When Noonday Ends: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Nantahala - Book Two

by Carmen DeSousa

  “Hey…how come I don’t get to hit you in the face?”

  “In due time...” Chad laughed. “Let’s teach you how to hit first, then you can try to get me back.”

  Tom threw his first punch as Chad had instructed. Elbows in, close to his body, throw from the hip, and aim for the back of the ‘bad guy’s’ head, he’d told him.

  “Again! Same punch! Pretend it’s my face…that should help,” Chad shouted.

  One after another, Tom felt his punches become more direct, more powerful. Chad even had to balance himself a few times.

  “Twist that rear foot, throw from the hip. You’re a big man, Tom. Put that weight behind it.” Chad steadied himself again, pulling both pads in. “Combo now. Throw that left jab, and before I know what’s happening, come up with an uppercut and take me out.”

  Tom threw both punches again and again.

  Chad stepped back a step and dropped the block pads on the floor. “All right…mano a mano, Tom. Let’s see what you got. You can throw all the punches you want. But if you can’t block them, you’ll be on the ground.”

  He was ready. He felt it. He bounced a little, softening his knees, pulling into his fighter’s stance as Chad had called it.

  Chad threw a punch, but thankfully didn’t follow through with it, as it would have landed squarely against his face. “Block, Tom. I’m gonna start with a few soft jabs.” He threw again, calling out his shots. “Left jab. Right Jab. Uppercut.”

  Tom blocked each punch as Chad threw it.

  “Now. Go! You got a longer reach, Tom. I shouldn’t be able to get to you.”

  Tom threw and Chad ducked, coming back up with a soft tap to his kidneys.

  “We didn’t practice that yet,” Tom complained.

  “Is that what you’re gonna tell the next guy who hits you, Tom? Block me, man! Move your body. Dance!”

  Tom laughed. Chad knew he couldn’t dance. Chad threw a right jab, and this time, Tom ducked and came back with a left and then followed up with the right uppercut, knocking Chad to the floor.

  “Oh, my God, I did it!” Then he saw Chad on the floor. “I’m sorry, man…I didn’t mean—”

  Chad waved him off. “Yep. You sure did. You rang my bell, man! Give me a sec.” Chad smiled and popped up on his feet, and the game was on.

  Tom didn’t put his weight into the punches anymore, nor did Chad. They just danced around, throwing punches and blocks. He finally had it. And Chad had been right…his two inches of height on Chad made all the difference. Once Tom got moving, it was hard for Chad to connect.

  Not that Tom could hit Chad if he didn’t want him to. His friend had years of skill and was fast. He’d be in front of him and then behind him before Tom even had a chance to swing.

  Chad stepped back and nodded, smiling. “That’ll do, Tom. That’ll do! You’ve done well, grasshopper.”

  “Thank you, Master,” Tom joked.

  His friend smacked him on the arm. “Go get cleaned up. Cassandra will have dinner ready. You can use the shower down here.” Chad turned toward the door that led to the basement from the garage, but then turned to him. “Oh, by the way, tell Cassie how great she looks tonight. She’s been feeling lousy lately.”

  Tom laughed. “Wait a minute. You want me to tell your wife she looks good. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yeah, it does. Tell her how glowing she is.”

  “Glowing?” Tom cocked his head at Chad, narrowing his eyes.

  Chad’s response was a huge smile. “She’s pregnant. Just two months. But she’s been sick again. Not as sick as last time, since the doctor put her on that medicine they give cancer patients, but she still feels nauseated most of the time.”

  Tom slapped him on the back. “Congratulations! Two kids. Wow.” He shook his head and smiled. “You’re a lucky man, Chad.”

  “I know,” he drawled with his southern inflection that always drove the ladies wild when they went out together.

  Tom had tried to mimic it when he was nineteen and Chad was twenty-two, but it wasn’t something you could duplicate. If you were born in the South, you had it. Otherwise, it sounded bogus.

  After a steaming-hot shower, Tom searched through the closet in Chad’s old room for something that’d fit. He opted for a pair of cotton shorts, as most of Chad’s sweatpants would be too short.

