“We don’t carry nothin’ like that, hon,” she said, clearly frazzled. “Yer gonna have to head down to Ewing.”
Ewing. That would be an hour-and-a-half round trip. “Do you have a pay phone?”
“Outside.”
Pay phones were a whole new world to me. I considered running over to the tavern to use the phone there, but I figured Max and I needed as much space from each other as possible. So I dug a quarter out of my wallet, inserted it into the slot, then called Ginger.
“Hello?” she asked, sounding leery.
“Ginger, it’s Carly. Did you mean it when you offered to help with Marco?”
“Sure,” she said, but I heard the hesitation in her voice.
“You don’t have to do anything, but I need to head to Ewing to pick up something at Walgreens. I’m going to call him as soon as I get cell phone coverage there, but if I can’t reach him, can I call you and have Junior or someone go check on him?” I’d briefly considered calling Max, but I wasn’t sure he’d talk to me, and for all I knew, he was sleeping off his hangover. Or drinking again. Wyatt was out. He’d been far too jealous that morning.
She gasped. “Oh, my word. Is Marco okay?”
“The doctor thinks he just overdid it, but I can’t help worrying about him.”
“Of course. I’ll be here. Just call, and I’ll have Junior run up there to check.”
“Thanks.”
I drove Marco’s Explorer to Ewing, wondering if I should have made a quick trip to Hank’s to pick up his car. It didn’t feel right driving Marco’s vehicle and using his gas, but I reminded myself that I was making the trip for him. Nevertheless, I wondered what people would think if they saw me driving his SUV, especially since I was wearing a baggy outfit that obviously belonged to a man. Did I care? Did it matter?
When I pulled into the Walgreens parking lot, I dug my phone out of my purse and checked my cell service. Two bars. Drum had absolutely no coverage, but I’d discovered that Ewing had spotty areas, and I’d lucked out. I called Marco, and it took him several rings to answer.
“Hello?” He sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up.
“Hey, Marco,” I said. “I had to go to Ewing to get the monitor, but since I’m going to be gone longer than I expected, I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” he said, sounding grumpy. “I was sleeping.”
“How’s your pain? Better? Worse?”
“I’m fine, Carly. Stop worryin’.”
That was asking for the impossible. “This shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” he said. “I’ll probably sleep a little while longer, then heat up my meatloaf for dinner.”
“If you have any problems before I get back, you can call Ginger. She said she would send Junior to come check on you.”
“Junior? Why in the hell would you send Junior out to check on me? I’m fine.”
I was beginning to think I’d overreacted, but Marco wasn’t the best patient. I suspected he was grumpy because he was in pain.
“Of course you are,” I said. “But call her anyway if you have any problems. Okay?”
“If I have any problems, I’ll call one of my friends,” he snapped. “I’ll see you when you get back.” Then he hung up.
I was pissing people off left and right today. But I knew Marco wasn’t angry with me. He was in pain and likely frustrated. I took comfort in knowing that I didn’t have to rush back—it didn’t seem like he was going to hemorrhage to death while I was gone. I wondered if this was a completely wasted trip, but I still thought a blood pressure cuff was a good idea for Hank. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought of it earlier. Besides which, I’d wanted to come to Ewing anyway. If Marco was feeling okay and wanted to sleep, I could stop by the nursing home before heading back.
Since I wasn’t in a hurry, I took my time, perusing the cosmetics and skin care aisle. Carly Moore was two years younger than Caroline Blakely. I wondered if I should up my skin-care game. I picked out a new eye cream, then put it back when I realized it cost about thirty bucks. Budgeting was new to me, and I still had a lot to learn. I picked out a different one, under ten dollars, and moved on to the hair aisle. While my dye job had covered my roots, it wasn’t great. Maybe I could find a YouTube video to teach me how to make it look more natural.
What did it matter if I didn’t have a job to pay for any of it?
What did Max know about Lula and Greta? Could I forgive him when I found out?
