Ryan’s lean form adjusted something underneath a minivan, while a radio blared George Strait in the background.
“Good music selection,” Daleigh said. She crossed her arms and stepped closer, her boots clicking on the cement floor.
The wrench Ryan held clanged to the ground as he turned with a little jump. His gaze rested on Daleigh. He laughed airily, as he reached for the radio and turned it down.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t scare me. I just didn’t hear you come in.” He grabbed a rag and wiped his hands as he approached her. “Is everything okay with your car? You’re not having more problems, are you?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that.” Daleigh bit the inside of her lip. “It’s actually about my dad. You mentioned that you knew him, and I was hoping I might ask you a few questions. If you’re not busy. I understand if you are. It’s just that—”
“Okay.”
“I really need—” Daleigh paused and stared at him, used to Vince’s excuses. “What did you say?”
He grinned and wiped his hands again. “I said okay. I was fixing to quit for the day anyhow. Let me just close things down here, and I’ll be right out.”
Daleigh returned his grin. “Thanks.”
She watched as he secured the cars, turned off machines, and locked the office. Her gaze scanned the place. The garage was actually pretty organized with tools hanging neatly in place, the floors scrubbed, and everything well taken care of. “Can I help with anything?”
He scrubbed his hands and arms at a nearby sink. “No, I’m good. Listen, I don’t usually bring extra clothes to work, and I know I must smell like a grease monkey. I can run past my house and change real quick if it bothers you.”
Daleigh’s heart warmed at his consideration. “No, I don’t mind the smell.”
He turned off the water and tore several paper towels from the nearby dispenser. “If you’re sure.”
A moment later he was by her side. He’d taken off his grease-stained coverall and just wore the white T-shirt underneath with navy blue pants. They stepped out of the garage and a cool, spring breeze wrapped itself around Daleigh. The garage door clanked and groaned all the way to the ground before jerking to a halt.
“I’ll let you pick the place, since I have no idea what’s around here.” Daleigh fell into step beside him.
“There’s the Have a Nice Day café down the street. Mildred serves up a mean cup of coffee, loaded with chicory if you want it, and cream fresh from the farm, not those little plastic cups of fake stuff.”
Daleigh smiled. “Sounds great.”
The sky was dim now, only a hint of sunlight left. In the distance, crickets sang their soothing songs, and the sound of distant laughter floated through the air.
“Beautiful night, huh?” Ryan asked. He walked at an easy gait, with relaxed strides.
“It’s gorgeous.” She pulled her arms across her chest and cleared her throat. “So, have you always lived here?”
“Born and raised.”
“You must like it, huh? To stick around for so long.”
“You calling me old, sugar?” Ryan put on an exaggerated southern accent.
Daleigh paused, wondering how to respond, when she caught the twinkle in Ryan’s eye. Their laughter mingled with the springtime breeze.
Speaking normally now, with only a soft lilt in his voice, he said, “Yeah, I love it here. I left for a few years but came back. I like the slower pace.” He glanced at her. “How about you? You’re in Nashville, right? I guess you’re there for good?”
“That’s the plan.” She remembered the conversation she’d just had with Vince about her rocky career. “That was the plan, at least.”
“You starting to change your mind?”
Daleigh strolled along quietly. The evening breeze tickled her hair across her cheek as she wondered why she’d wasted two years of her life on a man who didn’t love her. “I don’t exactly have a steady lifestyle. Always on the go, you know? Touring, recording, video shoots. Who knows what will happen when I actually decide to settle down.”
“We can make all the plans we want, but sometimes the big guy upstairs has a different idea, huh?”
“Absolutely.” Daleigh glanced at his easy profile. “I guess that was one of your nuggets of wisdom my father wrote about.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Nuggets of wisdom?”
“Yeah, my father wrote in a journal that he enjoyed your insights and the daily talks you shared.” Heaviness pressed on her. The journal was why she was here right now. It was why she thought her father may have been killed. All the lighthearted conversation in the world wouldn’t change that.
“Well, I’m honored he would mention me. That’s quite a compliment.”
They stopped at one of the storefronts, and Ryan pulled open the door. A country café with the sign Have a Nice Day painted on the front door greeted them, complete with ruffly yellow curtains and an assortment of knickknacks scattered about, all covered with smiley faces.
Silverware clinked, and a small crowd sat scattered at about twenty square tables and booths, beating the evening rush. The twenty or so people in the café all turned to stare at them for a second, then went back to their meals.
Ryan put his hand at Daleigh’s elbow and directed her to a corner booth, covered in black vinyl. Daleigh slid into the seat with the quick zipping sound of denim against plastic. Her muscles relaxed against the worn cushions.
“Hey, Ryan.” No sooner had they been seated than did a gray-haired waitress appear with pad in hand. The stout lady turned to Daleigh. “I was sure sorry to hear about your daddy, Daleigh. He was a fine man. A lousy tipper, but even so I’ll miss him.”
Daleigh bit back a smile. She remembered that her dad had been a terrible tipper. A quarter was good enough for his father and it was good enough for him. “Thank you.”
“What can I get for you?”
“Just coffee, please, Mildred,” Ryan said.
