A Shot in the Dark
an excerpt

1.

The first time Darcy Peterson found the door, she was six. In appearance, it was a door like any other on Main Street in the sleepy town of Willow Bend, Iowa. The street stretched for seven blocks on either side, beginning with a looming, brick town hall to the East and ending with a handsome bank to the West. In-between were stores containing just about anything that anyone could possibly need. There was a barber shop manned six hours a day by a tubby but cheerful Mr. Potts. There was a general store, recently under new management, a friendly woman Ms. Gardener. There was even a moderately seedy bar Darcy was definitely not allowed into.

This door, however, led to nothing so ordinary. This door led to the one and only- so by virtue the best- toy store in town. Darcy’s brother David stood on the street corner amidst a group of boys. She recognized a few as his friends from school, but there must have been at least a dozen of them and a few looked like they might even be in middle school already.

David stood out to her in the group, with his dark hair and brooding looks. Apart from their height difference, Darcy and David could easily have been mistaken for fraternal twins. They both had their mother’s eyes and their father’s chin. Their ears stuck out slightly, just like their grand mother’s did only their grandmother could wiggle her ears quite well when called to do so. Darcy’s nose was slightly more pointed and David’s eyebrows were just a bit thicker. Otherwise, they were both gifted with tall, wiry frames, long eyelashes, and high cheekbones.

However, their appearances were where their similarities ended. Though three years younger than her brother, Darcy was the more responsible and trustworthy of the two. They had been entrusted to each other for the afternoon while their parents finished their secretive Christmas shopping. Though their mother had suggested they go to the bookstore or stop by the cafe for hot chocolates, all David had wanted to do was stand on the street corner in the cold with his friends.

In all the commotion and exciting talk of dirt bikes and tractors, Darcy had been able to give David the slip. Wearing a puffy red jacket with the fake-fur-lined hood up over her head, a black skirt, and white tights, she preferred to skip down the block to keep moving and keep warm.

However, the pull of the toy store was far too strong to resist. The door, like the display windows on either side, was clear glass from sidewalk to roof, giving her a spectacular view of the wonders within. Though she knew her parents could never afford to give her more than just a toy or two for Christmas, Darcy hoped that Santa Claus would bring her just about everything in sight. There were sparkling tiaras in girls’ dress-up kits. There were gigantic plush stuffed animals just about as big as she was, if not bigger. And there was a kid-sized replica of a kitchen with what looked like an oven that really baked treats. There were dolls as far as the eye could see down one row inside and hundreds of outfits besides. Another row of shelves held puzzles, games, and building blocks enough to make anything she could dream up. There was even a row just for sports with everything from soccer balls that had never been kicked to bicycles that had never been ridden. Best of all, right in the middle, just beyond the door, was a giant replica of a carousel horse. More than anything else, she wanted to go into the toy store just to touch the white cheek with reigns painted on and stroke the carved, black mane accentuated with flowers. It looked strong and fierce but also gentle and obedient, partially due to the large, striped pole jetting out of its back. She wanted to know what it felt like to ride on its back and imagine the wind rushing through her hair. She wanted to know what it would feel like to stroke its head in a pet or pat its haunches as though it were a real horse. She wanted it to be hers, because she knew that if she got close enough, she could bring it to life.

Darcy could imagine exactly how it would go. It would spring to life and immediately nuzzle its face into her chest with affection and gratitude for setting it free. It would whinnie and, like magic, she would find a sugar cube in her pocket for him. As he ate it off her open palm, he would stamp restlessly at the ground. However, he would wait until she climbed up onto him before taking off. Though she wore a white blouse with floral trim and a grey skirt that came to her knees, both sitting upon him without a saddle and straddling him would feel comfortable. He would break free, picking up the black hoofed feet that has seemed permanently stuck to the floor, and bursting through the open doorway. She would lean forward, burying her pale face in his mane, which would now be real, black hairs, naturally. She would inhale the scent of the flowers and let her own brown hair trail behind her as she rode him through the streets and right to the forest. They would continue on together.

In the year since her family had moved to Willow Bend, Darcy had been allowed to visit the store many times but she had never been allowed to go near the horse before. This was due to the sign posted near it that her parents claimed read FOR DISPLAY ONLY. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH. However, she had never been in the store without her parents at her side, either, and she had the strangest idea in her mind that if she could sneak in along, just this one time, she might be able to get close enough to brush her fingers against the wood for a brief instant. That would be enough. And, if it wasn’t, she could always try a kiss. That was how it worked in the fairy tales, after all.