If Max doesn’t give me back my job, I might have to leave.
I was surprised by the melancholy that washed over me. I’d become pretty attached to some of the people in Drum.
I found the section with blood pressure cuffs and stood in front of the shelves, trying to decide whether to get a wrist or armband model. For the millionth time, I wished I had a smart phone so I could use the internet.
“Carly?” I heard a small feminine voice ask to my left.
I glanced up, wondering who had recognized me in Ewing, and I couldn’t hide my shock when I found myself face-to-face with Emily Drummond. She looked frailer than I remembered at Seth’s funeral. She’d tied a blue scarf around her head, and dark circles underscored her pale blue eyes. Her skin hung off of her skeletal frame, but I could see the kindness in her eyes, a sharp contrast to the man she was married to.
Her face lit up with delight. “Oh, it is you.”
“Hello,” I said, so caught off guard that I had no idea what else to say. I grabbed the box in front of me and put it in my basket, not even paying attention to which one I’d picked up.
“Is that for Hank?” she asked. “Max said you were taking care of him.”
“Actually,” I said, recovering from the shock of seeing her. “It’s for Marco. The sheriff deputy who Carson shot.” But of course she knew him. He and Max had been best friends for years. The story he’d told me filtered back—how Emily had come to their apartment to speak to Max, how she’d said something to convince Max to come home from college early.
Her sunken eyes clouded. “When I heard…” Her voice trailed off and the pain on her face made it clear she, at least, had possessed no knowledge of Carson’s schemes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” Part of me wanted to tell her it was okay, but it wasn’t, so instead I said, “It wasn’t your fault.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor, and it stayed there for a couple of seconds before she lifted her face. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Marco is like a second son. When I heard what Carson had done…” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe he shot Marco. Carson knew him. Had watched him grow up. To shoot him in cold blood like that…”
“He shot at Wyatt too,” I said, my voice thick. “He wouldn’t have batted an eye at killing him.”
“To get to you,” a man behind me said in a dry voice.
I involuntarily flinched, but I shouldn’t have been surprised Bart Drummond was with her. Emily looked like she’d blow over in a strong wind. It was a wonder she was out of her house at all. She probably didn’t go anywhere alone anymore.
I slowly turned to my side as Bart walked past me to get to his wife, and his words finally penetrated. He was attempting to make this all about me. “Carson was cleaning up loose ends,” I said, turning the blame where it squarely belonged. “I was a loose end.”
“And my son and Max’s best friend were caught in the crossfire,” he said in a voice so cold goosebumps broke out on my arm.
Emily turned and patted her husband’s arm, but she looked like she was being careful not to upset him. “No, she’s right. This wasn’t personal for Carson. It was a man cleaning up his mess.” Tears filled her eyes again. “Because I can’t let myself believe he’d purposely target Wyatt and Marco.”
Bart wrapped an arm around Emily’s back. “Now you’re upset, love.”
The look he gave me made it clear who he blamed for that.
She leaned
into him and gave me a smile, but I saw hesitation in her eyes. A reserve that hadn’t been there before her husband had joined us. What was it like to be married to such a man? I hadn’t been able to ask my own mother, and part of me wished I could ask Emily.
“I hear you’re working for Max at the tavern,” she said. “He has such lovely things to say about you.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond given he’d fired me a few hours earlier, but the last thing I wanted to do was give Bart the satisfaction of saying so. He was the one who’d started this whole mess, somewhere down the line. I lifted my gaze to his as I answered. “Max is a wonderful boss. I’m very lucky.”
“Lucky,” Bart said. “Do you consider yourself lucky, Carly?”
The blood fled from my head, and I had a moment of dizziness as the truth slammed into me.
He knew. He knew who I was.
Everything in me screamed run, but anger and my pride made my back straighten. “I believe luck is what you make of it.”
“A good philosophy,” he said. His mouth stretched into a grin, but his eyes were cold. “One I share. You never know when something interestin’ will fall in your lap, but what really matters is what you do with it.”
