“Hey, Wyatt, it’s Carly. I came to Ewing to get a blood pressure cuff for Marco, and while I was in town, I stopped by the nursing home to visit Greta’s grandmother. I saw a photo of a guy who was behind your shop this morning. I was hoping to ask you some questions about him. I’m heading back to Marco’s now, so I’ll try your home number or Hank’s number later.”
Since the spa seemed like a pointless venture and I was still worried about Marco, I headed back to Drum. I was tense for most of the drive, imagining Shane Jones’s pickup truck at every turn, but no one tried to run me off the road or even cut me off. I made it back to Drum safely.
My makeshift sign was still on the front door at Max’s Tavern, and I struggled to block the replay of my morning with Max. I was torn between wanting to smooth things over with him and worrying that he was guilty of something that would ruin our friendship forever.
It was getting dark by the time I pulled up in front of Marco’s house, but a light glowed through the window. When I walked inside, Marco was sitting up on the sofa and he shot me a scowl. “Did you drive to Timbuktu to get the damn thing?”
I shut the door behind me. “Well, hello to you too.”
“I was gettin’ worried, Carly. You were gone forever.”
I sat in the chair next to the sofa. “You didn’t seem in a hurry, so I went by the nursing home and talked to Greta’s grandmother. While I was there, I saw a wall of photos, and one of them was of the guy who was hanging out behind Wyatt’s garage this morning. He started working at the nursing home a few weeks ago. I’m sure he’s the same guy who visited Greta at the diner, and according to one of the residents, he stole her wallet while she was visiting her grandmother and then left it in the restroom.”
He stared at me wide-eyed. “What? What guy behind Wyatt’s garage?”
“You were really out of it,” I said, then filled him in about seeing the guy at Wyatt’s, talking to Greta, going to the nursing home, and what I’d learned from Thelma and the other women.
“Shane Jones,” he said more to himself than me. “I have a friend in the department who can run his name through the system and see if he has any priors. That is, if it’s not an alias.”
“We know he drives a black pickup,” I added.
“Did you get the plate number?”
“No, but I think Wyatt talked to him. The guy showed up after I went inside, and Wyatt stayed out there longer than it would take to hose off your crutches. I thought maybe he was talking to you, but you were out of it.”
“Sure was.”
I told him about Wyatt’s call.
“I suspect the guy dropped by inquiring about parts,” Marco said. “But it’s odd that he went straight to the back to do it.”
“Maybe Wyatt knows him or got some information from him.”
“I’ll call my friend Ken, and then you call Wyatt.”
As he started to reach for the phone, I said, “I went all the way to Ewing to get this blood pressure cuff, so I’m going to actually use it before you make that call.”
But it was obvious that a long nap was exactly what he’d needed. His color was back and the dark circles under his eyes were gone. Still, the way he was carefully moving around told me the pain hadn’t completely abated.
He sat back in his seat and held his left arm out straight. “Okay, Nurse Carly.”
I opened the box and wrapped the cuff around his arm. “I ran into someone at the Walgreens in Ewing.” I looked up and held his blue-green eyes. “Two someones… Emily and Bart Drummond.”
He held perfectly still, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the cuff around his arm, filling with air. “What happened?”
I’d started this conversation, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow through with it. Marco didn’t know about my life as Caroline Blakely. If I told him about Bart’s invitation, he’d want to know what Bart had on me, and I wasn’t ready to tell him. While I trusted Marco, the fewer people who knew, the safer I’d be. “Emily was pleased to see me. Bart…he was harder to read.”
“That’s Bart for you. How did Emily look?”
“Thin. Tired. She was picking up a new prescription for her nausea.”
He frowned. “She’s had a rough go of it with this round of chemo. Max is worried about her.”
“He never talks about it.”
The cuff stopped filling with air and began to deflate.
“He’s great at compartmentalizing,” Marco said.
“Maybe not as great as you both seem to think since he gets shit-faced drunk as a coping mechanism.” I looked at the blood pressure reading. “122 over 76. Perfect.”
“See?” he said. “I told you I’m fine. I was just tired.”
“Emily did make a comment about Lula that I found interesting. She said Lula’s mother showed up on their doorstep the day she shot her husband. Louise was looking for Bart, apparently, but she also said something about Hank.”
His brow shot up. “Hank was involved in it?”
“I don’t know. Emily doesn’t remember what she said, but it made me wonder if Louise showed up to ask Bart for a favor.”
A frown creased his forehead. “She would have to be pretty desperate to resort to that.”
“My thoughts exactly, which is why I need to get Hank to talk. He seemed pretty surprised to hear Louise was getting out soon. And he seemed a little off when I brought it up.…like maybe he knew more than he was sharing.”
He looked deep in thought, so I stood and said, “Call your friend, and I’ll heat up your food from Watson’s.”
I transferred the food from the Styrofoam container to a plate and put it in the microwave. Marco might be feeling better, but I still didn’t think he should go back out anytime soon. Still, I couldn’t stand the thought of doing nothing. Not when Lula and Greta were missing. I’d heard that the longer someone was missing, the greater the chance they weren’t coming back alive. Time was of the essence.