“Same for me.”
“It’s got chicory in it.” Mildred looked up from writing on her pad. “I can make a pot of regular if you’re not used to the flavor.”
“No, chicory is fine.”
“Well, load it up with cream and sugar if it’s too strong. Two coffees coming right up.” She bustled behind the counter that stretched down the whole side of the café.
A gray-haired man, sitting at a table full of men, yelled, “More coffee here too, Mildred.”
“Hold your horses, Harv. I’ll bring the pot with me when I come.”
The café murmured with soft conversations and somewhere, on a tinny radio station, Shania Twain promised to “Getcha Good.”
Daleigh glanced across the table at Ryan. He nestled himself in the corner of the booth with an arm stretched across the back of the bench. He looked totally at ease as his gaze wandered the café. A moment of envy shot through Daleigh. Ryan belonged, something she’d never done.
“I guess you’re probably wondering why I wanted to talk,” Daleigh started.
“I assumed it was because of my impeccable good looks.” He winked and Daleigh chuckled.
Her smile dimmed. “It’s actually because of my dad.”
The waitress set two bright yellow mugs of coffee on the table. Ryan’s was chipped and hers wasn’t, which must make her a VIP around here.
“Thanks.” Ryan drank his black, while Daleigh poured a generous serving of cream out of a ceramic pitcher shaped like a Holstein cow. The cream poured out of the cow’s mouth, and Daleigh busied herself with stirring, watching the black and white swirl together. After tapping her spoon gently on the side of the mug, she placed it on the saucer.
Stop procrastinating and talk. Daleigh raised her eyes to Ryan’s. “What was my dad like in the days before he died?” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction, his response.
Ryan cocked his head sideways, obviously surprised by the question. “Before he died?” He squinte
d, as if trying to make the past come into focus. “He was just your dad, same as always. Still stopped by to visit with me.”
“Was there anything different about him?”
He caught her gaze. “He seemed like himself. I mean, I don’t remember anything strange. Should I?”
Daleigh took a long sip, and the chicory nearly burned her tongue. She coughed, almost spilling her coffee in the process.
With a broad grin, Ryan pushed the cow toward her.
Daleigh grabbed it and poured. “I’m not sure. It’s only a theory.”
Should she tell him about the journal? Her instincts told her she could trust him.
She pulled her purse in front of her and took out the notebook. Her thumb stroked the brown leather cover.
“I found this stuffed between my dad’s mattress and box spring. It might be nothing, but I can’t help but be concerned.”
He started to reach for it. “May I?”
Daleigh nodded and handed it to him. She watched as he studied the pages, flipping back and forth between them.
Finally, he lowered the notebook. “It sounds like he was studying someone who didn’t want to be studied.”
Daleigh leaned forward, anxious not to be overheard in the crowded diner. “What if his death wasn’t an accident?” The words hung in the air, and Daleigh wished she could take them back.
“Have you gone to the police?”
They fell silent as Mildred offered them more coffee and a few words of local gossip. As soon as she left and Daleigh’s coffee was turned nearly white with cream, Daleigh leaned on her elbows, closing the distance between them.
“I talked to Chief Rollins today. She said she would look into it. But the town hasn’t had a murder in years. She’s got no experience as a detective. I don’t have very much hope that she’ll find anything. I don’t think she wants to find anything.”
“The town prides itself in being safe. I’m sure the chief doesn’t want to stir suspicions if she doesn’t have to.”
Daleigh glanced at him sharply, pondering his words.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m just saying this is the type of town where everyone wants to raise a family. Something like murder would really shake people up.”
Daleigh played with the napkin in front of her, tearing off small pieces. “I don’t know what to do. I’m really worried that there was foul play involved. And if there is a killer out there, the only way the town will be safe is if he’s caught.”
“You should leave it to the police. What if he was murdered? You don’t want to get mixed up with the people involved.” Ryan no longer lounged against the booth. His muscles looked rigid and his lips had hardened into a firm, straight line as he leaned toward her.
“But what if the police don’t do anything? Do I let the person who killed my father walk away? That’s not justice.”
He reached across the table and his calloused hand brushed hers. A shot of electricity rushed up her arm.
His gaze caught hers in a way that made her wonder if he’d felt it too. “Sometimes things are out of our hands.”
She looked at his hands resting on the table—the hands of a hardworking man who wasn’t afraid to get dirty. He was the kind of man she wrote songs about, and talking with him had eased her mind. At the same time, she’d decided more firmly she couldn’t let this drop.
“I think he left the journal in hopes someone would find it. It’s not like him to write about his personal life. He could write books on other people, but never himself. And the fact that he hid this specific journal just makes me think something was wrong. Like this was his final plea in case something did happen to him.”
Concerned, he leaned forward. “What are you thinking about doing?”
“I was hoping to find out where he’d been lately. What he’d been doing. Who he’d been watching.”
Ryan frowned, lost in thought. “I know he went out on his rowboat quite a bit. He was fascinated with this area and its history. Do you think he stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have?”
Daleigh shrugged. “It’s a place to start, I guess. I’ve searched his library, but I’ll go home and look through the rest of his journals. Perhaps they’ll give me some kind of clue.”
Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier? Suddenly, she could hardly sit still. She felt sure that was where the answer was. She stood, opening her purse to find her wallet. “I’m going to do that right now, actually. I hate to cut coffee short, but I have to find out. I don’t know why . . .”
Ryan dropped some bills on the table. “Coffee’s on me.”
“Thank you.”
“You bet.” Ryan waved at Mildred and a few others as he walked beside Daleigh out of the café.
Mildred hollered, “Have a nice day, y’all.”
“You too, Mildred.” Ryan pulled the door open for Daleigh, and the bell hanging over the door tinkled as they went out.
A moment later they walked side by side toward her cottage. The sun had almost completely disappeared from the sky. The wind had picked up and dark branches slapped together overhead, drowning out the crickets. The trees seemed to bend down, reaching long, skeletal fingers toward them as they walked briskly down the street.
Daleigh loved the Victorian houses on the three-block walk from her sister’s house to downtown. But today they were a blur, as Daleigh rushed toward her father’s home. Ryan somehow managed to keep up with her frantic pace.
“You don’t have to come.” She tensed, afraid he’d say goodbye like any normal person might. She wanted nothing more than for him to stay at her side, like his presence was the only thing preventing her from coming unraveled.
He shrugged. “I’m curious. Besides, you’re on my way . . . and if you’re right, you shouldn’t be doing this by yourself.”
“I’ve always hated getting home after dark. That was always my dad’s rule, for that matter. Be home before dark. Nothing good ever happens at night.”
“Not bad advice.”
She glanced up at him. “Even around here?”
“Even small towns have their secrets.” They walked a few more paces. “Is that where you got the inspiration for your song?”
“‘Home Before Dark’?” Her one song that had made it onto Billboard’s Top Ten. “It sure is.”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
She cast him a smile. “Thanks.”
“For the record, I really like ‘Daddy’s Girl’ also. I know it must have been hard to sing at the funeral, but you did a great job. I think your dad was smiling down at you from heaven.”
Her sister’s house came into view. Dad’s little bungalow in Hannah’s backyard was visible. Hannah’s lights were on and two cars sat in the driveway. Bruce was home, a near miracle for a surgeon.
They walked down the cobblestone sidewalk her sister had installed to go with the time period of the house. Both houses had been a mess when Bruce and Hannah purchased them five years ago. Her sister had renovated them and turned them into beauties.
Daleigh felt good having Ryan with her. She trusted him more after two days than she had ever trusted Vince. Was it the vulnerability of her dad’s death or just that Ryan listened? Whatever the reason, she was grateful for his presence.
She stopped in her tracks at the porch. Her throat went bone dry.
“Everything okay?” Ryan asked.
She pointed toward a window cracked partially open. Fear rippled through her bones.
“I didn’t leave that open,” she whispered.
Chapter Five
Ryan reached for her keys.
“Let me check it out for you.” All trace of southern gentleman vanished as he pulled the keys out of Daleigh’s hands without waiting for her to let go. “Wait here.”
Ryan slipped the key into the lock and slowly nudged the door open.
“Be careful,” she whispered, unsure if he’d even heard her.
With a quick nod over his shoulder, he disap
peared inside the house. A light popped on, and Daleigh strained to see inside. The sheer curtains made it impossible.
She listened. The wind chimes sang merrily above her. She resisted the urge to yank them down, afraid they would mask the sound of a struggle. What was taking him so long? The cottage wasn’t that big.
Just then, Ryan appeared in the doorway. “Everything looks okay. You sure you didn’t leave the window up?”
“Positive.” She stepped onto the porch.
“Maybe your sister came over and opened it while you were gone.”
It was a possibility.
He took a step closer. “Either way, there’s no one here now. You should be fine inside.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief. She was so thankful Ryan had been with her tonight. A smile pulled across her lips. “I guess I owe you two now, huh?”
“You don’t owe me anything, Daleigh.”
The sincerity in his voice caused tingles to run up her spine. Men that were both sweet and hunky didn’t come around every day.
“Hey, Daleigh, we’re having some cake—” Hannah stepped around the corner and faltered. Her eyes widened as she looked back and forth from Daleigh to Ryan. She batted her eyelids in mock innocence. “I didn’t realize you had company. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Daleigh suspected that Hannah knew exactly what she was doing. “You’re fine.”
“We’re just having some of the pie left over from Dad’s funeral.” Hannah ran her hand over her ash-blonde curls. Of course, not a hair was out of place. “There’s so much food I don’t know what to do with it. What do you say? Ryan, you can come too.”
They looked at each other. Daleigh knew there was no way to get out of it, but if Ryan went with her, she could make her escape a lot sooner. Her eyes met his, a virtual stranger, yet she felt like she’d known him longer. “I’ll go if you do,” she offered.
He held up his hands in surrender. “I guess I’m coming then. I’d hate to become the source of a family feud.”
They all shared a chuckle and started toward the main house. Ryan had understood her need for his company. An easy silence fell between them.
Home Before Dark (Christian Romantic Suspense) (Carolina Moon Book 1) Page 4
