Gone by Dark (Carolina Moon Book 2) Page 2

  She shrugged, not wanting to give too much information. Soon enough, everyone would know she was back in town. She didn’t recognize this man, which meant he’d probably moved here sometime after she left. The town was small, and everyone seemed to know everyone, unless something had changed in the last decade, which she doubted. Certainly the gossip chain would reveal her story soon enough.

  He’d asked her a question. You buy this place?

  “Not exactly,” she finally said, swiping a wayward hair behind her ear.

  He stared at her another moment, and she realized how illegal what she said might have sounded.

  “The house used to be my mom’s,” she explained, already sharing more details than she’d desired.

  She watched his face carefully for a reaction, but there was none. Most people around here knew about her mom. Knew about the family. Knew about the tragedy that always surrounded them.

  “It will be good to have someone else nearby. This road is pretty quiet. As a cop, I usually appreciate that fact. Peace and quiet.”

  A cop? Great. She didn’t have much respect for cops, and she had a list of reasons why. Still, she nodded. “Well, I promise that I’ll give you that peace and quiet.”

  “Wasn’t trying to imply otherwise.” He offered an apologetic smile before glancing at the lawn mower. “You sure you don’t need a hand?”

  “I’m just . . . I’m just trying to start this thing.”

  “Did you prime it?”

  “Prime it?”

  He grinned. “You have to press this button here to force the gasoline into the lines. There is gasoline in the mower, right?”

  She nodded. She had remembered to check that.

  Her neighbor pressed the button a few times. Then he held the starting lever down and jerked on the handle, pulling a cord back. The lawn mower roared to life.

  “So that’s how you do it,” she said above the hum of the mower. She grabbed the handle, afraid if he let go, she’d never get it started again. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” He drew his hands back and hesitated a moment.

  Charity just needed for him to go away. She needed to compose herself, to build her little fortress of self-preservation where she felt safe and untouchable. Being around Joshua Haven already made her feel off balance.

  “Thank you again,” she told him over the rumble of the mower. She took a step forward but could hardly push the machine through the thick, overgrown grass. Her cheeks heated at the thought of having an audience here to witness her absolute failure.

  She gave the mower another shove, but the machine wouldn’t move through the thick grass. She released her grip on the handle, and the motor went silent again, filling the air with uncomfortable, awkward silence.

  Charity hated feeling off-kilter. She’d worked hard to overcome her past, to remain in control of her persona. It had worked, too. She was a professional woman, respected in her field of work. She was known as quiet and private, but compassionate and trustworthy.

  She had to stay in Hertford and hold her own, even if it meant feeling out of her comfort zone. Even if it required facing her worst nightmares.

  Facing memories of . . . Andrea.

  Her heart lurched at the thought of her best friend. Even after all these years, the pain still hadn’t subsided. It was always there still, lingering just beneath the surface. Maybe she wouldn’t ever be able to put it behind her, with or without closure.

  “Do you want me to bring my riding mower over?” Joshua asked, eyeing her with a touch of concern in his eyes.

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’ll manage.”

  “It’s really not a problem. I could have your yard cut in less than an hour. It’s going to take you all day.”

  She ran a hand through her tangled blonde hair, wishing she’d taken a moment to fix it. The humidity of the late August day blanketed the area, causing her hair to curl more than usual.

  Before she could respond, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She hoped it was her friend Lucy texting her an interesting tidbit from work.

  Judge Matthews had lunch on his mustache during a trial today. Tuna salad. Not pretty.

  Defense attorney Al Hastings got the case files mixed up and called his client by the wrong name.

  The sheriff’s deputy at the courthouse flirted with me again today.

  All those texts would be classic Lucy.

  Charity pulled her phone from her back pocket and glanced down at her screen.

  As soon as she read the message, Charity gasped.

  Do you want to walk through the woods?

  Was someone playing a twisted game with her?

  ***

  When Joshua saw the color drain from Charity’s face, some kind of protective instinct stirred in him. He started to reach for her but stopped himself. “Is everything okay?”

  She quickly shoved her phone back into her pocket and let out a weak, not quite believable laugh. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a bad joke.”

  Joshua watched her expression and saw her cheek twitch, a sure giveaway she wasn’t telling the truth. Everyone had tics—subtle indications they weren’t telling the truth. Charity wasn’t very good at hiding her lie. Joshua’s instincts had been trained from his days as a cop.

  Charity looked away, obviously feeling self-conscious. As she turned, Joshua’s gaze traveled from her cheek to her collarbone. A scar stretched across the skin there.

  His throat tightened. How had she gotten that? The mark looked big enough and painful enough that there had to be a story behind it.

  She must have noticed Joshua studying her, because she tugged the strap of her tank top over the scar. At least she tried to. The mark was too large to conceal.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you,” she said, offering what appeared to be a forced smile. “I’ll only be in town for a short time, long enough to get my affairs here in order before I go back to Tennessee.”

  He nodded. “Well, if you need anything while you’re here, let me know. The offer to cut your grass still stands. I don’t know if your old mower here is going to cut it—literally.”