  Feeling nostalgic, he grabbed a t-shirt with the acronym ROCK stitched across the front. Printed on the back was a four-square scene boasting what the initials meant: rafting, outfitters, canoeing, and kayaking.

  Tom walked out onto the deck adjacent the room and leaned against the railing. He stared out over Lake Nantahala. It was so peaceful this time of night, even the cicadas hadn’t emerged too early this year, filling the evening with their vociferous symphony. Instead, a few crickets and frogs provided a soft soundtrack, almost lulling him asleep.

  The sun had already made its descent behind the trees, but the sky still had remnants of pinks and purples. The thought of enjoying the state he loved so much with a family bombarded his senses again.

  It wasn’t as if he was old; he wasn’t even twenty-seven yet. But he was ready. He wanted someone to spend his nights with, not just his bed. He’d been through that life, and it’d left him unfulfilled. Momentary pleasure couldn’t replace deep-seated emotional desires, never had. If he were being honest, he wanted to love someone and for them to return that love. He wanted what Chad and Cassandra had, what his parents had.

  He sighed and pushed away from the railing, turning to go up to eat dinner. “Oh, hey. I was just coming up,” he said to his best friend standing in the doorway.

  Chad shrugged. “Dinner’s not quite ready. Want to talk about it?”

  Tom cocked his head. “Talk about what?”

  “Tom, I’ve known you for a long time. Something’s up.” Chad motioned his hand to the swing on the deck. “Come on. Let’s talk it out.” Chad walked outside without waiting for a response, taking a seat on the swing.

  He strolled over and took a seat on the far right side of the swing, leaving a space between them. “Well, this is quaint. Should we get Cassandra to join us?”

  “You’re trying to deflect with humor…it’s not gonna work.”

  Tom sighed. “When did you become a psychiatrist? I know you went to medical school, but last time I checked, you didn’t graduate.”

  Chad laughed. “And now you’re throwing barbs. I did graduate. With an MBA, thank you very much. I just realized I had no desire to be a doctor. I’d simply been trying to impress my father...” He cleared his throat, narrowing his gaze.

  “Ouch!” Tom whipped his head to the side as if Chad had hit him. “Man, you can beat me up mentally and physically. That was low. Why are we friends again?”

  “Because you used me to get a job at my parents’ rafting company so you could pick up hot girls. And then did the meanest thing and introduced me to your sister.” Chad turned toward him, resting against the armrest. “That was a lame move to keep all the girls for yourself, you know.”

  Tom laughed. “It all worked out.”

  Chad nodded and hit him in the shoulder. “Talk. Who is she? The last time I saw you so consumed you wanted my wife.”

  Sighing, Tom closed his eyes. “Her name’s Shelby Castle.”

  “Castle? As in the Shelby Castle who killed her husband?”

  Tom nodded, but then dropped his head, shaking it. “The woman questioned in her ex-husband’s death…not convicted. You of all people should know that, Chad.” Tom released a whoosh of air and a burst of laughter escaped. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Are you her attorney? I thought that big shot Belcher was, according to the news.”

  “No. But I was supposed to be until he rode in on his horse. I met her last week after she’d been arrested for hitting her ex-husband, landing him in a coma. But then he woke up and said she hadn’t hit him, that he’d fallen. She gets out, leaves the jail with him, and the next morning he’s dead,
and she’s calling me for help again.”

  Chad patted him on the shoulder. “Man. Um…I’m not sure where to begin.”

  “I know,” Tom admitted. He met his friend’s poignant gaze. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  “She looks an awful lot like Brandy. Cassie and I almost fell off the couch when we saw her on the news.”

  Tom huffed out a breath. “She’s nothing like her, Chad. I swear she’s innocent. She’s just in a bad situation, I’m sure of it. Her brother, the guy who took me down, screamed that he killed Carlin Castle and she was innocent, but I’m pretty sure he was trying to get her released.” He shook his head, confused. “I wish I could get her out of my head.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Shelby wrapped a towel around her head as she stepped out of the shower, then pulled her robe around her as she walked through her bedroom to the French doors overlooking the backyard and the lake below.

