Home Before Dark (Christian Romantic Suspense) (Carolina Moon Book 1) Page 8

  He grinned. “It’s true. I used to don a business suit—an expensive one, at that—every day. Lived in a nice little apartment. Ate at fancy restaurants. You name it.”

  “Well, you just surprise me more and more all the time, Ryan Shields. I would have never guessed. What did you do in New York?”

  His grin widened, revealing an adorable dimple in his cheek. “You’ll never guess.”

  She settled back in her seat, up for the challenge. “You were an actor part-time, a waiter full-time?”

  He laughed. “No, no. There’s not a creative bone in my body.”

  “You owned a garage?”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay, but this is my last guess. You were a news correspondent on The Today Show?”

  “I was wondering when you’d finally recognize me from that interview I did with you way back when.” His eyes sparkled. “No, I was actually a stockbroker.” He cast a side-glance her way. “I know what your next question is going to be. Why am I a mechanic now?”

  “You embezzled money? A ponzi scheme? You’re bad with numbers?”

  “No, no. Nothing quite like that. I just had some things happen in my life that made me realize that life is too short to live someone else’s dream for you. I was the hometown boy who did well for himself. I’d made everyone proud here at home. But I’d lost a lot of my joy in life. I didn’t enjoy what I was doing, and I knew something had to change.”

  “So you moved back home and traded your business suit for coveralls?” Her voice didn’t hold any condemnation, just curiosity. “You’re quite the man, Ryan.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’ve been called a lot of things since I made the decision, and most of them aren’t admirable. But I’m doing okay. I still play around with my investments. I’m doing what I love by working on cars. It’s not a bad life.”

  “I really admire someone who follows their dreams, no matter what other people’s opinions might be.”

  He cast her another glance. “I guess you know a thing or two about following your dreams. Look at you.”

  They pulled up to the university. Daleigh was glad she had an excuse for changing the subject. Her dreams had both thrilled her and disappointed her, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about those highs and lows now, especially when everything in her life felt like it was in flux. Listening to Ryan talk about himself was much more interesting.

  She pointed to a sign in the grass beside them. “It looks like my dad’s building is to the left.”

  A few minutes later, they’d parked and walked in comfortable companionship toward the red brick building that had been like a second home to her father. Daleigh tugged at the tinted-glass door and was surprised when it opened.

  She stepped inside, Ryan behind her, and found a directory on the wall. They started down the carpeted hallway until they found the Department of Sociology. A couple of paces later, she spotted her dad’s nameplate on a door. Her throat went dry as she paused there.

  “You sure you want to do this?”

  She stared at the door another moment before nodding resolutely. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Her hand went to the handle and she twisted. It was locked. She sighed and took a step back. “I should have known. It looks like all of this was for nothing.”

  “Can I help you?”

  Daleigh turned her head toward the voice. A woman in her late twenties stood down the hallway, a computer tablet in hand. She stepped toward them, her sneaker-clad feet nearly soundless on the low-pile carpet. Daleigh soaked in her sloppy ponytail, oversized glasses, and university sweatshirt. She looked vaguely familiar, though Daleigh couldn’t figure out why.

  “I was hoping to see my father’s office.”

  The woman blinked and leaned closer toward Daleigh. “You’re Daleigh McDermott. I love your music. Huge fan.”

  “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “Your father used to always talk about you. He was so proud. He even bought us all one of your CDs for Christmas.”

  “He was a wonderful father.” Her throat clenched at the word was. Reality still hadn’t completely sunk in.

  The woman pushed her glasses up higher. “I was your father’s graduate assistant. I’m so sorry to hear about his passing. None of us have gotten over it here at the university. It’s been quite a shock.”

  “You were at his funeral, weren’t you?” That’s where Daleigh had seen her.

  The woman nodded. “That’s right. I’m Patricia Davis.” She pointed toward the door. “I can get you in, if you want.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, that would be perfect.”

  Patricia pulled out some keys from her pocket and jangled them for a moment before finding the right one. The next instant, she’d slipped the door open. Daleigh’s heart went to her throat as her father’s office came into view. Piles of papers littered his desk. Pictures plastered the shelves against one wall. Artifacts and trinkets from his time in other countries filled every other available space. It looked just like her father.

  Patricia cleared her throat. “I was going to try and pack up some of his things for you. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. It will make his passing seem too . . . too real, I guess.”

  Daleigh lowered herself into his desk chair, her heart clutched with familiar grief again. She understood Patricia’s words all too well. The last thing Daleigh wanted was to erase the evidence of his life. Part of her wanted to leave everything—his cottage and his office—the way it was.

  She glanced back up at her father’s grad assistant. “What was he researching, Patricia? Did he have any big projects going on?”

  Patricia leaned against the doorframe and hugged her computer tablet to her chest. “He was studying the effects of government assistance on a person’s likelihood of becoming independent and successful in modern society.”

  Daleigh nodded slowly as she processed her words. “Wow. Did that make anyone mad?”

