Home Before Dark (Christian Romantic Suspense) (Carolina Moon Book 1) Read online

  Nothing satisfied him. His mind was elsewhere.

  On Vince Torres, actually.

  On a whim, Ryan flipped the TV to a country music station, and there was the man himself. Vince. Talking about Daleigh.

  Ryan frowned as he saw him. Vince was only one of the best record producers in the business. The man had produced so many hits, he’d become legendary in the music field. He’d also gained a reputation as a player, someone who was regular tabloid fodder.

  And he was Daleigh’s boyfriend.

  That meant that Daleigh was off limits to Ryan, even if electricity crackled between them. Even if she took his breath away. Even if she consumed his thoughts like no woman had since Jennifer.

  Besides, even if Vince wasn’t in the picture, why would someone like Daleigh be interested in a simple mechanic? He’d never be able to compete with a man like Vince and would never make enough money to continue in the lifestyle Daleigh probably lived.

  Still, Ryan couldn’t get her sweet smile out of his mind. He never thought he’d be this taken with someone ever again.

  Which only made the brick on his chest feel heavier.

  “Daleigh is an incredible woman, one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet,” Vince told the camera. His dark hair, tanned skin, and black leather jacket made him seem like he should produce rock music instead of country. “She’s got this sensitive spirit that lets her see through to the heart of people. It’s that very spirit that gives her such great insights when she’s writing her songs. Her lyrics make people think that she’s writing about them or their best friend. I’m one lucky man.”

  He was one lucky man, Ryan thought with a frown.

  Ryan kicked off his shoes and went into the kitchen to pour a tall glass of milk. Milk always made everything better. That’s what his mother used to say, at least.

  He walked to the window of the old farmhouse he’d purchased a few years ago. It still needed work. The wallpaper needed to be stripped, new flooring needed to be put down. The windows were bare and the furniture basic. But he had a house. Occasionally, he fiddled with fixing it up. He’d added new kitchen cabinets and repaired the porch. He wanted to make a built-in cabinet for the TV, but he hadn’t quite gotten around to that yet.

  When he’d moved back here four years ago, he and his wife Jennifer had purchased a new house in an upscale subdivision. But only a month after they’d moved here, Ryan had come home and found her dead in their kitchen. A few months later, he’d sold that house and bought this fixer-upper. The old place had too many bad memories.

  Ryan and Jennifer had dated in high school, where they’d been homecoming king and queen, and Ryan had been named “Most Likely to Succeed.” They’d maintained a long-distance relationship when he went off to college at Duke University and Jennifer had stayed to go to beauty school. They’d married after he graduated, and then he’d gotten a job up in New York and dragged his small-town girl up to the big city. She’d hated it. Cried every day until finally he moved back here.

  After she died, Ryan had realized that he didn’t even like his six-figure career in finance, the very career that he’d pushed so hard to achieve. When he’d moved back to Hertford, he’d set up a small office to help people with financial planning. But then Vern had put his garage up for sale, and Ryan had realized just how much he hated working in an office. He had impulsively bought the garage, despite the dropped jaws of disapproval from those around him. He still did financial planning on the side, and that part-time job brought in more money that his full-time work at the garage. But he’d never regretted his decision to walk away from his old career. Life was too short to live a life that felt unfulfilled.

  He leaned against the window and stared at the woods surrounding his property. Sometimes life took a different course than he anticipated. Sometimes he realized that success wasn’t defined as one might think it would be.

  He’d dragged one girl away from the country and to the city and seen the devastating effects it had on her psyche. Even if Daleigh wasn’t dating Vince, there was no way a relationship between them would work. No, he wouldn’t ask a big city girl to be happy in a small town. Sometimes, he had to accept that people’s desires and needs were different.

  He pulled his gaze away from the woods behind his house and went into his bedroom. Maybe sleep would knock some sense into him.

  ***

  Daleigh sat on the couch, staring at the phone and strangling a tissue to death, wishing it were Vince. She’d shredded it into lint when she remembered the reasons she’d rushed back to the house in the first place—Dad’s journals.

