Page 5 of Seaside Strangers
She glanced around, taking in the family photos scattered throughout the room. Many featured Dan Malone with KC and his brothers, all of them undeniably handsome. Some had clearly been taken when the boys were kids, posing with their uncle,while others showed them with a couple she assumed were their parents.
In one photo, the three prepubescent boys were at a rodeo dressed like cowboys, grinning as they stood beside a horse. In another, they were even younger and wore pint-sized military uniforms, maybe for Halloween.
There were also pictures of a much younger Dan and a beautiful blonde woman, and from how they looked at each other, it was apparent they were very much in love. Moriah wondered who the woman was and where she was today. Gun in hand, she stood and took a quick scan of the multiple frames around the room and in the hallway, but couldn’t find any recent photos of the woman or updated photos of the boys’ parents.
The Malones appeared to be a close-knit family, and Moriah returned to the couch and sighed, wishing hers had been the same while she was growing up in Chicago. After several long absences over the years, her so-called father finally left her mother for good when Moriah was a teenager. By then, the dream of an ideal childhood had long since faded away. She knew her mother wanted and tried to be there for her and her sister, but she worked long hours at two jobs to ensure a roof over theirheads and food on the table. Work and sleep occupied most, if not all, of her time.
At fourteen, Moriah had taught herself to cook and took on the laundry and cleaning without being asked. She did everything she could to give her sister—three years younger—a sense of stability and steer her in the right direction.
Susan had other priorities. Boys caught her attention first, then drugs, and as she got older, she stopped listening to anything her sister and mother said. While Moriah stayed home, keeping up with chores and homework, Susan ran with the wrong crowd and landed in one mess after another, coming close to being sent to juvenile detention more than once.
Now, Moriah couldn’t help but wonder if things might have turned out differently if her sister had been sent there. Would it have forced her to change course so she’d still be alive today, or would the outcome have been the same?
Susan’s wild and promiscuous lifestyle caught up to her when she became pregnant at seventeen. The child’s father denied the baby was his and left town before it was born. But little Nicholas became a stabilizing rod for Susan as she tried to mature and become a good mother to her child. She agreed todrug counseling and found an evening job as a waitress at a local diner. With the extra income, their mother was able to quit her second job and help care for the baby.
The little boy became the light of Moriah’s life. She loved coming home from her part-time job or from classes at the local community college to play with him. The sisters and their mother doted on him as much as possible, and Nicholas was a happy child, if not a little spoiled. Moriah loved going to the local dollar store because that was all she could afford to buy him a new toy. Borrowing children’s books from the library, she’d read to him aloud whenever she could, and it quickly became their favorite time together. As soon as she finished one book, he’d hand her another. She lost count of how many times she’d readWinnie the Poohto him.
Things went very smoothly for the family for a few years. Nicholas had grown into a bubbly five-year-old and peppered everyone with “why” questions from morning until night. His grandmother appeared younger and more relaxed than she had in years. Susan stayed clean, and Moriah was one semester away from her teaching degree. It seemed as if things were finally going well for all of them.
But about seven months ago,Moriah started noticing the telltale signs that Susan was using again. Money would disappear fast, and her sister was always coming up short, borrowing from Moriah or their mother just to get by. She began asking them to babysit Nicholas more and more, often with little notice, and her shifts at the diner seemed to stretch later and later, to the point Moriah started to question whether she still worked there at all.
The most obvious change was her appearance. Susan stopped taking care of herself—her clothes wrinkled and unkempt, her hygiene slipping. The weight loss came next, sharp and undeniable. Moriah didn’t need anyone to spell it out—the signs were all there, the same ones she’d seen too many times in their neighborhood, where people lost themselves to illicit drugs every day.
Through the neighborhood grapevine, she’d discovered her sister was dating a small-time dealer named Leo Simmons. Moriah knew him only by reputation. He’d started pushing drugs on his high school classmates before being arrested and expelled for possession. At the time, he was still a minor, so the courts gave him a slap on the wrist and a short stint in juvie. After his release, he returned to the drug business, and if the rumorsshe’d heard were true, he was now protected by a few crooked cops.
Moriah had given her sister an ultimatum—break up with the dirtbag or move out—without Nicholas. Moriah refused to allow her nephew to be exposed to his mother’s dangerous lifestyle. Susan begged for forgiveness and swore she would stop seeing Leo. She cleaned herself up again and, for a few short weeks, appeared to be back on the right track. Moriah would never stop blaming herself for taking Susan’s word that everything would be okay.
