by Kathy Harris
“Within this compelling suspense novel are stories of loss and redemption, romance and deception, addiction and recovery, and an underlying message of God’s grace. I loved it.”
—Edgar Struble,
producer, God Bless the Broken Road;
music director, The Academy of Country Music Awards, The
Billboard Music Awards
“In Deadly Commitment, Kathy Harris creates characters you care about and plops them down into a world of deception and danger. I was so caught up in the story I almost burned dinner.”
—Patricia Bradley,
author of the Memphis Cold Case novels
“I was captivated by the author’s imagination, the things she loved, and her ability to bring the reader into this well-layered, intriguing story. She had me look at Nashville in a new light. This novel makes for a fun read and one that would work well for your book club meeting.”
—Nora St Laurent,
The Book Club Network,
Where Book Fun Begins!
“Kathy Harris has a gifted storytelling ability and weaves together a story with the right mix of suspense, deceit, betrayal, and trauma—but leaves us with the one thing those of us who work in the recovery field all want—hope. This book is enjoyable from beginning to end.”
—Kate Tanis McKinnie,
director of development,
The NextDoor Addiction Treatment Center
“Quick paced! Heart felt! Pulse racing! Harris jars us with a haunting opening scene and then unravels a suspenseful story that touches on so many issues many of us face—choosing and losing love, drug addiction, career pressures, and longing for completeness and purpose in our lives. Let it heal and entertain you. A great beach or rainy-day read! Pick it up! Pass it along!”
—Jennifer Graeser Dornbush,
author, The Coroner’s Daughter mystery series
New Hope® Publishers
100 Missionary Ridge
Birmingham, AL 35242
NewHopePublishers.com
An imprint of Iron Stream Media
IronStreamMedia.com
© 2019 by Kathy Harris
All rights reserved. First printing 2019.
Printed in the United States of America
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters and events in the books are entirely the creation of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Iron Stream Media serves its authors as they express their views, which may not express the views of the publisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019946848
ISBN-13: 978-1-56309-304-3
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-56309-311-1
1 2 3 4 5—23 22 21 20 19
In memoriam
Larry Harris
God blessed me with you.
Brandy, Ryan, and Michael
Your stories ended far too soon. This book is for you.
Prologue
Grace . . . No!”
The words ripped Danni from her sleep. Pulling herself closer to the wall, she listened, trying not to breathe.
“Let me go!” Her mother screamed.
Danni clutched her pillow. Please, God—
“Grace . . . the girls . . .”
“Don’t touch me!” The repugnance in Grace Kemp’s voice burrowed into her six-year-old daughter’s heart. How could a mother turn against her family? Then Danni remembered. Everything had been okay until Chloe was born.
She turned her head, listening for the slow, methodic breathing of her baby sister, who slept less than ten feet away. Danni prayed the two-year-old wouldn’t wake up. If she started crying, it might bring even more trouble their way.
The conversation in the next room spiked once again, inching Danni back toward the wall. Mom will be fixed soon. Hadn’t Daddy promised? But the arguments had become more frequent. The shouting often kept her awake at night.
“Get your hands off me!” Her mother screamed. “And get out of the way!”
“Grace . . . you can’t leave—”
“Just try and stop me!”
The door in the next room slammed, and Danni startled. Leaving? Her mother was leaving? Danni had to stop her. She would tell her how much she was needed. And that she would do more. She would take care of Chloe . . . and clean her room. Please, God. My mama can’t leave!
Throwing back the covers, Danni placed one foot on the floor. Then the other. Moving too quickly might awaken the panic that would bring the darkness, and she didn’t have time for that right now. She had to get to her mom.
Danni inhaled the cool air of her bedroom, filled her lungs, and then expelled hot breath through her clenched teeth. Just as the doctor had told her. He’d also told her to think about something good—the zoo, the park, even church when they attended as a family. Just the three of them before Chloe was born. Those things could . . . No, they would . . . happen again.
She would tell her mom. She would stop her. She had to get—
Danni’s stomach started churning. No . . . not now. The room began to spin, and she reached for the edge of her bed. If she could just sit down for another minute. But it was too late. Her legs folded, and as the darkness overtook her, she fell to the floor.
CHAPTER 1
Present Day – March 15
Danni Kemp stepped from the marble lobby of her downtown Nashville condo building into the brisk March morning. Sunshine cut through the chill as she walked beyond the shadow of the monolithic concrete high rise she had called home for almost two years.
Looking up, she saw scattered clouds dotting the cerulean sky, and a sense of the coming spring invigorated her. Life could be better, and she was about to make it that way. If she had to, she would walk away.
It didn’t take long for winter to mock her resolute idealism. A gust of wind from the west shoved her toward the street ahead. Fighting to regain her balance, she danced awkwardly with her invisible partner, her arms flailing, her feet shuffling, until she was jilted at the edge of the curb.