  She stood and hundreds of pieces of tissue snowed down to the floor. Leaving the mess for later, she padded down the hallway in her stocking feet. She stopped outside her dad’s door, lifting up a prayer that she’d find something within his books.

  After drawing in a deep breath, she pushed into his room and rushed toward his bookshelf. She’d spotted those leather-bound books earlier, laying flat on the corner of a shelf, next to tribal figures from Africa.

  She stopped and blinked to clear the fuzziness from her eyes. She had to be imagining things. Maybe she was simply losing it tonight.

  But the space on the shelf sat bare. The books were gone.

  Someone had been in her house. And the thief had stolen the very evidence that would implicate him.

  Chapter Seven

  A long, cold shower the next morning and two coats of cover-up did nothing to hide the dark circles under Daleigh’s eyes.

  What did she expect when she hadn’t gotten any sleep all night?

  After some hesitation, Daleigh had called the police yesterday evening, and they’d sent an officer over. The officer—RJ was his name—had acted like Daleigh was losing her mind when she told him that journals had been stolen. Still, with a cocky little grin, he’d taken a report and practically coddled her the entire time.

  Meanwhile, Hannah had seen the police cruiser out front and rushed over. When she found out what had happened, she was more upset about what the neighbors might be thinking than over the fact that someone had broken into the cottage. Begrudgingly, Daleigh had spent the night over at Hannah’s. Her emotions felt haywire as a mixture of confusion, fear, exhaustion, and foolishness did a do-si-do in her mind.

  She’d gone over to the cottage the next morning to get dressed. With a sigh, she pulled on a baby blue sundress, some brown cowboy boots, and twirled her long hair into a loose twist. Her watch showed she had five minutes before she was to meet Hannah. Her gaze fell on her purse. Her dad’s journal—the only one she still had—was inside. She had to remember to keep that close.

  Now it was time to meet her sister.

  Birds chirped as she stepped into the already warm sunlight. A speedboat raced past on the Perquimans River, the laughter of those on board echoing across the water.

  Today was going to be a better day. It had to be. Could it get much worse than yesterday?

  As she rounded the corner, she spotted Hannah and the gang, standing on the porch. Hannah in her broad-brimmed garden hat, a peachy pink to match her lawn dress, Bruce in a khaki-colored gabardine suit, white shirt and yellow tie. The two kids stood in front of them, decked out in their Sunday best right down to pinafores and Mary Janes. They looked like they’d just come from posing for the cover of Southern Gentility magazine.

  Hannah studied her face as she approached. The closer Daleigh got, the more intense the scrutiny became.

  “You look terrible. Let me guess—someone else broke in last night and stole all of the dish towels? Maybe some canned goods?” Hannah snickered, but her sharp eyes went right to the circles lining Daleigh’s eyes.

  Daleigh bit her tongue. “Very funny.”

  Bruce cleared his throat and jangled his keys. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late.” He motioned for everyone to follow him.

  They climbed into the gold SUV, Daleigh sliding across the butter soft leather seats into the back with the kids
. The engine hummed to life, and they started down the road.

  “I heard you walking around last night. You didn’t sneak out for a secret rendezvous, did you?” Hannah peered into the backseat.

  “No, of course I didn’t. I just couldn’t sleep.”

  “You can stay in the main house with us for as long as you want, you know. We’ve got three extra bedrooms.” Bruce glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

  “I like the cottage. Being there makes me feel close to Dad.”

  “That’s understandable,” Bruce said. “That cottage has a certain charm to it, doesn’t it? We renovated it as close to the original as we could. It used to be the servants’ quarters, you know.”

  “Daleigh’s staying in the servants’ quarters.” Hannah snorted. “It sounds like a Cinderella story if I’ve ever heard one. You let everyone know it was your choice. Your mean ol’ sister didn’t force it on you.”

