Die Before Nightfall Read online

  “Running away, Raven?”

  “Not running.” Raven turned away. “Going home.”

  “What is it about me that makes you nervous?” Shane asked. Caught in the spell of sunset, Raven didn’t realize Shane had moved until he was beside her, his hand clasping hers gently. “Stay for a little longer. I promise I won’t talk about princes, frogs, or you.”

  “No, it’s getting dark. I’d better head home.” Raven pulled her hand from his and moved through the overgrown cemetery, leading Merry along beside her. Already dusk was beginning to settle on the land, deep violet shadows creeping across the ground. The effect was eerie, the rustle of leaves and hum of insects only adding to Raven’s unease.

  Her foot caught on a root and she stumbled, barely catching her balance. A twig snapped somewhere to the right and Merry growled low in her throat, lunging toward the sound.

  “Hello?”

  No one answered, nothing moved in the darkness, yet Raven was sure someone was there. She didn’t wait for more. Breath gasping, heart hammering, she raced toward the cottage.

  Books by Shirlee McCoy

  Steeple Hill Trade

  Still Waters #4

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Die Before Nightfall #5

  SHIRLEE MCCOY

  has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of four, Shirlee is a homeschool mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in Maryland and share their house with a dog and a guinea pig.

  SHIRLEE MCCOY

  Die Before Nightfall

  Published by Steeple Hill Books™

  STEEPLE HILL BOOKS

  ISBN 1-55254-356-0

  DIE BEFORE NIGHTFALL

  Copyright © 2005 by Shirlee McCoy

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Steeple Hill Books, used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.SteepleHill.com

  For God will bring every work into judgment,

  including every secret thing, whether good or evil.

  —Ecclesiastes 12:14

  Jude, Caleb, Seth and Emma Grace, if God lined up all the children in the world and let me choose any four, I would choose the four of you. And if you had dirty faces, messy clothes and were whining and crying, I would still choose you. I love you. All the way to the sun and back. Always. No matter what.

  A special thank-you to Sara Parker, who read my first, second, third and fourth drafts without flinching, and who offered countless suggestions and advice. And to my editor, Krista Stroever, who walked me through the publication process with grace, humor and an unerring eye for detail. Thanks! This book is much better because of you.

  In loving memory of Tony Trainer.

  Sixty years wasn’t nearly long enough.

  Dear Reader,

  Life is filled with ups, downs, twists and turns. That’s not a bad thing when you like roller coasters. But if you’re like me and enjoy the more placid rides, sudden changes in direction can be disconcerting. A lost job, a lost love, illness or death in the family—when we experience those things, it can be hard to remember that God knows every bump and turn our lives will take and that He’s with us through them all, steering us forward, urging us on, quietly whispering to our souls that everything will be all right.

  Raven Stevenson’s life is a roller-coaster ride, and she’s ready for it to stop. That means taking a break from her job as a home health-care nurse and moving to Lakeview, Virginia, to reconnect with a brother she hasn’t seen in twenty years. She hopes she’ll have time to think and to reassess the direction her life has taken. Instead she gets pulled into the lives of Abby and Shane Montgomery—an elderly women suffering from dementia and the nephew who is determined to care for her. Together the three of them must confront the past and uncover a secret that just might destroy them all. Only in doing so can they learn the true meaning of God’s grace and love for them.

  I hope you enjoy taking part in their adventure. If you have the time, drop me a line. I can be reached by mail at 1121 Annapolis Road, PMB 244, Odenton, Maryland, 21113-1633. Or by e-mail at [email protected].

  May God richly bless your life.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  COMING NEXT MONTH

  Chapter One

  She’d never hung wash out to dry, but that wouldn’t keep her from trying. Raven Stevenson eyed the basket of sopping white sheets and the small bucket of clothespins sitting at her feet.

  How hard could it be?

  Five minutes later she’d managed to trample one sheet into the mud. The other two were hanging, lopsided and drooping, from the line.

  “It could be worse, I suppose.”

  “Could be better, too.” A pie in one hand, a grocery bag in the other, Nora Freedman came around the side of the house, her eyes lined with laughter. “Never had to dry laundry the old-fashioned way, I see.”

  “I’m afraid not. Hopefully it won’t take me long to get better at it.”