Shifting on the couch for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour, she stared out the row of windows facing the beach. The sun was beginning its slow crawl up the clear horizon, bathing the sky in hues of ripe pineapples, cherries, and tangerines. It was so beautiful and peaceful at the shore, and Moriah wished she could live there forever. The sounds of the pounding surf had comforted her over the past few days. She'd loved the feel of the silky sand between her toes during the few times she dared to venture out onto the beach.
Charming was the word she’d use to describe Whisper, North Carolina. She’d only seen the center of the small town twice—once when Dan Malone had driven her through on the way to the beachhouse, and again when she’d taken a cab to the grocery store to stock up for the week.
It was the kind of place where people could stroll the half-mile stretch of shops and municipal buildings instead of driving, where everything felt close and unhurried. She found herself wondering if they held picnics and parades in the main square on the Fourth of July, or other celebrations throughout the year. The image came easily, shaped by the romance novels she’d devoured since her teens, where towns like this always came alive with bunting, music, and neighbors who knew each other by name.
A voracious reader, she had never been able to get enough of books. Since arriving in Whisper three days ago, she’d already finished two local history books before starting the fiction book that probably kept many people from venturing into the ocean.
Growing up in Chicago, she could never imagine living in a place that didn’t bustle twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She was, however, beginning to think she could learn to enjoy the slow pace and quiet atmosphere of a small community. It was too bad she wouldn’t be around long enough to find out.
As the sun continued itsclimb in the east, morning sky turned into a colorful mural, and she contemplated her unexpected visitor. KC was incredibly good-looking, and she was annoyed at herself for noticing. Well, any woman with a pulse would have noticed, she told herself.
With broad shoulders and a chiseled chest and back, he stood about six-five, taller than most men she knew. Thick medium-brown hair hung a few inches past the nape of his neck, and his wicked, hazel eyes were captivating. A scar over his right temple almost ruined what could be a movie star’s face. He hadn’t used a razor in several days, which added to his bad-boy attractiveness. In a snug black T-shirt and tan cargo pants, it had been blatantly obvious he was in excellent physical shape, and she wondered how he managed to stay that way.
Shaking her head, she tried to rid her mind of the images of the man. In a few hours, she would convince him to leave, then figure out what to do next. Dan Malone hadn’t run a credit check on her when she rented the house from him, nor did he ask her to sign a lease. She didn’t tell him she wouldn’t be staying long and let him assume she’d be around for a while. No one in Whisper had any idea who she really was. And no one knew the horror that hadtaken over her world four short months ago and left her running for her life.
She missed her family.
Don’t think about them. Don’t think about Momma, Susan, and Nicholas. There’s nothing you can do for them now. Think about what you’re going to do next and where you’ll go from here.
Moriah glanced at the closed bedroom door and prayed she was safe for now.
Dan Malone wiped down the small kitchen counter, setting a mug beside the coffeemaker as it gurgled and hissed, the rich scent of fresh brew filling the space. Through the open window drifted the early morning sounds of the town waking up—car doors shutting, an engine revving, the faint jingle of a bicycle bell, and the low murmur of voices carrying up from the street below.
His dog, Jinx, lay stretched across the threshold between the kitchen and living area, head resting on his paws, dark eyes tracking Dan’s every movement. His tail gave an occasional thump against the floor, as if he knew coffee meant they were almost ready to go to work.
As a puppy, before he’d found his forever home, his tail had somehow been broken and hung at a crooked angle. He was very affectionate, and Dan adored his canine sidekick. The dog never argued with or heckled him, as his three nephews enjoyed doing. Jinx was his best friend in life, and neither would have it any other way.
After the last of his nephews had ventured off into the military, Dan found the beach house too quiet and moved into the one-bedroom apartment above the hardware store he owned. He preferred to keep both places exceptionally tidy. There was never any clutter, and everything was kept in its proper place—a throwback to his Army days, he supposed.
Filling a large thermos with his daily dose of caffeine, which he would take downstairs to the shop, he wondered if KC had arrived at the beach house yet and met the new tenant. He chuckled, wishing to be a fly on the wall for that encounter. Well, he was sure he’d hear about it soon enough.