Oh, he definitely knew.
Did I leave town? Did I try to reason with him? Maybe this would be the linchpin that convinced Wyatt to finally share his secrets. Because my desire to bring Bart Drummond to justice had just gotten a whole lot more personal.
Emily shook her head and glanced up at her husband. “Don’t bore poor Carly with your work talk, Bart.”
“Despite her…interesting manner of dressing, Carly seems to have a level head on her shoulders,” Bart said with a chuckle. “I’m sure she’s findin’ our conversation quite interestin’.”
I’d wondered when he’d make a dig at my oversized clothes.
“Speaking of work talk,” I said with a smile I hoped didn’t look too forced. “It was lovely meeting your business associate at the tavern this week. Neil Carpenter?” I added, as though to jog his memory. Really, I wanted him to know I’d remembered the man’s name. “I was surprised to see him in Drum yesterday. Across the street from the tavern. I had the impression he’d gone back to Nashville.”
Bart’s left eye twitched. “I’m not sure how you came up with that impression. Neil’s been workin’ on a special project for me.”
“Bart’s puttin’ in a new resort and spa,” Emily said. “He’ll close the small one outside of Ewing.”
“You own the spa in Ewing?” I asked. This was the link I needed to tie Lula to Bart.
“I’m not sure you can call the Mountain View Lodge much of a spa,” he said dismissively. “The new resort will be much grander.”
“But he’ll hire all the old staff,” Emily said. “I insisted on it.”
“If they choose to come, dear.” Bart patted her arm. “They may not want to make the drive.”
“And where will the resort be located?” I asked, trying to buy some time. I wanted to ask Bart questions about Lula, but a direct approach seemed too dangerous, and I didn’t want to insult Emily.
“Well, that’s been a source of contention,” Bart said with a sly grin. “I’m puttin’ it on the edge of the vast Drummond property, but it borders Bingham land.” He made a dismissive gesture. “That’s all worked out now.”
“Bart just found out he won the court case this week,” Emily said. “They’ll break ground in the spring.”
“How exciting,” I said with fake enthusiasm. “How soon do you think it will open? I’m sure you’ll be needing staff.” I held Bart’s gaze. “Lula might be lookin’ for a job since she and Ruth don’t seem to be seein’ eye to eye these days.”
To his credit, Bart didn’t show a reaction.
“Poor Lula,” Emily said. “What an awful thing, to have one parent who kills the other.” That stung, although I could tell it wasn’t an intentional barb—Bart might know my secret, or at least part of it, but he wasn’t the sharing type. But what she said next completely reclaimed my attention. “Quite the mess. I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.”
“How so?” I asked in surprise.
“I’m sure Carly’s not interested in Balder Mountain gossip,” Bart said. “That’s ancient history now.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m a history buff. And besides, I figure the more I know about the people and the town, the better I’ll fit in.”
“Louise dropped by the house lookin’ for Bart that day. She said something about Hank that I didn’t understand. I asked her to repeat herself, but she seemed so upset.” She looked off in the distance, seemingly lost in thought, then asked, “How is Hank doin’, by the way?”
“His leg is healing nicely,” I said, my mind reeling from what she’d said about Hank. Especially since Hank had seemed so cagey about the incident when we’d discussed it the day before. “But he misses Seth terribly.”
“How can you stand livin’ out at that shack?” she asked. “I hear it’s haunted up there from all the…” Her voice trailed off as though she couldn’t bring herself to finish.
I blinked in surprise. “I have yet to meet any ghosts.”
If there was a ghost, I’d expect it to be the man Hank had killed in my defense.
“Don’t pay Emily any mind,” Bart said good-naturedly. “She’s a believer in the supernatural. Me,” he said, holding my gaze, “I’m a firm believer in the here and now, and I believe you and I have some business to discuss. Perhaps we can get together next week. Whenever your schedule will allow.”
