The Unknown Neighbor (An Aria Brandt Psychological Thriller—Book Three)

By Rylie Dark

“A brilliant book. I couldn’t put it down and I never guessed who the murderer was!”
—Reader review for Only Murder
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

In the heart of Charleston, as art restorer Aria Brandt peels back centuries of history on a grand matriarch's portrait, she uncovers a letter that could shatter an esteemed family legacy.

With each brushstroke, she edges closer to exposing truths that some would kill to keep hidden.

As the southern aristocracy's facade crumbles, Aria must navigate a dangerous path--or risk becoming another hidden chapter in the family's storied past.

Will she crack the code before she is silenced?

THE UNKNOWN NEIGHBOR is the third book in a new psychological suspense series by #1 bestselling and critically acclaimed mystery and suspense author Rylie Dark, whose books have received over 2,000 five-star reviews and ratings.

Future books in the series are also available!

“I loved this thriller, read it in one sitting. Lots of twists and turns and I didn’t guess the
culprit at all… Already pre-ordered the second!”
—Reader review for Only Murder
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“This book takes off with a bang… An excellent read, and I'm looking forward to the next book!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Fantastic book! It was hard to put down. I can’t wait to see what happens next!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“The twists and turns kept coming. Can't wait to read the next book!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“A must-read if you enjoy action-packed stories with good plots!”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I really like this author and this series starts with a bang. It will keep you turning the pages till the end of the book and wanting more.”
—Reader review for SEE HER RUN
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I can't say enough about this author! How about ‘out of this world’! This author is going to go far!”
—Reader review for ONLY MURDER
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I really enjoyed this book… The characters were alive, and the twists and turns were great. It will keep you reading till the end and leave you wanting more.”
—Reader review for NO WAY OUT
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“This is an author that I highly recommend. Her books will have you begging for more.”
—Reader review for NO WAY OUT
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rylie Dark
• Release date: Nov 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9781094385341

Book preview

cover.jpg

T H E

U N K N O W N

N E I G H B O R

(An Aria Brandt Mystery—Book 3)

R y l i e   D a r k

Rylie Dark

Bestselling author Rylie Dark is author of the SADIE PRICE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the CARLY SEE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the MIA NORTH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books; of the MORGAN STARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books; of the HAILEY ROCK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books; of the TARA STRONG MYSTERY series, comprising six books; of the ALEX QUINN FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books; of the MAEVE SHARP FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books; of the KELLY CRUZ FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books; of the JESSIE REACH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising seven books (and counting); of the BECCA THORN FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books (and counting); of the CASEY FAITH SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books (and counting); of the ARIA BRANDT SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books (and counting); of the HAYDEN SMART SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books (and counting); and of the new SLOANE RIDDLE SUSPENSE THRILLER, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Rylie loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.ryliedark.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2024 by Rylie Dark. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BOOKS BY RYLIE DARK

SLOANE RIDDLE MYSTERY

AFTER HE TOOK (Book #1)

AFTER HE STRUCK (Book #2)

AFTER HE SNAPPED (Book #3)

AFTER HE WAITED (Book #4)

AFTER HE WATCHED (Book #5)

HAYDEN SMART MYSTERY

ALL FOR ME (Book #1)

ALL FOR NOTHING (Book #2)

ALL FOR VENGEANCE (Book #3)

ALL FOR YOU (Book #4)

ALL FOREVER (Book #5)

ARIA BRANDT MYSTERY

THE UNKNOWN WOMAN (Book #1)

THE UNKNOWN WIFE (Book #2)

THE UNKNOWN NEIGHBOR (Book #3)

THE UNKNOWN GUEST (Book #4)

THE UNKNOWN PAST (Book #5)

CASEY FAITH MYSTERY

BEHIND HIS EYES (Book #1)

BEHIND HIS SMILE (Book #2)

BEHIND HIS MASK (Book #3)

BEHIND HIS LIES (Book #4)

BEHIND HIS THOUGHTS (Book #5)

BECCA THORN MYSTERY

GONE COLD (Book #1)