  “It won’t. And I give you credit for even trying. You wouldn’t believe how many renters have turned down this property just because I don’t have a clothes dryer.”

  “Their loss. My gain.”

  Nora beamed at the words, her deep brown eyes glowing with pleasure. “I knew the minute I saw you, you were the person for this place. I’ve been praying about it, mind you. So it didn’t surprise me when Glenda called and said she might have a renter. Here, I’ve brought you a welcome gift. Pecan pie and some things to stock your cupboards.”

  “You didn’t have to—”

  “Of course I didn’t. I wanted to. I’ll leave everything in the kitchen. Gotta scoot. Prayer meeting in a half hour. Call me if you need something.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “See you at church Sunday? You did say you planned to attend G
race Christian?”

  The nerves that Raven had held at bay for a week clawed at her stomach. “Yes. I’ll see you then.”

  “I knew it. Just knew this would work out.” Then Nora was gone as quickly as she’d come, her squat, square figure disappearing around the corner of the house.

  In the wake of her departure, the morning silence seemed almost deafening. Humming a tune to block out the emptiness, Raven bent to lift the dirty sheet and caught sight of a strange print in the barren, muddy earth. A footprint—each toe clearly defined, the arch and heel obvious. Small, but not a child’s foot. Someone had walked barefoot through the yard, despite the lingering winter chill from the damp spring morning.

  Who? Why? Raven searched for another print and found one at the edge of the lawn. From there, a narrow footpath meandered through sparse trees, the prints obvious on earth still wet from last night’s rain. She followed the path until it widened and Smith Mountain Lake appeared, vast and blue, the water barely rippling. There, on a rickety dock that jutted toward the center of the lake, was her quarry—white hair, white skin, a bathing suit covering a thin back.

  Raven hurried forward. “Are you all right?”

  “Thea?” The woman turned, wispy hair settling in a cloud around a face lined with age. “I’ve been waiting forever. Didn’t we agree to meet at ten?”

  Ten? It was past noon. Two hours was a long time to sit half clad in a chilly breeze. Raven’s concern grew, the nurse in her cataloguing what she saw: pale skin, goose bumps, a slight tremor. “Actually, I’m Raven. I live in the cottage up the hill.”

  “Not Thea’s cottage? She didn’t tell me she had guests.”

  “She probably forgot. Were you planning a swim?”

  “Thea and I always swim at this time of year. Though usually it’s not quite so cold.”

  “It is chilly today. Here, put this on.” Raven slid out of her jacket and placed it around the woman’s shoulders.

  “Do I know you?”

  “No, we haven’t met. I’m Raven Stevenson.”

  “I’m Abigail Montgomery. Abby to my friends.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Abby. Would you like to join me for tea? I’ve got a wonderful chamomile up at the house.” Raven held out her hand and was relieved when Abby allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

  “Chamomile? It’s been years since I had that.”

  “Then let’s go.” Raven linked her arm through Abby’s and led her toward the footpath, grimacing as she caught sight of her companion’s feet. Torn and dirty, they looked painful and swollen. Another walk through the brambles would only make things worse. “It looks like you’ve forgotten your shoes.”

  Abby glanced down at her feet, confusion drawing her brows together. Then she looked at Raven, and behind her eyes past gave way to present. Raven had seen it many times, knew the moment Abby realized what had happened. She waited a beat, watching as the frail, vague woman transformed into someone else, stronger and much more aware.

  “I’ve done it again, haven’t I.” The words were firm but Abby’s eyes betrayed her fear.

  “Nothing so bad. Just a walk to the lake.”

  “Dressed in a bathing suit? In…” Her voice trailed off, confusion marring her face once again.

  “It’s April. A lovely day, but a bit too cold for a swim.”

  “What was I thinking?” Frustration and despair laced the words.

  “You were thinking about summer. Perhaps a summer long ago.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “My name is Raven. I live up the hill at the Freedman cottage.”

  “Raven. A blackbird. Common. You’re more the exotic type, I’d think, with that wild hair and flowing dress.”

  Raven laughed in agreement. “I’ve been fighting my name my entire life. You’re the first to notice.”

  “Am I? Then I guess I’m not as far gone as I’d thought.” Despite the brave words, the tears behind Abby’s eyes were obvious, the slight trembling of her jaw giving away her emotions.