Waiting for the crosswalk signal to turn, Danni clutched the belt of her navy Burberry raincoat, pulled it tighter to her waist, and scanned the concrete cityscape to see if anyone had been watching. A single figure, ragged and unkempt, stood staring at her from the bus stop on the far side of the street. He wore an ill-fitting gray jacket. His khaki pants looked torn and dirty. His unruly, dark hair defied style. But it was his penetrating stare that chilled her even more than the March wind.
She averted her eyes to a metro bus approaching the intersection, a Music City USA logo in the jewel tone colors of a Trivial Pursuit game emblazoned on its side. Hopefully he would board the coach, and she would never see him again.
Air brakes squealed as the massive vehicle rolled to a stop in front of her, and a toxic fog of diesel fumes wafted in her direction. Danni held her breath, willing the man on the other side to be gone. But when the bus pulled away, he hadn’t moved.
Too soon the crosswalk light flashed. She lifted her chin, looked straight ahead, and propelled herself off the sidewalk toward the opposite side of the street. Acknowledging the intruder would admit vulnerability, and Danielle Kemp would no longer give in to fear, a new commitment she had made to herself last night. She held her breath as she approached the disheveled stranger, hoping to avoid the expected and unwelcome stench of body odor. But when she held it too long and was forced to gulp a mouthful of air, only the fresh scent of the cool morning filled her nos
trils.
Curiosity won the battle over fear, and Danni turned to look at him. He met her gaze, his jaw set, his intense brown eyes piercing through the composure she had championed only a few minutes before.
She tried to smile—a faint offering she hoped wouldn’t give away her discomfort. But a hint of disgust flickered in his eyes, and he looked away.
How dare he! Repulsed by her? He didn’t even know her.
She tucked her chin and walked past, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk as the cold wind—now her friend—swept her along.
What interest did he have in her? Would he choose to follow?
Danni listened for footsteps behind her, but only the soft rustling of the silk scarf around her neck filled her ears. She quickened her pace, and two blocks ahead she took a right on Second Avenue.
Glancing over her shoulder and seeing no one, her anxiety eased. Until she realized that he might have taken another route. He could be waiting for her at the next cross street. As a precaution, she hurried across Second. At the next street, she scanned to the left with her peripheral vision.
It was him! Or was it?
She turned her head and stared. The clothes and hair were similar, but this man carried a guitar.
Danni hurried down the sidewalk, which had transitioned from pavement to brick, making it more difficult to navigate with high heels. She slowed her pace and a few minutes later turned the corner into the alleyway running beside Amoré, the Italian restaurant she managed.
She took a final glance over her shoulder.
No one.
Relieved but still shaken she dashed inside the rear service door and came face to face with Amoré’s executive chef, Jaycee Alexander.
“Whoa, Danielle.” Jaycee sidestepped to avoid a collision. “Did you see a ghost?”
“Why?” She breathed.
“You’re pale as one.”
“There was a strange man outside my condo. It felt like he was waiting for me.” Danni loosened the belt of her coat. “Silly, huh?”
“No. It’s scary.” Jaycee scowled.
Danni shrugged. “I’m sure it was just my imagination, but the way he looked at me gave me the creeps.”
“I know you enjoy the walk, girlfriend.” Jaycee wagged her finger in Danni’s face. “But I wish you would drive your car to work.”
“Please, no lectures this morning.” Danni dismissed her friend with a wave and then swiveled toward the dining room, almost knocking over a pastry chef when she turned.
The young man swayed, trying not to spill the tray of desserts he carried.
“Sorry!” Danni reached to steady him.
“You’re fine, Ms. Kemp.” He maneuvered past her and hurried away.
“It could have been worse.” She tossed the remark to Jaycee as she headed toward her office, just beyond the kitchen.
“Yes, it could have been.” Jaycee’s words echoed behind her.
When Danni stopped in front of the door marked General Manager to search her handbag for keys, Jaycee stepped beside her.
“Just say an extra prayer for me, Jay. I’ll be fine.” Danni knew her friend hated it when she mocked her religious zeal.
But the chef returned the joust before turning to walk away. “I pray for you every day. But don’t come running to me when your guardian angel resigns.”
Danni smiled, snagged her keys, and unlocked the door. She loved working with Jaycee. Not only did she enjoy her company, but together they ran one of the most successful restaurants in Nashville.
Jaycee had endless energy and a reputation as one of the best chefs in the city. But more importantly, she was a good friend. Danni spent more time with her than she did with her boyfriend Rob.
Which reminded her.
She stuck her head out her office door and called after Jaycee. “I have two tickets to the symphony next Thursday. Want to go with me?”
The petite chef with flaming red hair turned and walked backwards toward the kitchen. “Where’s your lame excuse for a boyfriend this time?”
“On the road with a new act he manages. James Dillon . . . Jamie Dillon . . . Bob Dylan. I don’t know. I can never remember their names. He’s always out with a different one.”
“I’d love to go to the symphony. But you’re a sad case.” Jaycee clicked her tongue, twisted around, and hurried away.
