Home Before Dark (Christian Romantic Suspense) (Carolina Moon Book 1)

by Christy Barritt

  The sound was so simple and crisp. It felt so good to have the instrument in her hands without the pressure brought on by a nose-diving career. She hummed lightly, a melody coming to mind. “Home Before Dark,” a song written based on her father’s advice. So many of her songs were about the lessons her father had taught her.

  I’ll figure out who did this to you, Dad.

  Playing out here by the river felt more therapeutic than anything else she’d done in recent months. Yes, she loved playing the guitar. She couldn’t argue that. What she didn’t like was the pressure placed on her by the music industry.

  How had such a simple dream of making a life as a musician turned into such a hectic schedule full of pressures and expectations? How had such a pure joy turned into a complex nightmare?

  She wanted to go back to her roots, where she started in music, back before the image consultants and the A&R reps came into her life. Before Vince had dictated what was right and wrong. Before she forgot who she was.

  Maybe coming to Hertford was just what she needed to get her priorities straight. Maybe she wasn’t only supposed to figure out what happened to her father. Maybe she was supposed to make peace with herself as well.

  She closed her eyes, listening to everything around her and trying to calm her spirit. A car drove past. Water lapped against the pier. A bird tweeted.

  Like a juvenile, she foolishly hoped to hear Ryan’s footsteps. But why would he stop by tonight? They had no plans. He probably thought that she’d been leading him on. It was better this way, she rationalized. She’d be leaving soon.

  Why did her heart feel heavy at the thought?

  As evening fell, she watched as a boat trolled past. Darkness concealed the driver’s face. The watercraft disappeared behind a cluster of trees not far from her cottage. The hum of the engine became silent.

  Daleigh rose. What was going on over there?

  She took a step in the direction of the boat. The wind whipped around her, and the trees reminded Daleigh of skeletons as their branches scratched together.

  At the edge of the trees, she stopped. She should get someone to go with her. She couldn’t be stupid.

  Just as she took a step away, a motor cranked and the boat sped off. Daleigh remembered her father’s untimely death and decided the safest place for her to be was locked inside her cottage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, Daleigh stared at a notebook on her lap. She’d jotted down her father’s schedule during his last days. What had happened to put him in danger? A game of chicken foot? She doubted it. Church? Not likely. The Lunch Box? Maybe. Something at the college? It was a possibility.

  Somewhere on these blank slots, an answer waited.

  She sat cross-legged on the couch and rubbed the wrinkles out of the paper. “Come on, Dad. What am I supposed to see here? What am I missing?”

  The town seemed safe enough. What was it the police chief said? In the past several months there had been a DUI and some petty larceny? Hardly motives for murder. What kind of secrets did this small town harbor? And how was her dad involved?

  Behind her, sunlight streamed in through the tall white-trimmed windows. The day had been so nice that she put her windows up and let the spring breeze wash over the wooden floors and billow the sheer white curtains. It swept past her and tickled her hair against her cheek, gently tugging on the corner of the paper in her hands.

  She’d been staring at the paper all morning. A clock on the fireplace read 10:30. She grabbed her purse, looking for the journal entries she’d stuffed here. Her hand brushed against something at the bottom. She pulled out a rumpled letter. When she saw the handwriting, tears filled her eyes.

  Her dad.

  She’d nearly forgotten about this letter. He’d sent it to her a couple of weeks ago. She’d had a trip home scheduled but had canceled at the last minute. Guilt still pounded at her when she thought of it. Her dad had never been one to e-mail, but he loved writing letters. Daleigh had a whole stack of them at home. She kept them in a box by her bed.

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and achy, as she pulled the letter out. Her dad wrote about how he wished Daleigh had been able to make it to Hertford, but that he understood. Then he talked about fishing on the pier by the house, about looking at a ’65 Mustang that could be fun to fix up. He wrote about having dinner with Hannah and how quickly his granddaughters were growing.

  At the end, below his name, he’d jotted a Scripture. Psalm 55:12–14. She’d never bothered to look it up before.

  Out of curiosity, she found her Bible and flipped it open to Psalms. She read the verses: “If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were rising against me, I could hide. But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship.”

  Interesting. She wondered if her father had accidentally transposed the numbers. What an odd Scripture to jot down.

  She brought the letter to her chest and held it there. She was going to miss these letters from her dad, always sent to her at unexpected times.

  After a few minutes of silence, she stood, stretching her cramped legs, and went into the kitchen. Maybe some food would help jumpstart her brain and give her some more ideas. She opened the cabinets and found random cans of green beans, carrots, and corn, a jar of processed meat, and some lumpy flour. She would go to the little market down the street and grab a few groceries, enough to last her until the end of the week.

  The end of the week . . . would she leave then? If so, where would she go? Did she still have a future in music after the things she’d said to Vince? The thought of her career being over didn’t bring the panic she thought it might. Somehow, she’d figure things out. Even if she had to live on noodles and water while relying on tips she made singing at small, little-known venues.

  After tugging on some jeans and a T-shirt, she grabbed her wallet and stepped out into the warm, balmy day. She tucked a hair behind her ear and jogged across the street. Hertford waited for her with that grin-shaped main street. Or was it a frown? Beneath the polished, cheerful exterior of the town, did something rotten lie?