  Raven let her have the moment, watched as she took a deep shuddering breath and glanced down at her bathing suit.

  “I suppose it could be worse. At least I wore clothes this time. Now, tell me, where are we headed?”

  “To the cottage for tea.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  “Here, slip my shoes on first.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. What about you?”

  “I’ve got tough skin.” Raven slid her feet out of open-heeled sneakers and knelt to help Abby put them on. “They’re a bit big, but we’ll have your own for you in no time at all.”

  They made their way up the steep incline, Raven’s hand steady against Abby’s arm. It hurt to know that the woman beside her was being consumed by a disease that would steal her vitality and leave nothing behind but an empty shell. Why? It was a question she asked often in her job as a geriatric nurse. There was no answer. At least none that she could find, no matter how hard she prayed for understanding.

  “Sometimes it just doesn’t happen the way we want.”

  “What?” Startled, Raven glanced at Abby.

  “Life. It doesn’t always work out the way we want it to. Sad, really. Don’t you think?”

  Yes. Yes, she did think it was sad—her own life a sorry testament to the way things could go wrong. Raven wouldn’t say as much. Not to Abby with her stiff spine and desperate eyes. Not to anyone. “It can be, yes. But usually good comes from our struggles.”

  “And just what good will come of me losing my marbles, I’d like to know?”

  “We’ve met each other. That’s one good thing.”

  “That’s true. I’ve got to admit I’m getting tired of not having another woman around the house.”

  “Do you live alone?”

  “No, I forget things, you know. I live with…I can’t seem to remember who’s staying with me.”

  “It’s all right. The name will come to you.”

  Of course, it wasn’t all right, was never all right when someone’s memory had gaping holes in it. But Abby seemed disinclined to discuss it further. Instead she gestured to the cottage that was coming into view.

  “There it is. I haven’t been inside in ages. Have you lived here long?”

  “I moved in this morning.”

  “You remind me of the woman who used to live here.”

  “Do I?”

  “Thea. Such a lovely person. It’s sad. So sad.” The vague look was back in Abby’s eyes. Raven saw it as she helped her up the steps to the back door. Was someone out searching for the woman? Raven hoped so, as she had no idea where Abby lived. Nora probably knew. She’d call her after she got her guest settled.

  She led Abby through the laundry room and kitchen, into the living room. “Is there anyone I should call? Someone who might be worried?”

  Abby didn’t respond, just sat on the couch, lost in a world Raven wasn’t part of.

  “Let’s take care of your feet, then I’ll make tea.” She cleaned and dressed the cuts, then helped Abby lie down. “Rest for a while. I won’t be long.”

  Abby blinked up at her, then smiled. “You’re very kind and have a nurse’s touch.”

  “I am a nurse.”

  But Abby had already closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

  “What do you mean, she’s gone? You’re being paid to take care of her. Not lose her.”

  “She was watching TV, just as lucid as could be. Asked me to run out and get her some chocolate ice cream. I thought she’d be fine for a few minutes.”

  “Martha.” Shane Montgomery stopped, raked a hand through his hair and took a calming breath. “We talked about this when I hired you. Aunt Abby cannot be left alone.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Martha’s quiet sniffles turned to deep sobs. “I thought she’d be fine. I never imagined…What if she’s gone to the lake? What if she drowns? It’ll be on me. On my head. Lord, forgive me.”

  Shane bit back impatience.
He didn’t deal well with hysterics and that was where Martha was heading, her round face red and wet with tears. “Let’s not panic yet. Aunt Abby has gone off before. She always comes home. There’s no reason to believe she won’t do the same this time.”

  Except that Abby had gotten worse in the past months. So much worse that Shane was beginning to wonder if home was the best place for her. Unfortunately there wasn’t another option. He’d made a promise to her. He’d keep it. “Let’s call the police. Get them started on the search. Then we’ll—”

  The phone rang, adding fuel to Martha’s fear. “What if it’s the police? What if she’s dead? It’ll be my fault. My fault.”

  “Calm down, Martha. I won’t be able to hear above your crying.” Shane grabbed the phone on the third ring. “Hello.”

  “Is this Shane Montgomery?” The voice was soft and pleasant.

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Raven Stevenson. I’m renting the Freedman property. Nora said you have an aunt. Abigail Montgomery.”