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My “too close” had been a congratulations for having their second child in the middle of a grocery store. When Marcia had come around the corner, she’d seen me placing my hand on Darla’s shoulder.

Then a call had come in later that day about the patriarch of the Darling family being murdered, and that was apparently the last straw for her.

Then, years later, the shit with Jessamy Darling had started.

Her bringing a knife to school.

Her stealing drugs.

Her assaulting her brother.

Over and over, the calls would come in on Jessamy Darling, usually at the hands of her own parents or brother.

And now Leo Darling was calling to tell me his parents had died?

Goddamn the Darlings.

They were going to be my ruination.

I grabbed my cowboy hat, placed it on my head, and headed for the front door.

I was in my cruiser and making the block to their house in under five minutes.

Other deputies had beaten me to the scene, and luckily had gotten Leo out of the front yard.

He was standing next to the closest cruiser that I could park next to and staring at me with sad eyes.

My heart clenched at the look on his face.

Getting out, I grabbed my jacket and shrugged it on.

“Leo,” I said softly to the boy. “What happened?”

Leo looked at me from a painfully thin face and said, “They’re dead.”

I looked at the house where the bodies still sat upright in their chairs.

Rigor mortis had set in, forcing them to stay exactly how they’d been positioned when they’d died.

“Walk me through everything,” I urged.

He did.

“I woke up late because Mom didn’t wake me,” he croaked. “When I got dressed and downstairs, breakfast wasn’t made. So I grabbed a Pop-Tart and headed to the front door, which was standing wide open. It was freezing downstairs. I had to grab my jacket it was so cold. I started to close it when I saw my dad on the front porch in a t-shirt. I walked outside, ready to ask him what was going on, and saw them. They were blue.”

Fuck.

“What time did you go to bed last night?” I asked. “Were they awake when you went to bed?”

“The usual time. Nine thirty. Mom doesn’t let me stay up past then. She says it’s good for me to get lots of sleep.” He swallowed. “They were both downstairs. Talking about Jessamy.”

Of course they were.

Son of a bitch.

“Did you hear anything about what they were saying?” I asked.

Because at this point, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that she’d come and done the deed herself.