GONE DARK (Book #2)

GONE SILENT (Book #3)

GONE HOLLOW (Book #4)

GONE FOREVER (Book #5)

JESSIE REACH MYSTERY

HIS OTHER SIDE (Book #1)

HIS OTHER SELF (Book #2)

HIS OTHER SECRET (Book #3)

HIS OTHER WISH (Book #4)

HIS OTHER PLAN (Book #5)

KELLY CRUZ MYSTERY

WHERE YOU GO (Book #1)

WHERE YOU HIDE (Book #2)

WHERE YOU SLEEP (Book #3)

WHERE YOU RUN (Book #4)

WHERE YOU FEAR (Book #5)

MAEVE SHARP FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

WITH MALICE (Book #1)

WITH ENVY (Book #2)

WITH VENGEANCE (Book #3)

WITH RAGE (Book #4)

WITH YOU (Book #5)

ALEX QUINN SUSPENSE THRILLER

FIRST, MURDER (Book #1)

SECOND, DEATH (Book #2)

THIRD, ENVY (Book #3)

FOURTH, LUST (Book #4)

FIFTH, WRATH (Book #5)

TARA STRONG MYSTERY

GIRL WITHOUT A CHANCE (Book #1)

GIRL WITHOUT A HOME (Book #2)

GIRL WITHOUT A TRACE (Book #3)

GIRL WITHOUT A NAME (Book #4)

GIRL WITHOUT A PRAYER (Book #5)

GIRL WITHOUT A PAST (Book #6)

HAILEY ROCK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

BEHIND YOU (Book #1)

BESIDE YOU (Book #2)

AFTER YOU (Book #3)

WATCHING YOU (Book #4)

JUDGING YOU (Book #5)

FOLLOWING YOU (Book #6)

SADIE PRICE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

ONLY MURDER (Book #1)

ONLY RAGE (Book #2)

ONLY HIS (Book #3)

ONLY ONCE (Book #4)

ONLY SPITE (Book #5)

ONLY MADNESS (Book #6)

MIA NORTH FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SEE HER RUN (Book #1)

SEE HER HIDE (Book #2)

SEE HER SCREAM (Book #3)

SEE HER VANISH (Book #4)

SEE HER GONE (Book #5)

SEE HER DEAD (Book #6)

CARLY SEE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NO WAY OUT (Book #1)

NO WAY BACK (Book #2)

NO WAY HOME (Book #3)

NO WAY LEFT (Book #4)

NO WAY UP (Book #5)

NO WAY TO DIE (Book #6)

MORGAN STARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

TOO LATE (Book #1)

TOO CLOSE (Book #2)

TOO FAR GONE (Book #3)

TOO LOST (Book #4)

TOO BROKEN (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

The clock on the dashboard glows at me like a judgmental eye. I’m late. Not just a little late, but the kind of late that makes you break out in a cold sweat. The kind of late that has you mentally rehearsing apologies and excuses, neither of which will sound convincing when you’re standing in front of a family like the Sterlings.

I push my foot down a little harder on the gas, urging the rental car to move faster. The trees lining the road blur into a mix of burnt orange and deep red, a beautiful reminder that autumn has fully settled in Charleston. Normally, I’d admire the scenery, maybe even crack the window to breathe in the crisp air, but right now all I can think about is how I’m going to explain this delay.

Dammit, Aria, I say to myself, double checking the dashboard clock. Just once, I'd like to be on time.

It's too familiar of a story. No matter how much I prepare, I always end up running behind. At least I know my restoration work is enough to make up for it. At least, I hope it is.

This was supposed to be a big step in the right direction. After being involved in two murder investigations, I think some people are afraid to hire me. Restoring a portrait for a family as prestigious as the Sterlings isn’t just another job; it’s the kind of opportunity that could get me more work, help me pay off the growing pile of bills on my desk, and maybe—just maybe—give me a little peace of mind. It’s been months since I’ve had a major client, and my savings have dwindled down to almost nothing.

I need this to go well.

But here I am, racing against the setting sun, with time slipping through my fingers like sand.