She stood in front of the door, rocking back and forth in her black Mary Janes, teetering on the edge of a decision. David would kill her if he discovered she’d given him the slip just to do something she knew she wasn’t supposed to be doing in the first place. But she was fast on her feet so it was entirely possible that she might dash inside the store and back out again with the deed accomplished before her brother was any the wiser.

With her lower lip firmly bitten between her top and bottom teeth, Darcy raised herself up on her tip-toes. She reached her arms up as far as they would go, fingertips striking the freezing cold metal crossbar below the sign that she knew read PUSH. She leaned forward, providing much-needed leverage, and the door budged. It only gave a little, but enough for her to put all her weight against the glass and force it open so she could slip through.

As both feet touched the shiny tile floor inside, a strange tingling raced through her body, beginning with her toes and ending at what seemed like the tips of her hair. A blinding, bright light and intense, sharp hiss overpowered her senses for the briefest of moments. Thinking that the problem must be the bright overhead lighting in the display cases, she tried to close her eyes, but suddenly felt unable to do so. In fact, she wanted to stop walking, as well, but realized her feet were taking her forward whether she wanted to go or not.

Shapes came into focus all around her through the light, but it was still a few seconds before Darcy registered the fact that this was by no means a toy store. Even if she were to squint, which she found herself unable to do, as well, there was no way she could have even pretended that the large brown office desks surrounding her were toy chests and there was no way to see the computers as huggable stuffed animals. Here the room was divided up in cubicles, like at her dad’s office, and gone were the isles of playthings. And right where the beautiful, tempting, magical white horse had stood waiting for her was now a man in a formal, gray business suit with a bright blue tie.

More than anything, Darcy wanted to flee. A wave of panic rose up from her chest but even when she wanted to bit her lip to hold back her nerves, she discovered she could not will her mouth to move as such. Instead, it defied her entirely by turning upwards into a pleasant, relaxed smile. Moreover, she continued to walk forward, when she really wanted to go backwards. It was as though she were merely an observer, along for the ride, with absolutely no control over her actions. In a strange way, she understood that she wasn’t riding along in someone else’s body… she was still Darcy, but not the six-year-old Darcy she had just been.

Her feet seemed to be taking her in the direction of the man in the suit. There were other people around, mostly sitting at desks and talking on phones, but he was the one who had truly caught her eye, and that was no surprise. He looked dashing, like the princes portrayed in her storybooks, with hair as dark as hers and a square jaw. He sported dimples in both cheeks and soft brown eyes. He was smiling, as well, and Darcy couldn’t remember if he’d been smiling when she first set eyes on him or whether it was a new development, perhaps brought on entirely because of her approach. What sick, demented game was he playing here? Why was he so happy when she was clearly terrified? Why was he holding his arms out in a wide, friendly gesture? And, most importantly, why was she going straight for him?

‘No!’ she shouted to herself, issuing the command in vain. Her lips were already forming other words, and she recognized her voice, though it seemed slightly lower than what she was used to hearing. “You saw the poll results?”

He nodded and, a moment later, their bodies collided. The man’s arms wrapped securely around her and lifted her feet off the ground. Darcy then finally closed her eyes, but she still spun. He was laughing and spinning in place with her, hugging her as tightly as she had ever been hugged. “With you at my side, I can’t possibly lose.”

The man set her down and then, without any warning whatsoever, he tilted his head to the right and kissed her. After reading so many fairy tales, Darcy had a very good idea about what she wanted her first kiss to be like. She wanted romance and abandoned beaches or fireworks overhead- both, if that could be arranged. She wanted the other person to be someone special, for whom she felt so much emotion that it could not be expressed in words or contained within her. She wanted the kiss to be both exciting and tender all at once. And of all the things she wanted it to be, most importantly, she at least wanted it to be someone whose name she knew.

But here he was, kissing her, and she was actually kissing him back. ‘What are you doing? Please, please stop!’ Her voice screamed with protest in her head, but her body simply would not listen. On the contrary, her body seemed more than pleased with the situation, rising a bit to meet him, her front squishing and pressing against his body. ‘Eww!’ Darcy commented, feeling all too clearly the wetness and the breath from his nose against her face. Yet, her body continued, kissing back, and all Darcy could do was wait and hope it all ended sooner rather than later.

