy, 32, has been charged with stalking her ex-boyfriend and handed a restraining order. The vet is alleged to have called her victim 257 times in one day and sent messages across various platforms at least 138 times in a 2 day period. It is also allegedthat she broke into her victim’s home and threatened him and his new girlfriend while they lay in bed.
This is said to have been going on for thirteen months following the breakdown of the relationship between Ms. Darcy and her former partner. In his victim impact statement, Ms. Darcy’s ex-boyfriend said he feared for his and his new partner’s lives on numerous occasions, but especially when Darcy broke into the apartment he shared with his partner and took out a knife from the kitchen. She eventually left without causing any injury, but it comes after a long list of other instances where Ms. Darcy threatened and abused her former partner.
Who the fuck did I let onto my ranch!? I look at the photographs on the wall. There are several images of a man and a woman I don’t recognize, which I assume is the ex-partner. Mixed in with them are photos of Darcy and him, looking happy, smiling at the camera. In one there’s an engagement ring, in another a wedding dress hanging on the back of a door.
I trace each image, but my heart stops dead in my chest when I see the next one.
Me on my porch, my ex-wife next to me with a young Caleb sitting on the step, and Rosie in her mother’s arms. It’s taken from afar, and at the edges of the images are what look like branches, as if the image was shot through a bush. But it doesn’t stop there. More and more images of me show up. Me and my ex. Me and the horses. Me and the kids. There are photos of my ex, incriminating images ofher with the various men she had affairs with, more of me with my brother’s. Some of them on their own, Remy in his cabin, Roman in his office.
She’s been watching all of us, but especially me.
There are hundreds of pictures of me.
As I make it to the end of the wall, I start to see Juni in the photos. Us in the house and in the stables. Us in the back of the truck the night we watched the meteorite shower. Us in the tack room…
It was Darcy all along.
“Silas,” Roman says my name from the doorway.
I turn to see him holding an oversized jacket and pants, similar to what Juni had described.
“It was her,” I growl. “It’s been Darcy the whole time.”
“Holy shit.”
“Roman,” I swallow, dread and fear sinking into my gut, “She’s taken her. She has Juni.”
“We’ll find her,” Roman doesn’t hesitate. He spins on his heel and heads out of the room. “I’ll call Niamh, ask her to check with Ashley at the bar to see if she’s seen anything.”
I start rummaging through the piles of paperwork inside this room. Bills, notices, files on the animals and more images of me. There’s nothing here that gives away where Darcy could have taken Juni.
How the fuck did I miss this?
She never showed any signs; sure, there were lingering stares, but nothing that suggested she was capable of this.
“Fuck,” I growl. I have to find Juni before Darcy does something to hurt her.
“Niamh says Ashley saw Darcy’s truck speeding through town,” Roman rushes back in, “heading east.”
“Toward the lakes?” I pause. “What’s out there?”
Roman shrugs, “It’s a tourist hotspot; it’ll be rammed this time of year.”
I go quiet and think. I’ve been out there only a few times; it’s a watersports hotspot, but there are several campgrounds in the woods that surround the lakes. Past the lakes, there isn’t much of anything for miles, a couple of gas stations along the route, maybe.
“I need my laptop,” I snap, pushing past my brother and into the kitchen where I rummage through the drawers, looking for as much information on Darcy—HelenaDarcy. The more I have, the more results I’ll get. I find a passport, expired, but it’s enough.
“I’ll drive,” Roman knows exactly what I plan to do and makes a stop at the house so I can grab the equipment Ineed, along with my weapon.