The engine sputters, pulling me out of my spiral of anxious thoughts. The car jerks, the steady rhythm of the engine replaced by a troubling stutter. My heart sinks.

No, not now. Please, not now. I'm not sure if I'm pleading with the car or God.

But the car has other plans. It slows to a crawl, then rolls to a complete stop on the side of the road, surrounded by nothing but golden trees and the growing darkness dimming their shimmer.

Perfect. Just perfect, Aria.

For a moment, I just sit there, staring out at the deserted road, trying to process what’s happening. Of course, this would happen now—because why not? I’m already late, why not add a broken-down car to the mix? I turn the key in the ignition again, hoping for a miracle, but the engine only coughs weakly before falling silent.

Great. Now, I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere with a dead car and no idea what to do next.

I get out, muttering a few choice words under my breath. I glance at my reflection on the driver's window as I breathe in the autumn air. I can see how stressed I look in my reflection, and take the shortest of moments to fix some loose strands of red hair back in place with a hair pin.

I rush around to the the front of the car and pop the hood. The warm, sticky air from the engine clings to my skin. The last of the daylight is quickly fading, making it hard to see anything. I’m not exactly a mechanic, but I’ve dealt with enough old, finicky equipment to know my way around a set of tools. My dad was a constant tinkerer when I was a kid, and any time I have to fix something, it makes me feel closer to him again. Despite his failings with booze, I really miss him.

I peer into the engine, squinting in the dim light, and spot the problem—a loose connection near the battery. I let out a sigh of relief. This, I can fix.

I grab the small toolkit I keep in the trunk and return to the engine. My hands move imprecisely due to the adrenaline. If I can just tighten this connection, maybe—just maybe—I can still make it to the estate before they write me off as a lost cause and hire someone else.

The light is almost gone, and I work quickly, my fingers fumbling with the screwdriver as I tighten the first screw. A cold breeze wanders through the trees to my back, and the noise unnerves me. I glance over my shoulder as I tighten the other connection. I can almost see a figure standing between the whispering trees watching me. I wish my imagination wasn't so vivid these days. When I was younger, I had some mental health issues, and I always worry that the figments of my imagination may one day become more than that.

Dammit! I wince as the tool slips due to my attention being elsewhere. I feel the sharp sting before I see the blood.

Aria... The word escapes me as I drop the screwdriver, staring in disbelief at the gash in my left palm. Blood wells up instantly, dark and thick, and for a moment, all I can do is watch it drip onto the hot engine, sizzling.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic. The cut is bad, but I’m not about to let it stop me. I can’t afford to be delayed any further. I open the passenger door with my good hand and rummage around inside my bag on the seat. Finally, I find a clean cloth at the bottom. I wrap it tightly around my hand, wincing as the pressure intensifies the pain. The makeshift bandage quickly turns red, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m not about to let a little—or a lot—of blood stop me from getting to the Sterling estate. I need this job too much.

Picking up the screwdriver with my right hand, I finish tightening the connection and close the hood. The pain in my left hand is sharp, throbbing with every movement, but I force myself to focus. Back in the car, I turn the key, and the engine roars back to life. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

One crisis down, several more to go.

The sun is almost completely gone, the road ahead a dark, winding path through the trees. I press down on the gas, pushing the car as fast as it’ll go, trying to ignore the nagging thoughts of failure at the back of my mind.

The landscape outside the window becomes a blur of shadows, the darkness creeping in from all sides. My hand throbs with every heartbeat, and I start to worry about how I’m going to manage the restoration work with an injury like this. Handling delicate brushes and intricate details requires precision and, right now, I’m not sure I can even grip a brush properly. What if I can’t do it? What if I have to cancel the job because of this stupid cut?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the trees part, and the Sterling estate comes into view. The mansion rises up out of the darkness, its white columns glowing faintly in the now rising moonlight. It’s grand, imposing, and exactly what I expected—except now, it feels more like a struggle than an opportunity. I turn onto the long gravel driveway, the tires crunching under the weight of my worry. The house looms larger with each turn, its size and grandeur almost overwhelming. But I’m here. I made it. Somehow.