“I really am.” Danni mumbled as she flipped on the light switch beside the door.
But I’m determined that’s going to change.
Danni said goodnight to the remaining staff and walked into the cool night air just before eleven. The outside air reinvigorated her after a long day inside the restaurant. While the spicy-sweet smell of a kitchen had an attraction of its own, garlic and other strong odors clung to clothing, hair, and skin.
But her job provided a good living. And most of her friends, peers in the industry, could relate to the long hours. You either devoted yourself to your work or you were replaced by someone who would. Even then you were vulnerable to the next great idea or innovative menu.
Danni enjoyed the challenge and thrill of competition and filled nearly every waking moment with thoughts about the restaurant. She spent full days and long nights, weekdays and weekends, on her work. When she wasn’t officially working, she was networking. As the general manager at Amoré, her responsibilities included attending Chamber of Commerce luncheons, women’s organization meetings, community functions, and charity dinners—anything that would keep the restaurant’s profile high. Even her attendance at the symphony next week was job-related.
She had dedicated the last three years of her life to promoting Amoré, and her hard work had been paying off. Traffic had increased. And so had the profit margin. The groundwork had been laid for a chain of restaurants she hoped to manage one day. Amoré’s owner, a family friend in Iowa, had promised her it would happen if she would continue to build the bottom line.
Danni waited for the traffic to pass before crossing Commerce Street and heading north on Second Avenue. Even at this time of night in the downtown historic district, business was still keen. Tourists, locals—and homeless men and women—flooded the sidewalks, sometimes spilling into the street. Those who remained until 3 a.m., when most of the businesses on Lower Broadway closed, were among the most unsavory.
With that thought came a reminder of the homeless man. Would he still be there when she returned? She tucked her chin, shielding herself from the unforgiving wind, and redirected her thoughts. Shoving her hands into her coat pocket, she chastised herself for leaving her gloves at home that morning.
Life as a whole was fulfilling in Nashville. Her career goals were well on track, even if her romantic life was going nowhere. Robert Evans had swept her off her feet three years ago with his good looks and winsome charm. And at first she had been attracted to his work ethic. But he spent more time out of town than he did at home.
Jaycee said Danni would never be able to tolerate him full time anyway. Not that it mattered, because she had decided to break up with Rob when he returned to Nashville tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps walking away came naturally to her DNA, a thought that disturbed her and had kept her with Rob longer than she should have been.
While Rob’s inability to commit was obvious even to Jaycee, the truth was more complicated than her best friend knew. The night when Danni was six years old and her mother walked away had left a lot of doubt that she could ever be loved. And perhaps even the doubt that she would even be able to recognize a healthy relationship if she could find one.
Danni stepped up her pace, searching under each streetlight and checking each doorway along her route. The chances were good she would never see the homeless man again.
Turning left on Church Street, she walked the remaining two blocks in chilly silence, seeing only a young woman with a dog, a scrappy teenager on a scooter, and a middle-aged man in a business suit. There was no sign of the dark-eyed stranger.
Once inside the main lobby of Rutherford Tow
er, she acknowledged the security guard, one she’d never seen before, and hurried to the bay of four elevators. Taking the first lift to the seventh floor, she unlocked her condo door and walked into the darkness.
“Are you okay?” The uniformed Metro police officer scowled at Caleb Samuels as he lay curled up on the Metro bus bench.
“Yes, sir.” Caleb nodded, straightening into a sitting position and clutching his lower back. “Just resting my back, sir.”
He had staked out the Rutherford for several weeks, enduring everything from mouthy teenagers to bad weather. He had no real complaint, except for the boredom that sometimes numbed his mind. With too much time to think, his past had a way of slipping up behind him, and it could choke him like the fog that sometimes rolled into downtown Nashville this time of year.
Yet, if it hadn’t been for the unfortunate turn of circumstances in his life, he would probably be behind bars instead of working for the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. God had blessed him with a second chance. He would never forgive himself for the price that had been paid for it. Only the satisfaction of knowing he was helping keep narcotics out of the hands of young people made it possible for him to look himself in the mirror each morning.
Caleb eased off the bench and assessed his surroundings, rife with possibilities. The nighttime revealed ugly truths about the drug scene. He had often watched danger shake its fist at the darkness with the audacity of an undisciplined child.
But while the darkness could mask a multitude of sins—and danger—it also danced in the daytime, wearing its everyday clothes. Some people like Robert Evans opened their door to it, fully recognizing the implications of their guest. Others were caught unaware, or unconcerned, at the unknown threat that lived among them while they politely looked away.
Caleb was grateful he had no family at home to worry about him. No one to answer to. Not even a dog. If he had to work eighteen-hour shifts to break a case, he could. No one would be pacing the floor with concern for his safety.
Although, from the looks of things, they would have had no worries tonight. It had been a slow one so far. Three more hours, and he could go home for much needed rest. For both his body and his mind. So far he had been the only agent his supervisor had been willing to assign to this case, but his gut told him it would pay off.