  As she started to open the door, she jumped back. Clayton and Andy were on the dock, shouting at each other.

  She sprinted across the hall to check that Justin was still asleep, then ran to her bedroom closet to change. Clayton had no business fighting with her brother. He probably didn’t like the fact that he was here. On his property. The rich snob. She’d always liked Clayton, but no one would abuse her brother. They were a team; she’d die for him.

  After shimmying into her favorite pair of skinny jeans, she grabbed a tank top from the shelf and ran to the doors as she pulled it over her head.

  “Hey!” she screamed as soon as she stepped onto her back porch. Both men turned their focus to her as she jogged down the sloped lawn toward them. “This is my house, since you won’t let me leave, and he’s my guest. You gotta problem with that, Clayton?”

  “We were just talking, Shelby. I don’t have a problem with Andy being here.”

  “Then what y’all fussing about?”

  “Nothing, Shell,” Andy answered, walking away from Clayton. “I gotta go check on Momma anyway. You comin’ home?”

  Shelby shook her head. “This is Justin’s home, Andy. I can’t rip him out of his life here.”

  Andy bit his lip and shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but bit his lip again, then turned away from her, walking at a fast pace to his truck.

  “Wait, Andy—” she called out to her brother, her heart torn. She had a beautiful house with everything she needed. And now that Carlin was gone, why should she leave if they didn’t force her?

  He waved her off without turning around. “Do what you want, Shell. Always have.” He picked up his pace and was out of sight in a few seconds.

  Shelby stood there, planted to the ground as she listened to the roar of his truck start up and squeal out of the driveway. She released a long sigh as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  He thought she’d chosen the Castles over him. She’d never do that. But she had to do what was best for Justin. He was the only person who mattered. She loved her brother, but her son had to come first.

  “Honey…” Clayton placed his hand on her shoulder. She wanted to shake it off, but she needed the support of someone in her life. And for some reason, Clayton had always been kind to her. “He knows you love him. He’s just—”

  She whirled toward him, cutting him off. “Don’t you say anything bad about my brother! He’s better than all y’all put together.”

  Her father-in-law shook his head. “I wasn’t gonna say anything about him. I’ve always liked Andy. We just don’t see eye to eye on some things. He was upset that I wanted you and Justin to stay is all.”

  Shelby nodded in understanding. “Oh, that makes sense.” She inhaled a deep breath, attempting to swallow her tears. “He’s all I got other than Justin.”

  “You have me, Shell. You’re the mother of my grandchild. You will always have me.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Again, she wanted to shake off his embrace, but it felt too good, as if for once in her life, a parental figure actually cared about her. She was a grown woman, but she still felt like a child in his arms. He squeezed her tighter, but then suddenly let her go, looking over her shoulder.

  Shelby turned to see a man approaching them. He wasn’t one of the detectives from earlier, but he must be…he just had that detective look. And though he was well built and trim, with a bit of an afternoon shadow trailing up his jaw, just below his slightly round cheeks, he didn’t look intimidating. He just looked like a good ol’ southern boy. Not a hard worker like Andy, but just a downhome type of guy, with an easy disposition.

  “Clayton Castle?” the man asked as he stopped within ten feet of Clayton and her.

  Clayton stepped in front of Shelby, almost as though he were protecting her from the man. “Yes, sir. And you are?”

  “Investigator Jason Bearns. Do you and your wife have a few minutes?”

  Clayton whipped his head around to Shelby. “Oh, this is my daughter-in-law. My wife’s inside, but she won’t be available to talk.”

  Bearns whisked the back of his hand up his jaw and nodded, a slow smile playing on his lips, and Shelby knew exactly what he was thinking seeing the two of them in an embrace.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Shelby started to walk off toward her house, “my son will be awake soon.”

  “Um, Miss…” he called from behind her. She turned to him. “I’d like to speak with you too.”

  “But the detectives already questioned me this morning about Carlin’s death. My attorney told me not to speak to anyone else.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not a police detective; I’m a private investigator, Ma’am. I’m here about Roger Hale. He went missing last night, and according to his wife, the last call to his cell was from Clayton Castle.”