  “Nothing wrong with being a servant.” Daleigh looked out the window at the countryside. Sometimes Daleigh thought Hannah really wasn’t her sister, that somehow there’d been a mix-up at the hospital. How could two people in the same family be so different?

  “In a way, you’re a servant, honey.” Bruce looked at Hannah. “You serve our family, wait on our girls, do their laundry. It’s not that bad, is it?”

  Hannah narrowed her eyes, the fire glowing there shooting flames at Bruce.

  The girls giggled. “Can we call you servant, Mommy?” Clara asked.

  “Servant,” the two-year-old echoed.

  Hannah’s scowl deepened. The rest of the ride to church was silent. Blissfully silent.

  Yet, somewhere in those blissful moments, reality slithered in, reminding Daleigh that someone had potentially killed her father. None of the mundane moments would let her forget that life-altering fact.

  ***

  The brick church building looked over a century old. A huge steeple stretched toward the sky, complete with a golden bell that chimed as the family flocked through the front doors. Inside, Daleigh noted the intricate dark wood molding, bright red carpet, and well-used wooden pews. That, along with the square stained glass windows that cast colorful shadows, gave the building character and richness. This is where her father’s funeral had taken place. Funny how she’d hardly noticed anything about the place then. No, she’d been too distracted by her pain.

  She sat on the end of a pew, trying to ignore the stares people sent her way. A sign to the right of the stage said last week they’d had seventy-eight people in attendance and fifty-six at Sunday school. To the left, hymn numbers were listed for easy perusal during the service. The happy chatter of attendees wearing their Sunday best mingled with the organ’s prelude.

  How long had it been since Daleigh had been in church? She’d vowed to go every Sunday she was at home in Nashville, but that was becoming less and less frequent. What had she become? A robot? A spineless puppet for others?

  “Good morning.”

  Daleigh’s head jerked up. Ryan grinned at her in a blue button-up shirt and khaki pants. Her heart involuntarily sped.

  “Ryan, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe I ever set foot in church.” He winked, and Daleigh let out a laugh.

  “That’s not what I meant.” She slid across the pew, holding on to her dress hem so it wouldn’t creep up. “Please, have a seat.”

  “An offer I can’t refuse.” Before he could slip into the seat, two elderly women grabbed his arm and kissed his cheek. Daleigh watched as he affectionately returned the gesture, causing the women to beam like high schoolers. Then he lowered himself beside her. His familiar scent teased her senses. And when he turned to look at her, she suddenly wondered what it would feel like if Ryan leaned over and kissed her cheek. She quickly looked away before Ryan could see her blush.

  “How are you today?” he asked, draping his arm behind her.

  She wanted to blurt that someone had broken in and stolen her dad’s notebooks. She’d have to save that for later, when Hannah wasn’t around. “Doing okay.”

  “Mommy’s our servant.” Clara giggled on the other side of Daleigh and received a prompt nudge from Bruce, who’d no doubt hear about his comment later.

  Daleigh hid her grin as a balding man with a full beard approached. She recognized him from the funeral as Pastor Pete.

  “If I’d known you’d still be in town, I would have asked you to grace us with your angelic voice this morning.”

  “That’s kind of you to think of me.” Daleigh smiled to reassure him. “I wasn’t sure how long I’d be around.”

  “If you’re here next Sunday, let me know and I’ll put you in the program. I especially love that song you wrote about Jacob’s ladder. I listen to it whenever I need some encouragement for the journey.” The pastor stepped back as the pianist started pounding the keys. “Really, let me know.”

  He walked away and Clara turned toward her. “Aunt Daleigh, are you going to sing for us?”

  She rubbed her niece’s head. “Not this week.”

  “Next week?”

  “Maybe. We’ll have to see.”

  “You mean, we might actually have you for another week?” Hannah peered at her from the end of the pew. Her voice, though it sounded syrupy sweet, held a touch of subtle condemnation. Hannah’s message was clear to Daleigh: Daleigh wasn’t around enough.

