Dead By Nightfall by Beverly Barton

very subtle, very careful way. Nic had just learned a valuable lesson from her newfound friend.
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    Griff finally left the office suite around four that morning, went to his study, and eventually fell asleep on the sofa sometime after five. When he woke, his left shoulder ached where it had pressed awkwardly against the sofa arm, and he felt groggy and slightly disoriented. Sitting up, he folded the upper half of his body toward his knees and stretched his neck, shoulders, and back as he stared down at his feet. He lifted his hands, placed them on either side of his head, and rubbed his temples.
    He needed coffee.
    Barbara Jean would have coffee in both the kitchen and in the office. All he had to do was go to either place for a much-needed caffeine boost. But he dreaded leaving the quiet haven of his private den. His friends and employees meant well, their actions coming from sincere concern for his wellbeing and their love and respect for Nic, but he couldn’t bear the looks of pity in their eyes.
    Coming up slowly onto his feet, Griff clutched the back of his neck and massaged the sore muscles. As much as he would like to, he couldn’t hide away in here all day. Staying alone in his study, thinking about Nic, imagining what she might be experiencing, wouldn’t help her. All it would do was drive him crazy.
    Griff walked across the semidark study, shards of morning light slipping through the shuttered windows. He opened the door and walked out into the hall. The buzz of a wide-awake and active household met him the moment he emerged from his seclusion. As he neared the kitchen, the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying lured him closer, but when he heard the drone of female voices, he paused, his hand on the kitchen door.
    You’re going to have to eat and sleep and interact with others if you have any hope of staying sane while you search for Nic.
    He shoved open the door and walked into the kitchen. The voices he had heard belonged to Barbara Jean Hughes, Maleah, and Griffin Rest’s longtime cook, Mattie Glover. All three women turned and stared at him.
    â€œMorning,” he said as he headed for the coffeemaker.
    â€œDid you get any sleep?” Barbara Jean asked and then motioned to Mattie, who immediately filled an empty plate with bacon, eggs, hash browns, and a couple of biscuits.
    â€œYeah, I got some sleep.” Griff poured the hot, black brew into a mug, lifted the mug to his mouth, and savored the first sip.
    â€œSit down and eat,” Barbara Jean told him as Mattie set the overflowing plate on the table.
    â€œYes, ma’am.” Griff placed the UT orange mug beside his plate, pulled out a chair, and sat across from Maleah, who lifted her gaze to meet his. “How about you? Did you and Derek get any sleep?” The couple had gone upstairs to bed around three this morning, an hour before he had sought solitude in his study.
    â€œSome,” she replied. “Derek’s in the shower. He’ll be down soon.”
    Griff eyed the food in front of him.
    â€œI took it upon myself to call Charles David last night before I went to bed,” Maleah said. “I thought he should know that Nic is missing.”
    Griff snapped his gaze up from the breakfast plate and met Maleah’s hostile stare. “Right. Yes, of course. He did need to know. Thank you.” Griff hadn’t given Charles David, Nic’s younger brother, a thought.
    â€œHe’s going to take the first flight out of San Francisco this morning.”
    â€œThen he’s coming here?”
    â€œEat now, talk later.” Barbara Jean cast Maleah a scolding glare.
    Maleah downed the last drops in her coffee cup, scooted back her chair, and stood. Just as she walked over and put her cup in the dishwasher, Shaughnessy Hood came barreling into the room.
    â€œGood. You’re up.” Shaughnessy looked at Griff. “Sanders wants to see you right now. He has a lead on where Linden