Shattered Heart: A Single Dad Romantic Suspense

by Lara Norman

  Shattered Heart: A Single Dad Romantic Suspense

  Lara Norman

  Published by LPN Publishing, 2021.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SHATTERED HEART: A SINGLE DAD ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  First edition. January 22, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Lara Norman.

  Written by Lara Norman.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

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  To my loyal readers, who make this possible.

  Prologue

  Most of us are conditioned to live our lives as though we'll be around until we're grumbling over gray hairs. It doesn't occur to the average person, untouched by the venomous hands of death, that this isn't always the case. Some people die young; some younger than others. We tend to take our days for granted, assuming nothing can touch us. We slowly forget to say I love you every day, to never go to bed angry, or to hug our parents goodbye. We know tomorrow will dawn with the sun, no questions asked. We become complacent.

  We're idiots, basically.

  But when tragedy hits close to one of us, then we suddenly understand the truth. It's an ugly truth, but the bottom line is, we should treat every day as our last. We should take that leap, do that one thing that scares us a little. We should say the words in our hearts, and we should remember to call our parents and grandparents more often. We should have life insurance, and living wills, and burial plots. Even with those basic preparations in place, nobody wants to think about their own death, including him. But we should realize we begin our journey to death the day we’re born. No one knows when or why, just that everyone dies.

  And when death came for him with its greedy touch, it came with a screech and a yank. It came with twisted metal and broken glass. It came with blood rushing out quicker than it could be staunched. It came on a harsh cry and a broken sob. It came with her begging him to save her, and him unable to do anything but kneel in the jagged shards of what was left of his heart and beg for their Lord to take him instead. It wasn't quick or merciless, but agonizingly painful. He saw their promised forever slipping through his fingers faster than the blood she was losing. He thought of their little girl, who would grow up without a mother, left only with the man who'd let her mother die.

  He didn't have to be told there was nothing they could do. By the time the paramedics arrived, the life was gone from her eyes and what he thought he knew about his existence in this world was forever changed. His clothes were soaked with her blood as he kneeled in the spot where she died, the last place he felt whole before normalcy was ripped away.

  He was lost. Shock and devastation could do that to a person, and he was no exception. His parents came, Mommy and Daddy trying to fix what was broken. This was not a scraped knee that could be bandaged and kissed better. This was the end of his life as he knew it. His soul was sucked out, gone with her to wherever souls roamed. What was he supposed to do next?

  Taken home and pushed into the shower, he washed her blood from his body without thought of the movements. Brought to the hospital where they'd tried their best to save what was lost, he was given time to say goodbye. But what was he meant to say to a corpse? He'd done his begging and it landed on deaf ears, leaving no other words to attempt to choke out. Instead, he kissed her cold cheek and stroked the blood-soaked hair clinging to her forehead.

  And then he wept.

  He didn't know what happened after that. Days or weeks, he was completely unaware. People came and went, his mother stepping in as caretaker for him and his baby. He agreed to whatever his wife's parents wanted for a funeral, didn't even notice their icy stares and disapproving mutters about how they always knew he'd be the death of her. He didn't know his family stayed at his house until they dragged him to the funeral parlor where her body awaited them. He had nothing left, no tears and no theatrics. Her mother wailed and screamed, placing blame where it should never land, until his parents escorted her out. Family versus family meant hers went back to where they came from, and his stood by his side.

  The cemetery was the worst. Too hot in his suit, too hidden in his own mind to shut out the idea of her burial, he ripped off his tie and dropped to the ground in front of the headstone they'd picked in a rare moment of clarity for the world of possibilities. He couldn't make himself get up, couldn't force his legs to help him stand or his feet to carry him away from so much death. He remained for longer than was healthy, long past the time they had lowered her casket into the ground, past the time others went home to remember life wasn't guaranteed. He remained, and he found his tears wouldn't ebb. He feared he would lie down in the dirt until his mortal body eroded, leaving nothing but his aching bones. He knew; he knew in his heart, leaving that cemetery without her was the ultimate step toward forcing him to admit she was gone, never to return.

  And still, he remained.

  She's gone. Taken from me. What did she do to deserve that fate?

  The only thoughts in his head circled on repeat as he rearranged the flowers at her grave marker. Date of birth and date of death would be added later; they were all she would have wanted under her name. A carved stone angel sat vigil near the top of the slab, watching over her while he could not. His heart was as cold, as hard and unyielding, as the marble that proclaimed her remains would lay there until they became one with the earth. He had nothing left in his heart, nothing but that one tiny spark that insisted he kept living. Surely he'd been damned in another life, penance playing out in this lifetime. He shouldn't have to suffer her loss, but he did. He would. He hadn't been offered a choice.