  Daleigh shrugged. “I haven’t decided when I’m going back yet. I need to figure some things out first.”

  The worship service began to the tune of “O, For a Thousand Tongues to Sing.” Daleigh hadn’t sung hymns in at least a decade. Her church in Nashville was contemporary, but she missed these more traditional songs of worship.

  Just hearing the music filled her with pleasant memories of her childhood. Growing up, they’d moved every few years with her father’s job, and it seemed every church they attended used hymns. She hadn’t liked them at the time. They seemed ancient to her. But now that she was older, she realized their lyrics were filled with amazing depth.

  I’m doing a hymn on my next album, she decided. I don’t care what Vince says.

  She tried to push out thoughts of Vince and concentrate on worship. Beside her, Ryan sang out in a nice baritone.

  When was the last time she and Vince had gone to church together? When she was in town, he always seemed to have an excuse. He needed to catch up on his sleep. His musicians had agreed to come in on Sunday to get a head start on a project. He was too exhausted. He didn’t like the church’s style of worship. She could have gone on with the lines he’d rattled off.

  He’d changed from when Daleigh met him five years ago. They hadn’t dated right away. First, they’d been fellow musicians. Then friends. Then two years ago, they decided to give a relationship a try. It was around that time he’d stopped going to church.

  Pay attention, Daleigh, she scolded herself. Here she was, condemning Vince for not going to church, yet she herself had not been going either. She shouldn’t be so quick to cast stones. The process of slipping away from things that were important often happened so gradually that people didn’t realize how far they’d strayed until it was too late.

  Yes, Daleigh still had a lot to learn.

  Suddenly, the skin on the back of her neck bristled at the feeling of unseen eyes boring into her. She slowly glanced over her shoulder. Was someone watching her?

  The sinking feeling in her gut made her think this was more than someone gawking at her out of star-struck curiosity. Alarms were going off in her head. Was her dad’s killer here?

  She tried to shake off the thoughts, but that was easier said than done.

  ***

  After church, Bruce invited Ryan out to lunch with the family. Daleigh had a feeling the invitation had more to do with Bruce getting Ryan’s opinion on a new boat he was trying to purchase than simply being polite. Daleigh was just happy to have Ryan there to distract her from her sister’s dirty looks and snippy comment
ary. Apparently, Ryan usually met his sister for lunch, but today her church was having a pitch-in after services, so Ryan was free.

  They went to a local barbecue restaurant called The Bulkhead. Despite the name, the eatery didn’t sit on water, but instead on the highway outside of town. The building was plain, but the rocking chairs gracing the front porch added a touch of warmth.

  The line was already out the door.

  Hannah said over her shoulder, “The Methodists always beat us here. I declare their pastor cuts the service short just so he doesn’t have to wait in line for Sunday dinner.”

  The parking lot was gravel and every time someone pulled in, the rumbling of tires caused the conversation to halt. The sun in the cloudless sky warmed their shoulders as they took their place behind other families.

  While her sister settled a squabble between the girls, Daleigh turned to Ryan. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he looked into the distance. Did he really have a crush on her? Probably not. Hannah was most likely just running off at the mouth.

  Was this the right time to tell him about what happened last night? She glanced at her sister, who leaned down eye level with the girls. Her sister would be sure to notice a whispered conversation.

  Still, Daleigh couldn’t get it out of her mind. Patience is a virtue, she reminded herself. She’d have to wait until later.

  She drew in a breath and forced her mind onto another subject. “Either this is really good or it’s the only restaurant in town,” Daleigh said, pointing at the throngs of people outside.

  Ryan chuckled. “It’s really good. The Bulkhead’s pulled pork draws people from as far north as Richmond. And their hush puppies have been known to make grown men weep. I myself shed tears during dinner.”

  “I don’t know.” Daleigh smiled, glad Ryan was there to ease the tension between her and Hannah. “I’ve spent a lot of time in Nashville, which supposedly has some of the best barbecue in the south.”

  “Taste this and you’ll change your mind.”