  “He was about to publish a report in a national journal. It had caused somewhat of a stir. He released some of his preliminary results early via one of his colleague’s blogs, and he created a bit of backlash.”

  Ryan stepped forward. “From whom?”

  “Mostly from people who got government assistance, I suppose. There are some organizations that get government funding for their programs to help the poor. Your dad’s results showed that there’s some truth to the old saying that you should teach someone to fish rather than giving them a fish.”

  Daleigh nodded. “Could I get some names from you?”

  “Sure thing. Are you thinking about finishing your father’s research?” Patricia waited, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  Daleigh shook her head. “Not exactly. I’m just doing some research of my own. Is there anyone else who hadn’t seen eye to eye with him lately? Or who might want to hurt him for some reason?”

  Patricia gasped, nearly dropping her computer in the process. Her hand went to the wall to steady herself. “You think someone hurt him?”

  “I don’t know anything for sure. There have just been some suspicious things going on. I’m trying to get to the bottom of everything.”

  Patricia pulled her arms across her chest and looked off into space for a moment. Were those tears filling the woman’s eyes? The moisture disappeared as quickly as it materialized. “There was one student whom your father had expelled. He had been cheating. He copied a research paper from another student, not thinking that your father would catch it. Of course your father caught it. He had a brain like a computer.”

  “That was reason enough for expulsion?” Daleigh asked.

  Patricia nodded. “He’d been in other trouble. That was just the tip of the iceberg, as the saying goes.”

  Daleigh picked up some nesting figures from a shelf and ran her hand over the wood. “Could I get his name also?”

  “Absolutely. Anything I can do to help.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look around a b
it.” She put the figure back where she’d found it, trying to grasp where to even start here.

  “Of course. I’ll just be down the hallway. There are some things you can’t take with you. You know, papers that are confidential . . .”

  Daleigh nodded. “I understand. I just want to look at his personal items.”

  As Patricia wandered back into the hallway, Daleigh turned toward the desk. She picked up a picture of her and her father, tracing the outline of his smile as she fought tears.

  “That’s a great picture,” Ryan said. He stood behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

  Daleigh nodded. “He came up to a concert I did in Philadelphia. I was opening for Lily Parsons. I was so nervous I thought I was going to pass out.”

  “You get nervous?”

  “Not as bad as I used to, but I still do get a little nervous. I think having a minor case of the nerves helps to keep you more focused, though. But my dad showed up before the concert and reminded me that even if I stunk he’d still love me. There are not many people I can say that about.”

  “Certainly there are a lot of people in your life who’d still be there for you, even if you weren’t successful.”

  She glanced up at him. “You might be surprised. Fame is fickle. Friendships gained through fame are even more fickle.”

  “To look at you from the outside, most people would think that you had everything.”

  “To really know me, you’d realize I don’t have very much at all.” She cleared her throat, not intending to say as much as she had. She shook her head and grabbed a paper. “Anyway, I don’t know what I’m expecting to find. Talking to Patricia certainly helped.”

  “Keep turning stones over and eventually you’ll find something underneath one.”

  Daleigh looked up at him and nodded. “That’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

  ***

  Ryan wished he knew Daleigh better. As she sat in her father’s chair, she looked so small and tiny, like someone who could use a friendly hug.

  He had to remind himself to keep his distance. The woman had a boyfriend. She lived another state over. And she was way out of his league.

  Still, something about her seemed so familiar, so comfortable. He felt like they’d known each other years, not mere days.

  When she talked about not having anyone who loved her for who she was, a strange protective instinct had risen from deep within. Instead, Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets and gave her space.

  What about Vince? Did she include Vince in the group of people whose loyalty was uncertain? Because she deserved better than that. She deserved someone who’d be by her side always.

  Speaking of which, why hadn’t Vince come to the funeral? Why was Daleigh here all alone? Those questions weren’t his to ask, no matter how badly he might want to.

  Daleigh shook her head and pushed another drawer shut. “Let me get those names from Patricia and we can go. I don’t know what else there is to do here.”

  “As you wish.”

  She stood and grabbed a picture from the shelf. “I think I’ll take this with me.”

  Ryan glanced over her shoulder at the photo. It showed Daleigh and her dad laughing with the jungle behind them. “That’s a great snapshot.”

  Daleigh smiled sadly and traced the outline of her father. “Brazil. He was telling stories to a group of street children who liked to stop by our house. That’s just one more reason my dad and I were so close. We both liked to tell stories, only I tell mine through song.” She pointed to the photo. “He had me help him act this particular tale out. I think it was about an African witchdoctor who accidentally ate fermented berries.”

  “Where’s Hannah? Why didn’t she help?”

  Daleigh frowned. “She was inside cleaning, if I remember correctly. Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t that we didn’t want her out there. It was just that she always insisted on taking care of the details along the way.”

  “Sounds like a modern day Mary and Martha.”