  She pulled her hoodie closer around her neck and continued walking. In the distance, she saw a black truck pull away. Was that the same truck she’d seen yesterday from the diner? The one with the man inside who’d stared at her? She shrugged off the thoughts as the truck disappeared around the corner.

  Finally, the general mart came into view to her left. She slipped inside through the glass doors and stared at the well-stocked shelves. After grabbing a basket, she filled it with bread, lunchmeat, juice, and crackers.

  The bell above the door jangled, and she saw Ryan step inside. He threw a smile at the gray-haired woman behind the counter.

  “How are you doing today, Ms. Faye?” he asked, his boyish charm making Daleigh’s heart work overtime.

  “Doing just fine today, Ryan,” she said, her voice scratchy with age. Her wrinkled face lit up at his attention. “How about you? Work keeping you busy?”

  “Always.”

  “You know, my niece has been asking about you. I been thinkin’ about trying to set the two of you up next time she’s in town. Whadya think?”

  Daleigh held her breath, waiting for his response. She knew she shouldn’t stay behind the cereal aisle where Ryan couldn’t see her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to move.

  “I told her you’re mighty fine looking.”

  “Now, Ms. Faye, you have to stop telling those lies.”

  “Hogwash. You know you’re cute so don’t act modest. Now, have I told you how pretty Amy is?”

  “If she looks like you, she’s a knockout.”

  Daleigh smiled as Ms. Faye blushed and waved Ryan off.

  “Oh, stop it. You always know just what to say to make my day. Did I tell you she wants to move to Hertford? I know how much you love this town. I think you and her could be awfully happy here.”

  “I do love Hertfor
d.”

  “You ever going to move?”

  “Don’t plan on it. My family has lived here for generations. Why ruin a perfectly good tradition?”

  Faye grinned. “That’s my boy. Now, I made a ham and cheese sandwich with you in mind. You interested?”

  Daleigh stepped out from the aisle. Ryan’s smile disappeared.

  “Daleigh.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I thought for sure you’d be on your way back to Nashville by now.”

  “No, I’m not quite ready to go back yet.”

  His gaze wandered to her basket. “Stocking up on some food, I see.”

  “I thought I might try my hand at cooking. I won’t tell you what happened last time I got this urge, though. Let’s just say it’s a good thing I like my food blackened.”

  That got a small grin out of him. But still he acted aloof, like their time together hadn’t happened. The realization caused disappointment to surge through her. Was this because of Vince?

  “Well, I need to get back to work. It’s been great seeing you, Faye, Daleigh.” He grabbed the sandwich, plopped a few bills on the counter, and retreated.

  Daleigh stared after him, wishing their conversation had gone differently. What had gone so wrong between them? Or had she misread things all along?

  “I might as well call my niece and tell her to mark Ryan off the list,” Faye mumbled over the squeal of the receipt as it printed.

  Daleigh set her basket on the scratched wooden counter, still reeling from Ryan’s strange behavior. “Why’s that?”

  “Because the boy obviously has it bad for you.”

  Hope simmered inside. “You think?”

  Faye snorted. “Of course, who doesn’t? You are famous. I’m sure you have a lot of admirers.”

  Daleigh did have her fair share. Some were innocent while others were downright creepy. Once a man she’d never met had sent Daleigh his grandmother’s engagement ring and asked her to marry him. Then there was the Thin Man. Being famous wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Yet some people would sell their very souls for it.

  Is that what Daleigh had done? Did she sell her soul to the devil? And was the devil’s name Vince Torres?

  “Ryan is a good boy. I don’t want to see him hurt,” Faye said. Daleigh heard the warning in the old woman’s voice. The town was protective of their own. Part of Daleigh envied the very notion of an entire town watching out for someone. For that matter, she envied the notion of anyone watching out for someone.

  Was the woman implying that Daleigh would hurt Ryan? She would never hurt Ryan. Or would she? Was he just a rebound from her relationship with Vince?

  She paid for her groceries and walked back to the cottage. Her sister’s car was gone as she walked up the sidewalk. Where was Hannah off to now? Was she avoiding Daleigh just as Daleigh was avoiding her?

  Dad, how did things become such a mess? This isn’t the life you would have wanted for me or Hannah. This isn’t what Mom would have wanted. But I have no idea how to make things right.

  She could apologize to Hannah, but she doubted anything in their relationship would change if she did. Daleigh couldn’t live with Hannah putting her down and telling her what to do for the rest of her life. But there didn’t seem to be any reasoning with her sister. So what was the solution?

  ***

  Ryan abandoned his half-eaten sandwich, took a long sip of his soda, and leaned back in the swivel chair behind the huge metal monstrosity he called a desk. He couldn’t get Daleigh’s picture out of his mind. His throat burned as he remembered seeing her at Quick Mart. He hadn’t expected her to be there. He’d expected her to be on her way home. With Vince.