Finally, the two people separated, and Darcy felt a rush of relief that it was over. They stayed close, however, with the man’s strong arms still around her body. “I’d better go get some champagne to celebrate with,” Darcy heard herself say with what seemed like playfulness in her voice.

The man held her even tighter and, to Darcy’s surprise, nuzzled close. “You don’t have to leave just yet, do you?” Darcy noticed a strong scent of spices that she had only faintly registered before. She noticed her body loosening, relaxing, and practically tingling. ‘Yes! I need to leave now!’ she tried again, but with far less force and absolutely no expectation that she would be listed to.

“I really should go. I have that meeting across town at two,” she told the man.

He nuzzled into her hair now. His nose brushed her ear and his lips pressed and then paused against her neck with a tiny kiss that Darcy thought was actually kind of cute. Then the man pulled back. “You’ll get that speech copy to me this afternoon?”

She nodded. “The draft’s almost done. I had Robert incorporate what we talked about at the table meeting this morning, but I re-wrote the gun control portion myself.”

He looked relieved. “I trust you,” he whispered, smiling.

She kissed him again, this time going up on her tip-toes for just a quick peck on the lips. Then she turned on her heels and headed for the door.

Her head bobbed down and Darcy glimpsed her outfit with curiosity. Now that she had gotten used to the ride and didn’t have the man encroaching on her personal space, she was able to take in much more. Her shoes were still black but now they were skinny high heels. She wore a navy blue. Her hands adjusted her crisp white blouse peaking through and smoothed out any wrinkles in her skirt. Darcy noticed a stunning purple pendant hanging from her neck, just above the cleavage that was impossible to miss. She also wore a slender gold watch on her left wrist and a beautiful, understated diamond ring on the ring finger of her left hand.

Before Darcy really realized what it meant and before she could inspect it more closely, her eyes moved upward and she got her first look at herself in the reflection in the door. If Darcy had had control of her breathing, it would have caught in her throat. She stared ahead, believing for the first time that this was truly happening. The reflection was truly hers; she recognized herself instantly. They were the same eyes, it was the same hair, and the same face she’d seen all her life staring back at her in mirrors. However, she was much older- thirty, forty years, maybe? It was strange to be able to recognize herself like this, but it was also oddly comforting.

She wanted to reach out and touch her reflection, but her hand went for the doorknob and everything went white a second time.

This time, Darcy was able to close her eyes, which was fortunate since dizziness seized her and the darkness was comforting. She reached out, expecting to feel a door in front of her, with which she could steady herself. Instead, she fell forward and her hands struck cold, hard pavement.

When Darcy opened her eyes, she was staring at a sidewalk and her body formed a sort of arch with her feet firmly planted on the ground, her hands likewise, and both her arms and legs straight. Quickly she bent into a kneeling position and relieved the pressure on her palms, which, she suddenly realized, were scraped raw. When she breathed out, panicked, her breath came in a visible, white cloud.

Then it all came at her at once- the trip, the man, the kiss, the image of herself, and the pain that now shot through the fleshy parts of her hands. Darcy felt tears welling up in her eyes and she had no restraint left within her. She burst into tears and sprang to her feet. With blurry vision, she sprinted down the sidewalk, her black Mary Janes slapping the concrete.

Pushing her way through the group of boys, she found her brother and immediately wrapped her arms around his legs. She buried her face in his side, sobbing, breath hitching. “Wanna go home!” she cried, when she felt his hand on her back. “Davie, please! I want Mommy!” She was crying too much to notice the way his friends teased him about the cute nickname. And she cried too much for him to completely ignore her clinging to him.

Finally, he gave in, grabbing her by the hood and hobbling away from his friends with her. He walked down a block with her like that, until her sobs gave way to light tears. Then he guided her onto a bench. “What happened?” he asked, wiping tears from her cheeks with the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt. Her tears left dark blue spots of wet on her shirt, which made her feel even worse until he put his arm around her shoulders. But even when she felt safe and she had dry eyes, she could not answer him.

Even if she understood it, there was no way to explain it to him. He already wanted to have nothing to do with her when they came into town. She wouldn’t have even have gone today had their mother not made David take her. If he thought she was crazy or imagining things, he would never speak to her again. “I got scared,” she answered. “Can we find Mommy and Daddy now?”

He sighed in frustration, but stood up and nodded. “Yeah, all right. Let’s go.”

The first time Darcy Peterson found the door, she was six. The door didn’t find her again until she was twelve.