  Charity offered what looked like a dismissive smile. “I’m sure I’ll manage just fine. Thank you, though.”

  Joshua walked back to his own yard so he could continue pulling weeds from his small but ample flower bed. It had been a long shift with the police department, and he was glad to be home and outside doing something semi-relaxing. He’d spent his shift as a mediator between two neighbors squabbling over free-range chickens, had pulled someone over for a DUI, and had worked with social services in a custody dispute case.

  But his conversation with his new neighbor still remained foremost in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push it aside.

  What had that been about? Charity had seemed so skittish. Her eyes had widened, her hands shook, and her breaths came in hurried little gasps. Something on that phone had shaken her up.

  Even with her stubborn—perhaps foolish—determination, Joshua had to admit that the woman was appealing. She had a pleasant, heart-shaped face and a pert nose, and was so petite that she almost looked like a teenager. Tendrils of silky blonde hair clung to her neck, and dirt was smudged across her face.

  Not that any of that mattered. Any attraction he felt had to be nipped in the bud. Though he was a changed man now, different than he’d been two years ago, the effects of his last relationship still lingered heavy in his heart. He was better off remaining single and focusing on his job.

  Just then, he spotted his friend’s truck bumping down the gravel lane, coming toward his house. Ryan Shields hopped out and strode toward him.

  “Hey, man. What’s going on?” Ryan called.

  Ryan owned the local car repair shop in town, and the two had bonded over their love of vintage cars. Later, they’d started going to the same church. They’d been fast friends since then.

  “I just had the strangest experience,” Joshua muttered. He glance
d over at his neighbor and saw her steal an uneasy glance his way. “Do you know her?”

  Ryan followed his gaze and frowned. “I can’t say for sure, but she looks like Charity White.”

  “Should I know that name?”

  Ryan shook his head and pressed his lips together again. “No, I haven’t seen her in years. Since she graduated high school, probably. Never thought she’d be back, but I heard a rumor she was in town.”

  “I tried to help her with her lawn mower, but she acted uncomfortable,” Joshua finished, collecting various weeds he’d thrown on the sidewalk and stuffing them into a lawn bag. “Something just isn’t sitting right with me about our conversation.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s had a tough time, to say the least. She was younger than me, and when everything went down, I was already up in New York. I never really knew her well, but I don’t envy what she went through. It would test the strongest person.”

  “A tough time?” Joshua’s curiosity spiked.

  “That’s a conversation for a day when I have more time.” Ryan held up the paper in his hands. “I need you to approve these flyers so I can get them to the printer before they close tonight.”

  “Sure thing. Sounds great.” Joshua and Ryan had put together a car show and concert featuring Ryan’s fiancée, Daleigh McDermott. The show was a fund-raiser for Ryan’s nephew, who was in a wheelchair.

  Even as they discussed the car show, Joshua’s mind lingered on his mysterious new neighbor. He just needed to stay focused on his job in this new town and on helping with the car show. But as he glanced over at Charity one more time, he realized that would be easier said than done.

  ***

  Do you want to walk through the woods?

  Charity couldn’t breathe as she remembered the message on her phone. Who had sent her that text message? Why would someone do that?

  She downed her last sip of ice water and leaned against the porch railing. The drink had cooled her off but not enough. She rubbed the cold glass against her forehead, her cheeks, and her neck, even.

  Was it the late August heat that made her sweat or the text message?

  Probably it was both.

  She glanced around, half-expecting to see someone watching her from afar. The only person she spotted was her neighbor, Joshua Haven, as he waved good-bye to someone pulling away in a truck.

  He was a police officer, he’d said. That was just great. She’d had a string of bad experiences with police officers, most recently when she’d dated one.

  She found them all hard to trust, though she would never admit it. She worked as a victim advocate, so she had to work one-on-one with police officers almost daily. That was how she’d met Bradley.

  Bradley had destroyed the last bit of faith she had in humanity. She’d waited for so long to truly trust a man with her heart. And all she had to show for it now was regret.

  She put those thoughts aside and drew in a deep breath of pure country air. From where she stood, she could see the gravel road stretching along beside a fortress of woods. The road led to a stretch of lazy highway that cut through eastern North Carolina.

  Beside this property was Joshua’s house. Andrea had grown up there, and the two girls had instantly bonded as children. They’d made mud pies, and picked cotton from the neighbor’s fields, and had watermelon-eating contests between just the two of them.

  Those memories had been so powerful in her life for so long. Now they brought so much pain.

  Joshua had done a good job keeping the place up. There were neat little flower beds, a nicely mowed lawn, and clean paint on the exterior walls. To the right was a field full of cotton. Last Charity knew, a man in town leased the property for farming.

  Behind the house was a small shed where she’d found the lawn mower. Even farther back were the woods where Andrea was abducted.

  She frowned. Who even knew that Andrea had said those words to Charity before their jaunt in the woods that day so long ago? No one did; no one but Andrea.

  But it couldn’t have been Andrea who sent the message . . . that just wasn’t possible. Besides, only a few people had Charity’s number, and most of them were back in Tennessee.