  He had to return to the house packed too full of black-clothed mourners, eager to see his grief played out on his face. There was no choice but to emerge from the depths of his drowning despair, forced to live on without her. Sympathy fell flat as it became repetitive. Visitors said it by rote until he wasn't sure who was sincere and who offered platitudes. Anxious hands stroking, patting, touching when he wanted no human contact. Choking on profanities he tried desperately not to spew, he escaped to his bedroom and closed the door. Almost immediately there was a knock.

  "Can I come in?" His brother; a sincere mourner.

  "Yeah." The sound was no louder than a croak. He sank onto his bed when his knees would have buckled.

  "What can I do?" Caleb stood over him, hovered even, a stranger to this level of grie
f.

  There was no sound but his pulse beating ever steady in his ears, despite his wish to the contrary.

  "Devon?"

  "Yeah." The words from the question hadn't retained in his ears, flitting through his brain like so many bats in an empty cave.

  "What can I do?"

  Devon tried to think. He needed nothing for himself, but there was one who needed more than he could give at the moment. "Have Lori take the baby." He choked on the short response, his palm pressing tightly to cracked lips.

  "Mom has Hailey's things ready to go."

  "What do I do now?" Devon desperately wanted the answer to that question. He would pay his life's wages if someone could tell him how to heal the agony settled on his chest. It was the same weight and size as the rock they’d buried her under.

  "Live one day at a time, I guess."

  Where once there would have been a snort of disbelief at the trite phrase, he was instead consumed with silence. He fell sideways onto the bed and buried his nose in sheets that smelled of her. Tears were a torrent that would not be stemmed, despite the brother that engulfed him in his arms. He didn't fight them off as he had downstairs. Caleb was a comfort in a world where he had recently found none.

  "Stay."

  The broken plea was met with a fervent nod. Caleb would stay to see his brother through his pain. Mourners left to live their lives, but Devon remained in his room. Days where he forgot to feed himself or shower, his brother was there to prod him into action. Though the pain morphed into an empty numbness, Devon could not move on. Caleb showed up daily without fail, keeping his brother alive in the morning and again at night while running their business during the day. When so much time had passed and he hadn't seen his daughter, Caleb had Lori bring her over. The pain of seeing his beloved wife in the face of the daughter she left behind tore at him. She was too young to know the tragedy of her mother dying, and Devon vowed to keep her mother's memory alive for her. She was the only thing that got him out of bed in the morning, and soon he realized that he had to continue living for her sake. Hailey needed him, and so he locked away his agony in the daylight while he cared for his infant and Caleb went back to his life. Only in the darkest hours would he unlock the cage around his heart and allow his sorrow to break free. In the midnight hours, he was ripped to shreds, only to be made whole again with the sunrise and his sweet Hailey.

  It took more than mere months to function as a whole human being, but it became less of an effort to take a deep breath as the anniversary of her death came and went. He took Hailey to the cemetery often, somehow feeling his wife looking down on them and knowing they survived. One day he hoped to show her they were more than surviving, but flourishing. Slowly but surely the tides turned until Devon was as normal as he thought he would ever be after suffering his greatest loss.

  The brothers' business once again thrived. Old friends were welcome at his house once more. When summer came, he could be found in the backyard manning the grill with family and friends surrounding him. His child grew like a weed, blocking out the sun until she was his golden orb. She was the brightest light in his life, his Hailey. Walking and talking turned into reading and writing as the first day of school came and went. She was the only reason for his existence now.

  It had been four years since his wife died. Many seasons had passed. Now the leaves were changing color and pumpkins were rotting on porches when his world tilted off its axis for a second time.

  Chapter One

  For the last few months, Hailey had ridden the bus to and from school. A smart girl, she was talkative and friendly to everyone. She was a bright spot in everyone's day at the workshop where her father and uncle ran their business, McMillan Brothers Woodworking. There was a rotating list of who would walk her to the bus stop and pick her up, depending on who was available if Devon was too busy. That day, her Aunt Lori picked her up from the bus stop and let her play with the dollhouse tucked into the private room of the shop office. Hailey would come into the shop with whoever had picked her up and say hello to her father, get a snack from the mini fridge, and either do homework or play in the office. Lori ran the office portion of the business, answering phone calls, taking orders, and maintaining their website. She was the one to keep watch over Hailey more often than not; they had a powerful bond after Lori cared for her so much in the days after Hailey's mother Kathy died.

  When Devon was done with his workday, he stepped into the front room to get his daughter, but she was nowhere to be found.

  "What do you mean she isn't here?" Devon demanded of his tearful sister-in-law.

  Lori was beside herself with guilt that Hailey wasn't where she'd last seen her. "After she got her snack, she was coloring at the table. I never saw her leave the office, and I've been right here." After indicating her chair at the desk just outside the office door, Lori sniffed and wiped at her cheeks with her palms.