  When he’d seen her, he’d wanted nothing more than to hug her and ask her how she was doing. He knew he couldn’t, though. She had a boyfriend, and Ryan couldn’t continue to pretend otherwise. He couldn’t pretend like he had a chance with her, though there had been those fleeting moments when she looked at him and he thought there really was something there, when something in her gaze told him—

  “You’ve got it bad for her, don’t ya?” Frank leaned in the doorway to his office and flashed his crooked, snaggletoothed grin.

  Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Haven’t we been over this?”

  “Every time she comes around, you get that look. The same look I get when I get to go drag racin’ down at the track.”

  Ryan stood, knowing he needed to get back to work. He pushed by Frank and walked into the garage. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Frank started to follow, but Ryan held out a hand. “You’ve got to go pick up that car down the street, remember?”

  “You’re trying to get rid of me ’cause you know I’m right.”

  “Frank, she’s dating a record producer. She’s off limits.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  Ryan put his hand on his hip. “What? You’ve talked to her? You know this?”

  “She looks at you the same way you look at her.”

  Ryan’s heart involuntarily lifted. No, he told himself. He had to accept the facts for what they were. She was someone else’s girl.

  “Go pick up the car. Now,” Ryan stated.

  Frank raised an eyebrow and retreated. Ryan could hardly concentrate on the air-conditioning on the Chevy he tried to fix. His thoughts kept drifting back to Daleigh. To her expression when she spotted Vince. How her cheeks flushed. How she forgot about Ryan like a homeless person given a mansion.

  His life would have been easier if she hadn’t come around. He would have come to work each day and spent time with Trevor and Willa in the evenings. On weekends, he would go out with his friends from church or fix up his house or take his boat out.

  Life was simple then. Before Daleigh McDermott came along. That’s what he was determined it would return to, no matter how hard it appeared.

  Any day now, Ryan felt certain that Daleigh would be packing up and going back to Nashville. He gave her five days max before she hit the road. He could avoid her for five more days. No sweat.

  ***

  After lunch, Daleigh had walked to the pharmacy, desperate to get out of the house. As soon as she stepped inside, she noted a change in the air. People were whispering and shaking their heads.

  What was going on?

  She pushed through what seemed to be unusual crowds inside and found Henry in the back talking to a large man wearing an expensive suit. As soon as Daleigh approached, the man nodded toward her and then strode away. Daleigh soaked in Henry’s heavy gaze, her gut clenching even tighter.

  He shook his head and frowned. “Daleigh. Did you hear the news?”

  Her hand went to a shelf so she could keep her balance in case the news was as bad as she thought it would be. “What’s that?”

  “Fanny died last night.”

  “Fanny Pasture? No. I just talked to her.”

  He nodded, grimness in each action. “It’s like losing a figurehead around here. She’s been a staple around this town.”

  “What happened?”

  “Rumor has it that she had a heart attack.”

  Daleigh swallowed the information. Did she really have a heart attack? Or was there something much more sinister going on?

  There was only one way to find out.

  She was going to Fanny’s house.

  She told Henry goodbye before jogging down the street and hopping into her car. She remembered how to get to the woman’s house and tried to keep her speed steady, despite the adrenaline that made her want to go faster.

  She turned away from the town and headed through the rural area, surrounded by cotton fields on either side. She gripped the steering wheel as she maneuvered the winding, country road.

  Was Fanny’s death really from natural causes? Or what if she’d given away something to Daleigh when they spoke? What if the woman really had known something? Would someone have killed her to keep her quiet? Did this have anything to do with the river?

  She rounded a bend in the road, her tho
ughts heavy, when she spotted the same one-lane bridge ahead. The structure had caused her entire body to tense when she drove out this way last time.

  She pressed on the brakes to slow down, but nothing happened. Her heart sped along with the car.

  What was going on? She pressed harder, more frequently, over and over. Still, nothing happened. The car continued to accelerate toward the bridge.

  Panic raced through her.

  She’d be fine as long as another car didn’t—

  Just then, she spotted the truck coming toward her, about to cross the bridge.

  She had to think and quick. What had her father told her to do in situations like these? The emergency brake. She grabbed it, pulled it.

  The car barely slowed.

  Sweat sprinkled across her forehead. She was going to hit the truck head on.

  Oh God, help me.

  She swerved to the right, off the road, and away from the bridge.

  Toward the water. A branch of the ominous river that Fanny had talked about.

  She braced herself for whatever happened next.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ryan looked up from some paperwork as a tow truck pulled a car into the bay. He blinked when he saw the vehicle. It looked an awful lot like . . . Daleigh’s?

  His chair scraped across the floor as he stood and walked in autopilot toward the vehicle. His heart raced as a million thoughts crashed in his head. Was this Daleigh’s? Was she okay? What had happened?

  Just then, the door to the tow truck opened, and Daleigh emerged. All of his resolve to keep his distance disappeared. He stepped toward her—closer than he should have—and soaked her in.

  Gauze and medical tape on her forehead, an ace bandage around her elbow. Dirt smudged her cheek and her hair looked tousled.

  He grasped her arms. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little accident.” Her voice cracked as she said the words.

  Her entire body trembled under his hands, sending off alarms in his head. “You should go to the hospital.”