  So how had someone gotten it?

  Oh, God, what’s happening?

  She looked to the sky, as if that’s where God watched her from—a distance, only watching but not really caring. Almost as if human life amused Him. Like people’s lives were simply TV shows. Maybe that’s what we all are: God’s soap opera.

  Her heart beat out of control, her chest was tight, and she could hardly breathe.

  When she finally got herself under control, she pulled out her phone again. Thankfully it hadn’t broken. As she read the message there again, fresh terror washed over her, as if she’d just seen the message for the first time. She forced herself to look beyond the words to the phone number.

  It was unlisted.

  She had to think this through. If not Andrea, then who could have sent the message? The man who’d abducted Andrea, maybe. But why?

  She had so many questions. Coming home had already only proven to offer more puzzling mysteries and less of the answers she so desired.

  She wanted to run, to leave.

  But she couldn’t do that. She’d been running for the past ten years. She couldn’t do it anymore. She had to face her fears . . . even if her fears killed her.

  CHAPTER 2

  The next morning, Joshua reported for his shift at the police station. He wasn’t supposed to work today, but the other officer, Isaac, had to take a trip to visit his mother, who was recovering from minor surgery. As of now, it was only Joshua, Chief Rollins, and their dispatcher, Lynn.

  Joshua hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his new neighbor since their encounter yesterday. Though it was none of his business, curiosity burned inside him and made him want to know more about her, especially after the cryptic conversation with Ryan.

  If he’d had more time last night, Joshua would have done some research himself. Instead, he’d gone to see his four-year-old son, Rider, and taken him out for pizza and ice cream. Rider was leaving for vacation today with his mom and stepdad. They’d be gone for two weeks on a cruise and a trip to Disney. Joshua wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself not seeing his son for that long.

  “Good morning,” Chief Rollins called as she walked into the station, her perfunctory cup of chicory coffee from the Have a Nice Day Café in hand. Everyone said the chief reminded them of Reba McEntire. She was a pint-sized, redheaded spitfire.

  “You have a minute?”

  Chief Rollins raised a thin eyebrow as she crossed to the other side of the desk and sat down. “I have about an hour before I have to be in court. Come into my office.”

  Joshua sat across from her and lifted a prayer that he’d remain respectful. The chief was a nice woman, but he didn’t always agree with her tactics. She acted like being police chief was equivalent to being an elected official, which made sense when considering her background was as a sheriff’s deputy. She too often made decisions based on how people in town would look at her or what they would think. Overall, she did a good job, he supposed.

  He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask if you knew anything about a woman named Charity White.”

  “Is she your date this weekend or something?” The chief’s eyes sparkled.

  “She’s actually my neighbor. I have the impression she has some kind of history here.”

  The chief leaned back in her chair, wrinkling her lips in thought. “Charity White. Of course. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard her name. You said she’s back in town?”

  “She is. What’s her story?”

  “I wasn’t the chief when everything happened. I was working as a deputy over in Beauford, as a matter of fact. But everyone in North Carolina knew about the case. It made national news.”

  National news? Now he was really eager for answers. Was it because he’d moved from the busy metropolitan area of Atlanta
to sleepy little Hertford? He supposed there was a part of him that missed the excitement of the police work he’d done back in Georgia. Hertford wasn’t even close to the same.

  “Charity White and her best friend, Andrea Whitaker—”

  “Whitaker? Any relation to Ron Whitaker?” Ron Whitaker was the former police chief. The town had gone through a string of officers in chief over the past decade. But Joshua had had numerous run-ins with Ron. Though the man was a hothead, he still held an incredible, almost unexplainable influence in the town. Since leaving law enforcement, he’d opened a bar called Kicking Cotton. Trouble always seemed to brew there.

  “Andrea was Ron’s only daughter. Youngest child. Her disappearance is what broke the man. Then he lost his wife two years ago in an auto accident. I don’t like the man, but I feel sorry for him.”

  “That’s a lot of loss.”

  “Anyway, the girls decided to walk home from school. It was cold outside and getting dark, so they cut through the woods in order to shave some distance off their walk.”

  His skin pricked at the foreshadowing of what would happen next.

  “Long story short, a masked man appeared and abducted Andrea. Charity barely got away.”

  “Did anyone ever find Andrea?”

  The chief shook her head. “Never did. To this day, no one has seen her. Of course, we all assume she’s dead. It’s the most logical conclusion. But her family has never been the same.”

  “I can imagine. That would be horrible.” He thought of his own son. His wife had gotten remarried and decided to move out of state. It was one of the reasons he’d moved from big city Atlanta to Hertford: he wanted to be closer to his son, Rider.

  Rider had been the real one who’d lost out in the midst of the problems between Justina and himself. Joshua wasn’t willing to give up his relationship with his son just because he and Justina had problems. Moving here was just one more way of trying to make things right.

  “The whole town felt the loss,” Chief Rollins said.

  “What happened to Charity?”

  “I’m not sure. As soon as she could, she moved away. Went to college. I don’t know if she ever came home again after that. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like she blames herself and thinks everyone else in town does, as well.”