Gone by Dark (Carolina Moon Book 2) Read online

  Gone by Dark

  Carolina Moon Series, Book 2

  By Christy Barritt

  Gone by Dark: A Novel

  Copyright 2015 by Christy Barritt

  Published by River Heights Press

  Cover design by The Killion Group

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The persons and events portrayed in this work are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Other Books by Christy Barritt

  Squeaky Clean Mysteries:

  #1 Hazardous Duty

  #2 Suspicious Minds

  #2.5 It Came Upon a Midnight Crime

  #3 Organized Grime

  #4 Dirty Deeds

  #5 The Scum of All Fears

  #6 To Love, Honor, and Perish

  #7 Mucky Streak

  #8 Foul Play

  #9 Broom and Gloom

  #10 Dust and Obey (coming in 2015)

  The Sierra Files

  #1 Pounced

  #2 Hunted

  #2.5 Pranced (a Christmas novella)

  #3 Rattled (coming in 2015)

  The Gabby St. Claire Diaries (a tween mystery series)

  #1 The Curtain Call Caper

  #2 The Disappearing Dog Dilemma

  #3 The Bungled Bike Burglaries

  Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries

  #1 Random Acts of Murder

  #2 Random Acts of Deceit

  Carolina Moon series

  #1 Home Before Dark

  #2 Gone By Dark

  #3 Wait Until Dark (coming late 2015)

  Suburban Sleuth Mysteries:

  #1 Death of the Couch Potato’s Wife

  Standalone Romantic Suspense:

  Keeping Guard

  The Last Target

  Race Against Time

  Ricochet

  Key Witness

  Lifeline

  High-Stakes Holiday Reunion

  Desperate Measures

  Hidden Agenda

  Standalone Romantic Mystery:

  The Good Girl

  Suspense:

  The Trouble with Perfect

  Dubiosity

  Nonfiction:

  Changed: True Stories of Finding God through Christian Music

  The Novel in Me: The Beginner’s Guide to Writing and Publishing a Novel

  Special thanks to Chris Baker, Sue Smith, and Deena Peterson for their help on this book.

  Author’s note: Though Hertford is a real town, certain liberties have been taken in the novel for story purposes.

  PROLOGUE

  “Do you want to walk through the woods?” Andrea asked.

  Charity stared at her best friend. They’d been inseparable ever since they were eight years old. Today, they were sixteen, and they had a bond that was unmistakable, almost like sisters.

  “Well?” Andrea’s brown eyes remained on Charity as she waited for an answer.

  Charity surveyed the thick trees in front of them, noting how the sunlight disappeared from sight the deeper she stared into them. Miniature channels of water traversed between the trunks of oaks and cypresses and pines. Sometimes the water traveled in straight lines, sometimes in patches of puddles. The river wasn’t far away, and the ground always seemed wet and moist the closer one got to the mighty Perquimans. “You know I don’t like the woods, Andrea. They’re . . . creepy.”

  “It will take off thirty minutes from our walk. If we just cut through right here, we’ll get home and be able to have some hot chocolate sooner. It’s cold out here anyway. I say we get inside as soon as possible.” She offered an affirmative nod and put a hand on her hip. Andrea had always been the more dominant of the two, a natural born leader. She was smart and decisive, and everyone knew she was destined for bigger things than the small town of Hertford, North Carolina, where they lived.

  Charity shivered as she stared at the thick trees in front of her. Her friend was right; the walk would be shorter. And it was so cold outside. But the woods . . . they seemed so isolated. Wild animals and thick underbrush and snakes hid in the shadows.

  “We should have just waited for your mom,” Charity finally said, rubbing her arms despite the thick coat she wore. “It’s getting dark.”

  “Even more reason to make this as short as possible.” Andrea tugged at the knit hat on her head, proudly emblazoned with an Eagleton logo. Eagleton was a factory in town that employed two of Andrea’s older brothers.

  Charity and Andrea had stayed after school for drama club and had missed the bus. Charity’s mom was single and currently at work, so she couldn’t pick them up for another two hours, at the earliest. Andrea’s mom had a fund-raising committee meeting until five. Neither Charity nor Andrea was very patient, so they’d decided to walk home.

  Charity’s throat tightened as she looked at the sinking sun. There was something about the dark that she’d never been comfortable with. Truth was, fear liked to dominate her life, liked to control her decisions.

  Andrea always pleaded with her to break away from that pattern. Andrea said her fears were keeping her caged, preventing her from flying away.

  Her friend was right. Her fear had held her back—from big things and small things. Even just last month, for example. Charity hadn’t auditioned for the lead role in the school musical out of fear of failure, and Andrea, of course, had both auditioned and gotten the role. Charity knew she was a better singer and actress than Andrea. Plus, My Fair Lady was her favorite musical ever. She would have loved the role of Eliza Doolittle.

  But it was too late to change anything about that now.

  Somehow that thought jostled her into action. “Okay, we can cut through the woods, but just this once,” Charity finally conceded.