No one else was going to look for those two women. Could I really just wait?
The microwave dinged, and I removed the plate and started to bring it to the living room, but Marco was up and hopping to his small kitchen table.
“Ken said he’d look up Shane Jones and get back to me, but it might not be until tomorrow.” He glanced at the plate, then back at me. “You gonna eat too?”
“I ate earlier. I probably should get back to Hank. You and I can’t do anything more tonight, but I can ask Wyatt what he knows about Shane Jones and talk to Hank about his version of what happened to Lula and her parents.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You’ll fill me in on what you find out?”
I grinned. “Only if you tell me what you find out from Ken.”
“Deal.”
“I also have to find a ride to Hank’s, but I’m hoping Wyatt will play taxi.”
“I can take you home, Carly,” he said, his voice full of guilt.
“You need to stay here and rest, and Wyatt and I are due for a good chat anyway.”
His eyes twinkled. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
I groaned and walked into the living room to pick up the cordless phone. “You’re obviously feeling better.”
“I’ll be ready to go back out tomorrow,” he said quietly.
“Let’s just wait and see.” I called Wyatt’s home number and got his machine again, so I hung up and called Hank’s number.
“Hey, Hank,” I said when he answered. “Have you seen Wyatt this afternoon?”
“He came here lookin’ for you. Then Junior called and Wyatt took off.”
Frustration washed through me. Why hadn’t I gotten stranded in a town that had cell phone towers? “How long ago was that?”
“I dunno. Maybe fifteen minutes.”
I didn’t want to call Ruth, and Hank couldn’t drive. If push came to shove, I could get Marco to take me back, but he needed to stay home and rest. Selfishly, I wanted him to help me continue the invest
igation as soon as possible—which meant he needed to do as little as possible tonight. “And Wyatt didn’t say where he was going?”
“Nope, just took off like a bat out of hell.”
“Dammit.”
“Hey, Carly,” Marco said, sounding pretty pleased with himself. “I know where Wyatt is, and he’s not lookin’ like Mr. Mary Sunshine.”
Sure enough, when I opened the front door, he was bounding up the steps with a dark look on his face.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Wyatt. How did you find me?” I asked, but I knew the answer before I finished the question. According to Hank, Wyatt had bolted after talking to Junior. Junior had found out from Ginger.
He stopped on the porch a couple of feet in front of me. “What the hell’s goin’ on with Max? The tavern is closed, and when I went in to find out why, Max was drunk off his ass. But he was coherent enough to go on and on about how he fired you for stickin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I don’t want to miss the good stuff,” Marco called out good-naturedly. “Come on in, Wyatt.”
Wyatt gave me a look that let me know he was waiting for my permission, so I stepped aside and let him in. The motion jarred my arm, and I realized I was still holding the phone.
“Hank?” I said into the receiver. “Wyatt’s here. I’ll be home soon.”
“I thought you were workin’ tonight.”
“Not tonight. I’ll explain later.” I ended the call and replaced the receiver on the phone’s base as Wyatt took a seat at the kitchen table across from Marco.
Wyatt looked Marco dead in the eye. “What’s goin’ on with Max?”
So he wasn’t mad at me. He was upset about his brother.
Fair enough. So was I.
“Good question,” Marco said as he scooped up some mashed potatoes with his fork and took a bite. He was trying to play nonchalant, but it was plain as day that he was as upset as Wyatt.
“I know you and Carly went to see him this morning. Why’s he so upset that you’re lookin’ for Lula?”
“I don’t know,” Marco said, setting down his fork. “But you and I both know he only gets like this when something’s eatin’ at him.”
Wyatt was silent for a moment, then said in a voice so low I could barely hear him, “Do you think Max had something to do with Lula’s disappearance?”
“No,” Marco said confidently. “He would never hurt her.”
I didn’t believe it either, but I had to wonder why he was so upset. Everyone else believed she’d just taken off again. While he’d questioned why I thought differently, he hadn’t tried to dissuade me. He’d told me to keep it from Ruth. He hadn’t gotten truly upset until I said something about Neil Carpenter.
“But you think he’s involved anyway,” Wyatt said in a low growl.
Marco gave me a questioning look, then turned back to Wyatt and said, “We’ve come across some information about Lula that we’re not at liberty to divulge.”
The message was loud and clear. Do not tell Wyatt Lula was pregnant.
I expected Wyatt to get angry, but instead he tapped the tip of his finger against the tabletop and toggled his attention between the both of us.
“I wasn’t under the impression this was an official investigation,” he said in a lazy voice, yet I saw the tension in his shoulders.
“It’s not,” Marco conceded.
Wyatt released a short laugh. “You sure act like you’re treating this as an official investigation. You’re just not checkin’ with the sheriff’s department.” He glanced away before turning back to Marco, his jaw tight. “Is my brother a person of interest in Lula’s and Greta’s disappearances?”
I was taken aback that he knew about Greta, but then of course he did. He’d known where to find me because of Ginger. But his language—person of interest and official investigation—was even more jarring. This had started as Marco and I trying to find Lula, and he was right. It had turned into something more.