  “I don’t even know a Roger Hale,” Shelby shot back.

  The man turned to Clayton. “How ’bout you, Mr. Castle? Do you know Roger Hale?”

  Clayton nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. Of course I do. He’s my stable master. He and his father before him have worked for my wife’s family even before I married her. Do I need to call my attorney?”

  Bearns shrugged. “Up to you…I don’t know what Ashville P.D. is doing. Again, I’m working for his wife. She evidently checked his cell phone records when he didn’t come home last night. Do you think you need an attorney?”

  “Nah,” Clayton said, unfazed by the insinuation. “I didn’t call him. I’ll ask my wife if she had a question for Hale.”

  The investigator nodded, his head held at a slight tilt. “Do you mind if I speak with your wife, Mr. Castle?”

  “That’s not possible at the moment. She’s heavily medicated. Her son drowned last night, if you hadn’t heard.”

  “I heard.” Bearns turned to Shelby again. “Can I have a few minutes?”

  Clayton stepped between them. “She does have an attorney. So, if you have any questions, you’ll have to set it up with Randall Belcher.”

  Bearns smiled. “I see. Well, I’ll see the two of you later, then.” He whistled a tune Shelby wasn’t familiar with as he strutted off. Obviously, the private investigator got exactly what he wanted from this stop. And Shelby couldn’t imagine what connection she would have to this stable master. She’d never even been inside the stable. Carlin had never liked her talking with any of the hired-help, as he referred to them.

  Once the man was in his car and driving down the driveway, Shelby turned to Clayton. “Do you mind watching Justin tonight? I need to get out of here for a little while.”

  Clayton nodded his answer. Evidently, she was free to leave and do as she pleased, as long as she didn’t take Justin with her, that is.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “T.T.,” Turner screamed, dropping his toy and throwing his arms up in the air as soon as Tom opened the gate that blocked off the great room from the spare bedrooms and basement.

  Tom felt privileged that before Turner could barely say ‘Mama’ or ‘Dada’, he’d been able to say
‘T.T.’ The competition had been in full swing with Chad on that one. Cassandra had laughed when he was over and Chad had tried to show him how Turner could say ‘Dada’.

  He darted over to the thirteen-month-old boy, sitting in a myriad of toys, and scooped him up. “Vroom…” he rumbled off his best jet engine as he spun his godson, as he preferred to think of him, around the living area as if he were an airplane. Turner squealed with delight.

  Cassandra carried a plate of something that smelled absolutely delicious to the long rectangular table. She hadn’t changed a thing in the house since the Wilkinsons had passed away. Most women he’d met would try to redecorate his apartment within a few weeks of their first date. Always grumbling that it needed to be homier, with more decorations.

  Well, he was fine the way things were. When a woman became his wife, she could have all the fun she wanted redecorating; he’d actually enjoy it. But for now, his apartment was easy to keep clean. A cleaning lady came in once a week to do all the menial tasks that he didn’t have time for; not that he knew how to do them anyway. He did well to start the dishwasher. If he kept a bunch of knickknacks around the house, they’d just gather dust anyway.

  “Oh my word that smells delicious, Cass. You certainly know the way to a bachelor’s heart. When are you going to leave Chad for me?” It’d become a standing joke, as he knew neither Chad nor Cass took him seriously. They were the happiest couple he knew, even happier than his parents, and that was saying a lot. His parents had been married thirty-three years, and he still caught sight of his father copping a feel when he and his mother were up for the summer. It used to gross him out, but now he longed for that type of relationship. What had happened to that guy who had wanted a different woman to fill his bed every night, he wondered.

  Chad grabbed Cass by the waist as she set the dish on the table and pulled her against him, kissing her neck in the process. Marking his territory as he always did for fun. “Not on your life, Tom. She’s all mine. Every square inch of her.”

  Oh, that’s right… Chad was cueing him. “Well, Cass, I have to say that not only does the food look great as usual, so do you. Did you change something? I swear you look…” he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘glowing’; she’d catch them for sure. “Je ne sais quoi…um… éclatant…radiant.”