  “I’ll protect you,” Andrea said, raising her chin and heroically putting one hand on her hip and flexing the bicep of the other arm. “If anyone nefarious appears, I’ll go all She-Ra on him.”

  Andrea was such a goofball, and Charity loved her for it. She could always be counted on for a laugh. But she’d also been the one source of stability in Charity’s life. Her existence so far had been a series of ups and down—mostly downs, it seemed sometimes. She could always depend on Andrea’s friendship, though.

  Her friend held out her hand. “Come on.”

  With a deep breath, Charity walked with Andrea toward the large swath of trees that separated their school from the lonely stretch of road where they both lived. Freshly cut grass stuck to their shoes, a result of the downpour last night. That also meant the woods would be particularly damp.

  Their walk would be short, and the darkness of the woods would only surround them for a few minutes. Then the thickness of the trees would break with light as the fields of cotton behind their houses came into sight.

  Charity was overreacting. There was nothing to be scared of.

  The first few steps weren’t that frightening. The sunlight still permeated the canopy of tree branches overhead enough to reach them. The underbrush wasn’t as thick. There was no murky water. But Charity knew that the deeper they traveled, the more likely it was that the elements would sneak up on them. Stagnant water filled with parasites and other critters would be hiding on the other side of logs or beneath low-lying shrubs. Spanish moss would tickle their faces, and spiderwebs just waited for new prey, human or otherwise.

  None of that was to mention the fact that the two of them could easily get turned around. One wrong move, and they could be lost in this patch of woods.

  There it was again. Fear. If Charity we
ren’t careful, the emotion really would consume her.

  “I think this is kind of nice,” Andrea said, holding down a branch and glancing around in curiosity. “It’s enchanting.”

  “Spooky,” Charity corrected, noting that it was getting darker already.

  “It makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale or something.”

  “Bad things always happen in fairy tales.” Charity frowned.

  “Bad things happen, but they’re only as a launching pad for great things that are ahead.”

  Charity would settle for just living a good life. It didn’t have to be great; she’d accept that if it meant there’d be an end to what she felt like was one tragedy after another.

  Suddenly, Charity’s skin crawled, and she grabbed Andrea’s arm. They both paused by an old cypress tree, one absent of any foliage. It was spindly and bare, almost like a skeleton in a graveyard of dead trees. The thought made Charity tremble. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “A branch snap.”

  Andrea tilted her head with almost comical compassion. “We’re in the woods, Charity. It was probably nothing. A squirrel.”

  Charity swallowed, her throat tight as troublesome thoughts closed in. “I just want to get home. I feel really strange right now, like something’s not right.”

  She expected Andrea to make fun of her. Instead, her friend took her arm, all teasing gone. “You should trust your instincts. That’s what my dad always says. Let’s walk a little faster.”

  Relief filled her. Her friend had understood. Thank goodness she’d understood. When a girl had a friend like Andrea, she held on tight. With the barrage of heartache Charity had experienced, most people would have left. In fact, most people had left.

  Another snap sounded in the distance. This time Andrea heard it. She paused.

  In sync, they both looked over their shoulders.

  Charity screamed when she saw a man standing behind them.

  He wore some kind of black mask that only showed his eyes. And he stared at them, his large arms projecting menace. His stance seemed bulked up, like he was a soldier preparing to destroy any semblance of life around him.

  “Charity, run!” Andrea shouted.

  They took off through the thick underbrush. Tree limbs slapped their faces. Logs tried to trip them. Mud suctioned their feet to the ground.

  But they kept going. Andrea kept a firm grip on Charity’s arm.

  Charity dared to take a glance over her shoulder. Curiosity, self-preservation, terror, maybe, had propelled her to do so.

  The man . . . he’d quickly closed the space between them. He was practically close enough to touch them, to grab them, to . . . kill them.

  She sucked in a breath at the thought. Who was he? Why was he after them? Would they reach the field behind their homes in time?

  Dear Lord, please help!

  She hadn’t prayed in a long time, but now seemed just as good a time as any to start again.

  Just then, her foot got tangled in something.

  She lunged forward.

  Andrea caught her before she hit the ground.

  But so did the man.

  He grabbed Charity’s ankle, his grip like a vise.

  Charity screamed so loudly she was sure people all the way in town could hear her. She hoped they would, for that matter.

  Up close, the man looked even more terrifying. What she couldn’t see scared her the most. All his features were hidden behind that mask, behind the clothes that covered every inch of his skin. Even his eyes just seemed to be a black abyss.

  He said nothing, just clutched her ankle with a grip tighter than any she’d felt before.

  She kicked, trying to get away. Panic enveloped her.

  It was no use.

  This was it. She was going to die.

  Andrea suddenly released her grip on her arm and scrambled away. She grabbed a fallen branch and swung it toward the man. The stick hit him squarely on the head.

  The man grunted and, in that split second, released Charity.