Marco started to say something, then swallowed it. “We’re not at liberty to say.”
Wyatt’s entire body vibrated with anger. “You’re supposed to be his best friend.”
Marco held his gaze. “Not all of us cover up crimes because of our personal relationships.”
Wyatt jumped to his feet, his chest heaving. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Roland.”
“Maybe I know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”
For several long seconds, I thought Wyatt was going to jump him, but then he took a step back, his hands clenched at his sides. “Carly. It’s time to go.”
My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“I said it’s time to go,” he said through gritted teeth.
My back stiffened. “That caveman attitude might work on the women in Drum, but it’s not gonna fly with me.”
“So you’re gonna stay here with Marco?” he asked. “Because Ginger made it sound like he was at death’s door, yet he seems just fine, eating his meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”
I stared at him, at a loss for words.
“Drummond,” Marco said in a calm voice, still seated in his chair. “Carly and I need to discuss our case. You may wait outside, and if she changes her mind about goin’ with you, so be it. Otherwise, I’ll take her to Hank’s, after I gain even more strength from my meatloaf and mashed potato fortification.” He flashed a grin.
Propping my hands on my hips, I shot Wyatt a deadly glare. “I won’t be changing my mind.”
“Nevertheless,” Marco said in a reasonable tone, “he can wait outside while we speak, and he’s free to stay on my property until we’re done.”
Wyatt looked furious, but he spun around and headed out the front door, slamming it behind him.
“I’m not leavin’ with him, Marco,” I spat in fury. “Telling him he can stay is a waste of breath.”
“He thinks we’re doin’ something dangerous and he’s worried about you. I have to wonder if he’s right.” He shot me a cockeyed grin. “I’m tired of craning my neck to look up at you. Sit down so we’re eye level.”
I flopped on the chair, still furious. I suspected Marco might be right, but that still didn’t give Wyatt the right to treat me like a child.
“Let’s talk about the case for a minute,” he said. “Wyatt accused us of considering Max a person of interest. Do you consider him a person of interest?”
“It would explain some of his behavior,” I said, running my hand through my short hair. “But I can’t believe he would hurt her,” I added. “Either of them.”
“You know you’re not supposed to try to make the narrative fit the clues, right?” he asked gently. He paused and then said in a softer tone, “If this were an official investigation, I’d never be allowed to take part. They’d say I’m too close to a person of interest, and they’d be right. We’re both too close to the situation. I’ve known Max for nearly twenty-five years, and I can’t believe he’d do anything like this either.”
Tears burned my eyes. “So what do we do? Do we stop looking?”
“No, but we need to be extra careful about how we handle Max. Be aware of our bias.”
I saw the agony in his eyes. This was killing him. “You’re a good man, Marco Roland, and a damned good detective. They’re crazy for not taking you more seriously.”
Emotion washed over his face, and he took a second before he said, “You’re not so bad yourself. We make a good team.” He shot a glance toward the front door. “He’s not wrong that this is gettin’ dangerous for you. Shane Jones was watchin’ us at the garage, and it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find us at the café. He could have followed you to Ewing. Maybe he even saw you at the nursing home. If he thinks you’re gettin’ close, you might be the next woman to disappear.”
A lump of fear filled my gut. “I know.”
“A sheriff deputy on medical leave disappearin’ is gonna cause a stir, especially since I was shot in the Carson
Purdy case and there are ties to Bart. But a waitress who’s been in town for a month? If she disappears, they won’t pay much attention. They’ll figure you left town just like you dropped in, which means you’re not safe.”
“You want me to stop lookin’ into this,” I said, surprised at how hurt I felt.
“No,” he said slowly. “I think it’s too late for that. You’re tied to it now, not to mention that I meant what I said—we make a good team.”
“But you want me to go with Wyatt. That’s why you told him to stay.”
“If someone shows up lookin’ for you, I’m not sure how much good I’ll be at protectin’ you.”
“Maybe I don’t need protecting,” I countered. “I’m a damned good shot. And let’s not forget that I was tryin’ to protect you from Carson.”
He flashed a tight grin. “True enough, but I still think you should go with him. Hank may be one-legged, but I suspect he won’t put up with bullshit on his property, which will make him one hell of a bulldog.”
Marco had no idea.
“And Wyatt would throw himself in front of a grenade to protect you.”
I suspected he was right. “I’m not sure if we’re going to get back together. If I leave with him for the sake of protection, then I’ll feel like I’m using him.”
“So tell him that up front.” He leaned closer. “Tell him you’re pissed about how he handled this, and you’re not sure it’s gonna work out. But I know Wyatt Drummond. He’s as loyal as the day is long. It’s one of his greatest strengths. It’s also his greatest weakness.”
The way he said that last sentence set off something in my brain. “You know more about what happened between Wyatt and his parents.”
“You need to talk to Wyatt about that, Carly.”
“I’ve tried,” I confessed. “He knows some deep, dark secrets about my past. Things that could get me killed, yet he won’t share a single thing with me.”
Worry crinkled his eyes. “You’re in another danger besides this situation?”
Her Scream in the Silence: Carly Moore #2 Page 23