I park the car in front of the mansion and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The pain in my hand is relentless, the bandage soaked through with blood, and the exhaustion from the day is catching up to me.

I just need to get through this, and everything will be fine. Right? I say to myself.

I step out of the car and retrieve my small suitcase from the trunk as best I can with one hand. I turn and start towards the mansion, pulling my wheeled suitcase behind me. The windows are glowing softly as I approach. The gravel crunches under my feet, and the suitcase scuffs against the ground. These are the only sounds I can hear in the still evening air.

As I approach the door, my mind races with a hundred different thoughts—about the job, about the Sterlings, about whether I’m really cut out for this after my last job ended in my employer being a murderer! But one thought stands out above the rest: I’ve come this far, and I’m not turning back now. I’m going to walk in there, head held high, and prove that I’m the right person for this job—even if I’m holding myself together with nothing but determination and a blood-soaked cloth.

I reach the front door and raise my good hand, but dread runs up my spine as the doors begin to open before I've even knocked. For a moment, my mood darkens, and I wonder who is about to greet me.

CHAPTER ONE

The grand doors of the Sterling estate open with a soft creak, revealing a man standing tall and composed. His silver hair is impeccably combed, his suit tailored to perfection. He offers me a handshake that’s firm but not warm, the kind that’s more about tradition than connection.

Randall Sterling, he says. It’s nice to meet you… Even at this late hour.

My heart dips a bit. It was a dig at my tardiness. I let go of my suitcase and leave it standing behind me.

I'm very sorry, Mr Sterling, I offer.

As I step into the foyer, I’m hit by the sheer scale of the place—vaulted ceilings, dark wood paneling, and a chandelier that looks like it could light up a small town. The opulence is overwhelming, almost stifling.

You're here now, Miss Brandt, Randall says, his voice measured and smooth. We’re very pleased you could make it.

Thank you, Mr. Sterling, I reply, managing what I hope is a confident smile despite the throbbing in my hand. I apologize for being late. The drive was... a bit more eventful than I anticipated. I did this while fixing something under the hood of my car. I raise my hand, still wrapped in a bloodied rag.

His eyes flicker to the wound. Oh, my, he says. We'll need to get that cleaned up. Can I call someone to tend to it?

I appreciate your kindness, Mr Sterling, I say. But the bleeding has stopped now. I would appreciate some dressings or bandages though, if there are any in the house?

I say all this, hoping I don't drip blood on the floor.

Of course, give me a moment.

Randall disappears through a door. Moments later, he reappears with a first aid kit in his hands. He gives it to me. Are you sure you don't require someone to apply the dressing?

No, thank you; is there a bathroom nearby? I ask.

Randall nods and walks over to a door near the end of the huge lobby. He opens the door.

Down this hall, third on the left, he says, but he doesn't smile.

Thank you.

I'll wait here, Miss Brandt.

I follow his directions and find a small, pristine bathroom as dazzlingly white as anything I've ever seen. There, I look at the wound on my hand and unwrap it, taking in a sharp breath as the cloth sticks momentarily to the wound before coming away. In the first aid kit, I find something to sterilize and clean the wound, and then I dry it off and wrap it in a bandage dressing.

Looking up, I catch my reflection in an ornate mirror with an oval golden frame. I notice that I have a grease mark on my cheek. It must have been from when I was under the hood of my car.

Great impression, Aria, I say, wiping the mark from my face with some soapy water.

Quickly, I return to the lobby, handing Randall the first aid kit. Thank you. I feel much better.

Of course, Randall says. Are you sure you're all right? If you require painkillers, I'm sure we will have some in a medicine cabinet somewhere.

Thank you, but I think I have some with me, I say. I'm honestly feeling better.

Would you like something to drink or perhaps a supper? Randall asks.

No, thank you. I had an early dinner on my way here.

In that case, he says, won't you come and meet my family before bed?

I'd be delighted, I say, moving to get my suitcase at the main door.

Are you sure I can't carry that for you? Randall