  She scrambled away, crawling on all fours, her instinct taking over, reacting, in survival mode.

  Once the man regained his footing, anger seemed to ignite in him. He surged forward and tackled Andrea to the ground. Andrea hit the dirt hard and let out a grunt.

  Charity saw the fear in her friend’s eyes. The emotion caused grief to clutch her heart. She stepped toward her friend when the man looked up and growled. He started to grab Charity, but she pulled back, torn between what she should do.

  Grab Andrea. Find help.

  Grab Andrea. Find help.

  The man pulled Andrea to her feet and wrapped an arm around her neck.

  “Andrea!” Charity gasped, indecision tearing her apart.

  “Go, Charity! Run. Get help!” Andrea shouted.

  Her hands balled into fists. “I can’t leave you.”

  “You have to. “

  Just then, the man covered Andrea’s mouth with his large, gloved hand. Only there was something clutched there. A syringe.

  He plunged it into Andrea’s arm, and her friend went silent.

  Charity panicked, freaked out, didn’t know what to do.

  So she ran.

  She left her friend behind and went to get Andrea’s father, praying that he’d be able to help.

  CHAPTER 1

  Ten years later

  Charity White’s hands trembled as she attempted to start the rusty old lawn mower. She’d lived in an apartment for so long now that she’d forgotten the basics of lawn care. But the grass at her childhood home was overgrown, and this seemed as good a place to start as any.

  The house had been abandoned for years. Three years, to be exact. That’s when her mom had died, and the last time Charity had been here in North Carolina was for her funeral.

  She’d sworn then she was never coming back again after that day. She no longer had any reason to return.

  Yet here Charity was, already in over her head and questioning her decision to come here, and she’d been in town less than twenty-four hours.

  Funny how one unexpected, unsigned letter had turned her plans upside down. The twelve powerful words inside had been enough to lure her here again.

  I have answers for you in Hertford, but you must come now.

  She instinctively knew that the sender had been talking about Andrea. Charity only had to think about her options overnight. There was no way she’d be able to stay away, not when the possibility of finding answers dangled in front of her.

  Besides, her friend had always encouraged her to stop living in fear. Coming back to Hertford was one way of doing that. All these years, fear gripped her. Its hold on Charity had tightened and tightened until she could hardly breathe. Until panic tried to rule her life. Until worry churned in her stomach. Charity couldn’t live like this anymore.

  She’d taken a leave of absence from her job, knowing she needed to put closure to this chapter of her life once and for all. As long as questions lingered over her, she’d never feel any sense of peace. Wasn’t that what she constantly told her clients—that, to the best of their abilities, they needed to tie up loose ends and move on? It was time that she applied her own advice.

  Now she just hoped that whoever had sent that letter would reveal himself or herself, because Charity had no plan on how to find answers on her own. She’d had ten years to think about ways to track her friend, but none of them had offered a smidgen of hope. She’d sketched out timelines, followed news articles, and even started an anonymous website. She’d even tried praying.

  But nothing had happened.

  Maybe that letter was her last hope of gaining her life back. Until then, she needed to tidy up her affairs here. She’d get this house in shape and put it on the market. Finally, she’d cut all ties with this town that brought back so many bad memories for her.

  Charity jerked on the cord attached to the lawn mower again, but nothing happened.

  With a
sigh, she hung her head. The heat was stifling, and even such a minute action caused sweat to sprinkle across her forehead. She lifted her hair from her neck, trying to cool off.

  “Can I give you a hand?” a deep voice asked.

  Startled, she jerked her gaze toward the man behind her and sucked in a deep breath—both at his nearness and his striking good looks. The man was tall and well built. He had a defined face—perfectly chiseled, actually—and short light brown hair. He wore jeans and a grass-stained T-shirt that fit snug around his muscular torso. Where had he come from?

  She looked down at the lawn mower, suddenly flustered. Flustered at her cluelessness, at the realization of how she must look with sweat pouring across her skin, her blonde hair a tangled mess, and her old cutoff jean shorts and tank top. “No. No, I’m fine.”

  He nodded behind him and extended his hand. “I live next door. Joshua Haven.”

  Next door? That was Andrea’s old house. The family had moved about five years ago. Charity supposed that was when they’d accepted that Andrea was never coming back and that the memories of being there were too strong.

  Last Charity had heard, there had been some renters living there, and when they’d moved out, it was abandoned. She’d thought the house was still empty. She hadn’t seen anyone there since she arrived yesterday afternoon, and she’d been listening for any more cars coming up the lane.

  Of course, it was hard to hear anything over the box fans running in the house. Her childhood home had never had central air conditioning and had relied on window units, none of which worked anymore. Charity was thankful she’d been able to get the power and water back on, for that matter.

  “I’m Charity. Charity White.” She might as well get that out in the open.

  Her neighbor didn’t even flinch, though. He didn’t recognize her name. That could be a good thing.

  Instead, he pointed to the old, neglected house in the background. “You buy this place?”