  Daleigh frowned again. “I guess in some ways it was.” She shrugged. “I’ve always felt like she was a bit of a martyr. She’s always thought I was a bit irresponsible. I suppose there’s a place we could meet in the middle; we just haven’t ever been able to find it.”

  They found Patricia in a chair in the hallway. As soon as the student spotted them, she thrust a piece of paper in Daleigh’s hand. “Here are the names. The student who was expelled, Danny Harris, works at a bakery here in town. You might have a better chance of catching him there than by phone. I put my contact information on there, too. If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”

  Daleigh nodded, hair from her twist beginning to escape. The look softened her features. Ryan’s throat tightened. The woman was beautiful, inside and out.

  “I will, Patricia.” Daleigh glanced at the paper. “And thanks for your help. I really appreciate it. Maybe we could meet sometime to go through my father’s things together.”

  She nodded. “Just give me a call. Having you here would make it a lot easier.”

  Ryan put his hand on Daleigh’s back and led her toward the outside door. His thoughts wandered through all they’d learned—and hadn’t learned—today. “Did you ever consider that your dad may have had a lady friend?”

  Daleigh looked up at him, her eyes wide. “A lady friend?”

  “Yeah, you know, a girlfriend.”

  Daleigh’s smile slipped away. “I would think he’d tell me.”

  “Patricia just seemed to have a deeper sense of grief than I expected.”

  “You think my dad was dating his graduate assistant? I’m sure that’s against the rules, which doesn’t sound like my dad at all.”

  He raised his hands. “I’m not saying anything. But it’s something you might want to consider.”

  “I’d really like to consider a piece of chocolate cake right now. My treat. You game?”

  “Let me guess—at Danny Harris’s place of employment?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “If eating cake with you is the sacrifice I’ll have to make, then I guess a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”

  She giggled. “You’re funny, Ryan. I like that.”

  He swallowed, willing himself not to blush. Why did she have that effect on him? Why did he more than anything want to hear her giggle and to see her smile?

  This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

  Somehow, someway, he had to get Daleigh McDermott out of his mind.

  After they had cake.

  Chapter Ten

  Daleigh took another bite of decadent double-chocolate cake and glanced at the college boy working behind the counter. His nametag read DANNY. Every once in a while, he glanced over at her, too. Did he recognize Daleigh?

  Danny looked bored, but not crazy. Not like the type who might kill a professor over having him expelled. But were people’s motives ever that easy to identify? Or were some people masters at disguising their true intentions?

  She glanced over at Ryan. He seemed like the real deal, like there was nothing fake about him. She had the strange desire to explain to him that she’d broken up with Vince. But the idea was crazy. Why would she share that information with him? Why should he care? Besides, just because they were hanging out didn’t mean she owed him any explanation.

  She wiped her mouth with a crisp paper napkin when Danny disappeared into the back of the bakery. “How’d you and my father meet?”

  “We struck up a conversation at church one day and discovered we both liked to fish. I lost my own father when I was a boy, so it was nice to have someone like your dad to chat with. In return, he used to ask my advice on his investments and retirement fund. We used to have a good time. He was a great man.”

  “My dad took up fishing, huh? That’s funny. I’ve never known him to fish, but I can see him doing it.”

  “You ever fish?”

  She pointed to herself.
“Me? No. I’m not into fishing, I guess you could say. I’ve never even tried.”

  “Now that’s a shame. I’ll have to take you before you leave. I’ll show you your father’s favorite spot.”

  She felt her lips curl up in a smile. “I’d like that.”

  Just then Danny approached the table. The clean-cut boy had neat brown hair, but wore a scowl across his otherwise even features. “You want a refill on your coffee?” He held a pot in his hands and frowned.

  Daleigh nudged her cup forward. “I’ll take some.” She felt like a coffee addict sometimes, especially when she had all-night writing sessions or when they recorded into the wee hours of the morning.

  Danny paused after filling her cup. “Do I know you?”

  Daleigh shrugged. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “Do you attend the university?”

  “No, but God bless you for thinking I’m that young. Maybe you knew my father. He taught there.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who was he?”

  “Dr. Ray McDermott.”

  The boy’s face went pale and any hint of friendliness disappeared as he stiffened. “Yeah, I know your dad.”

  “You must not have been a fan of sociology,” Daleigh continued, trying to keep him talking.

  He took a step away, pausing only long enough to shrug. “I don’t know about that. Your dad just had it in for me.”

  “Why would you say that? I don’t think I’ve known my father to have it in for anyone.”

  “Yeah, well, he got me kicked out of school. I’d call that having it in for someone.”

  “You sound angry.”

  He seethed. “Yeah, I’m angry. Look at me now. I’m working this lousy job when I should be getting my degree.”

  “How exactly did he get you kicked out?”

  “He said I cheated.”

  “Did you?”

  Some of the fierceness left his gaze and was replaced with . . . fear? “I just got a little help.”

  “You weren’t the one who threatened my dad, were you?”

  His face became even paler. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve gotta get back to work now before another McDermott gets me fired.”