  "How did she leave the front office if you were here? Are you sure you didn't leave for any reason?" Devon grabbed her arm and shook it, knowing he was being too aggressive, too rough with Lori, but his baby was missing and his judgment was clouded.

  "I swear, the only time I moved was to use the bathroom, but I looked in on her after I came back. The phones have been ringing nonstop today. I guess she snuck out behind me."

  Devon recognized the desperate look in her eyes and backed off. Lori loved Hailey like her own, and she was pregnant. He wasn't capable of being nicer to her at that moment, so he paced away from her while he thought about what they should do.

  He found Caleb in the shop in the back of the building and told him he was needed. Together they looked all throughout the shop, checking in cupboards, closets, and the bathroom, as they shouted her name repeatedly. They looked in the woods behind the building and in everyone's vehicles. Then they called the school, family members, Hailey's friends, and friends of friends. Nobody had seen his little girl.

  The tension built in Devon's chest until he finally exploded, throwing what tools were nearest to his hand. Chisels and rasps flew across the room, chipping wood and breaking glass. "What the fuck!"

  Caleb did his best to console him, but there was nothing Devon needed more in that moment than his daughter in his arms.

  It can't be happening again. I can't lose anyone else.

  The two men made their way to the front office to see if anything had changed. Through the windows they watched as a Merrimac Police car pulled into the gravel lot, the shade of blue similar to the faded paint on the building the brothers leased. Lori was waiting for them in the parking lot, and a middle-aged woman in a uniform climbed out of the vehicle and immediately started asking questions.

  "I told her to go ahead and call them to help us look. You need to remain calm." Caleb placed his hand on Devon's shoulder, as much to hold him in place as to comfort him.

  "Fuck that." Devon paced, he cursed, and he watched every move the people arriving made. Somebody knew something. A five-year-old couldn't just disappear.

  Suddenly, so many people were there: his parents, teachers, too many bodies reminding him of his wife's wake. More police were taking more statements until there was Vince, hugging him and telling him he was sorry.

  "She can't just be gone."

  Devon held onto his best friend for a minute, seeking a sense of reassurance. "They'll find her, right?"

  Vince nodded. "They have to. I'm sure she's fine, Devon. Everybody knows everybody in this town, and someone will spot her. I'm sure she thought she could walk down to the ice cream store or to a friend's house or something."

  Vince's words mollified him for a few seconds. It was true Hailey thought she was big enough to walk alone, but he had never allowed her to do it.

  "Devon." Caleb waved him over to where he was holding the door open for a woman in uniform. "This is Chief Hemsworth. She wants to know when you last saw Hailey."

  "Really?" Devon asked in agitation. It was obvious he had nothing to do with whatever had happened to h
er. He wanted their resources focused on finding out where she'd snuck off to, not on questioning him. "She came into the back part of the shop after Lori picked her up from the bus stop this afternoon. About three-fifteen."

  "We just need to start a timeline, sir. The more information we can gather, the better." The woman's voice was unperturbed at Devon's attitude. It wasn't unusual for a distressed parent to be irritable.

  Devon looked over at the chief. She was in her mid-forties by Devon's guess, dark hair and eyes with a kind face. She wore a thick black coat with an embroidered badge on the left breast, the name R. Hemsworth on the opposite side.

  "Are there people looking for her? Officers?" Devon asked, not giving a damn how rude his tone of voice was.

  Chief Hemsworth nodded. "Yes. Your . . ." Pausing, she looked at her notes. "Your sister-in-law, Lori McMillan, showed us a recent picture of Hailey on her cell phone. I have sent it out to all my men and women. They're at the school, in the surrounding woods, and on the streets."

  “She seems to think she’s big enough to walk into town on her own, though I’ve never allowed it. Maybe she wandered off while Lori was busy.”

  Devon watched the chief write that down. "And your wife, can we speak to her and ask when she last saw your daughter?"

  Devon stood frozen for long seconds, all the air leached from his lungs. No one had asked about Kathy in a very long time. He almost didn't know what to say.

  Sorry, the last time my wife saw her daughter was when Hailey was in diapers. Then she died and left me to raise our baby alone.

  "M-my, um, my w-wife . . ." He had to stop talking and lean over with his hands on his knees. His breath was coming in sharp pants and he closed his eyes against the spinning room.

  Caleb spoke up instead as the chief frowned at Devon's distress over what she thought was an innocuous question. "Hailey's mother passed away four years ago."

  Devon's breathing slowed as his brother rubbed his back. Chief Hemsworth scribbled some more, then stepped away to speak to an officer. When she returned, she handed a station business card to Devon.