I had no doubt about the topic—my real identity—but if he wasn’t going to turn me in to my father, then I must have something he wanted. Part of me was scared to find out what that was.
“Perhaps you can get Wyatt to bring you,” Emily said, sounding wistful.
“No,” Bart said, “I have a business proposition for Carly, and I think it’s best if she has no outside influence. In fact,” he added, “I think it’s best if you don’t mention this to anyone. Especially my sons.”
My fake smile spread a small fraction of an inch to acknowledge I’d heard his request, but I wasn’t about to agree to it. I needed to give this some thought, but a seed of hope formed inside me. This would influence Wyatt to take me into his confidence, wouldn’t it? Surely he’d want to help protect me.
“I’ll be in touch,” Bart said.
“Maybe you can stay for tea when you come,” Emily said. “We hardly get visitors out to the house these days.”
“I’m sure that Carly will have to run off as soon as our meeting is done,” Bart said. “She’s a very busy woman.”
Did he know I was looking for Lula? I wouldn’t be surprised. Even if his power had waned, Bart Drummond seemed to have his finger on the pulse of everything that happened in Drum. Was that why he wanted to meet with me? To convince me to stop my search? If so, why not send Emily to another area of the store and convince me now? No, it was something else entirely.
“Mrs. Drummond?” a woman from the pharmacy counter called out. “Your prescription is ready.”
“Oh,” Emily said, looking flustered. “My doctor called in a new prescription for my nausea. I hope this one works.” Then she added, “It was so lovely seeing you. I do hope you’ll find time to stay for tea when you stop by to see Bart.”
“Don’t worry,” Bart said with a shit-eating grin that looked eerily familiar, likely because I’d seen a nearly identical grin on Max’s face countless times. “We’ll be seeing a whole lot more of Carly.” Then he steered her around me and headed to the pharmacy counter.
I didn’t like the sound of that. What did Bart have planned for me?
But I’d been dismissed, which I was one hundred percent good with. I really didn’t want to chat with Bart, and I had places to go before I headed back to Drum.
After I went to the nursing home, I was paying a visit to Mountain View Lodge.
Chapter Twenty-One
; Greener Pastures was on the other side of Ewing, at the top of a steep slope. It seemed dangerous to keep a bunch of elderly people next to such a sharp incline, but then again, the brick building looked like it had originally been intended as a bomb shelter. I doubted they got out much.
The front doors opened to a wide hall that led to a large room with multiple tables set up to my right. A few older women sat at one of the tables, working on a jigsaw puzzle. To my left was a nursing station desk with an older woman tapping on her smartphone. She barely looked up when I stopped in front of her. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Miss Thelma.”
“Thelma Baines or Thelma Tureen?” she asked, her attention still on her phone.
“Uh…I’m not sure. Her granddaughter Greta comes to see her all the time. Her granddaughter Ginger said it would be okay to stop by for a visit.”
“Honey, ain’t nobody gonna stop you. Head on back.” She made a vague gesture toward her right. “Thelma Tureen’s in room 26.”
“Thank you.” I turned and walked down the hall, passing a wall plastered in headshots of the various employees, or so I assumed, but my attention was captured by a man in a wheelchair who seemed catatonic. My heart ached, and I considered stopping to check on him, but I was already leaving Marco longer than I’d planned. I needed to talk to Thelma and get out of here.
The door to 26 was open, and a woman with short, pure white hair sat in a rocking chair in the corner with a red quilt over her lap, knitting. She looked up with a friendly smile. “Hello. Are you looking for Virginia? They put her in the room next door.”
“No,” I said, taking a step into the room. “If you’re Thelma, I’m here to see you.”
Her smile widened. “Come on in.” She squinted up at me. “Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am. I’m Carly Moore, a friend of Greta and Ginger’s.” I was proud of myself for not fumbling around, trying to remember to use my new last name. It had become more and more natural over the past weeks.
Her Scream in the Silence: Carly Moore #2 Page 21