She shrugged. “I forget. Something to do with business, but Bart told Max he’d teach him everything he needed to know about business. Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s not, but Max never went back.”
“How old was he?” I asked, wondering what kind of relationship Max had with his father. I knew what it was like to have a manipulative father, one who bent and twisted you to suit his own wishes. Did he regret coming back all those years ago?
She released a small chuckle. “Just turned twenty-one. Barely legal to drink in his own establishment. But this happened before they moved the entrance to Balder Mountain. Back when we put up and fed a bunch of the tourists. Max made good money before the big move. Drum’s a whole lot quieter now.”
Last night had been nothing but locals, which made me wonder who had been staying in the other motel units besides Jerry and Big Joe. Maybe it really was a by-the-hour kind of place. The elderly man had mentioned a prostitute, after all. Then a new thought hit me. “Did you work for Wyatt?”
She hesitated. “Yep.”
“How long?”
“A couple of years before his arrest. Max took over before the case went to trial.”
Something about the way she was acting made me ask, “Did you and Wyatt used to date?”
She hesitated again. “Yeah, but not for long, and only while he was on a break from Heather.”
“Was Heather the woman his family paid to leave town?”
“That’s the one. Bart and Emily never approved of Heather, and they were glad to help speed her way along.”
I had more questions, but I felt weird asking them, especially since I felt a twinge of something that felt a lot like jealousy.
What the hell was that about?
Sure, Wyatt had been nice and respectful up at the lookout, but that had changed before we hit the town limits. I had never been a woman foolish or masochistic enough to fall for a man who wasn’t crazy about me.
That’s not true, a little voice said in my head. You believed Jake.
Jake didn’t count. He had lied through his teeth, weaving together a story about the life we’d led together, the partnership we’d build. I’d believed him, but all along he’d been courting my father, not me.
Chapter Ten
Thankfully, Ruth didn’t pick up on my thoughts. We ate our breakfast sandwiches and drank our coffee as she told me about her life in Drum.
Although I tried to keep the conversation on her as much as possible, she asked me plenty of questions too. Which meant I had to lie. I told her I’d grown up in Michigan and followed a man to Atlanta. I’d worked retail and some waitressing in the beginning between my own men to help with rent. I hated to consider how Ruth would feel if she ever found out the truth, but if she did, hopefully she’d know I’d lied out of necessity. Each lie about my past not only killed part of my soul but killed off the person I’d been piece by piece.
She drove into Greeneville and headed straight for the hospital. As soon as it came into view, I started to regret eating that breakfast sandwich. Ruth had kept me busy talking, which had kept me from thinking too much about the reason I’d come to Greeneville—I was here to see Hank Chalmers and shatter what was left of his heart.
“You okay?” she asked, worry in her eyes.
I swallowed. “No, but that won’t stop me.”
She gave me a warm smile. “I guessed that about you.” She turned into the parking lot. “Do you want me to come in to help?”
The thought of doing this alone terrified me, but I didn’t want anyone else to hear what I had to say, and it would have been rude to invite her in only to ask her to leave. “I’ll manage.”
“You got cell service here?” she asked, pulling up to the circle drive in front of the entrance.
How had I forgotten about that? I snatched up my purse and dug out my cell phone, my heart jumping when I saw four bars of service. “Yes!”
She chuckled. “Bet you’ve taken cell phone service for granted up to now, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“Take my number so you can call or text when you’re done,” she said. “I have some errands to run, but I’ll come get you as soon as I can.”
“No worries,” I said. “I can wait for you in the cafeteria or the lobby. I’m grateful you went out of your way to bring me.”
“Don’t think a thing about it.”
She told me her phone number, and I sent her a text to make sure I’d gotten it right.
“Got it!” she said, then turned somber. “I feel it’s only fair to warn you that Hank is known for being a cranky bastard.”
Great. I could only imagine how well he’d take this news. But I’d made a promise and I intended to see it through. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Tell him that Franklin and I are so sorry about Seth, and that we’ll do anything we can to help.”
A lump formed in my throat and I nodded, croaking out a “yeah” as I climbed out of the car.
Ruth drove off as I approached the information desk in the lobby, trying to pull myself together. It struck me that I’d been so worried about getting here, I hadn’t thought enough about how Mr. Chalmers would react. Would he want to talk to me? Would he be upset that I’d withheld information from the sheriff?
There was only one way to find out.
The elderly woman at the front desk looked up Hank Chalmers’ room number, then told me how to get there. Stalling, I considered getting flowers or something from the gift shop, but it felt wrong. There was something disrespectful about handing him a smiley face mug with daisies and then saying, “Oh, by the way, I saw the men who shot your grandson and held his hand while he died.”
No. The only thing I could give him was the truth about what had really happened to Seth. I suspected it was the only thing that really mattered.
I got on the elevator and pushed the button to his floor. When it opened, a brown-haired man in a dress shirt and jeans bumped into me. I nearly called him out for his rudeness, but his hard brown eyes stopped me. He looked to be in his mid-thirties—definitely old enough to have manners—but I didn’t feel like saying so. At the moment, I didn’t have enough gumption to hold my own if he put up an argument.
I headed down the hall, and when I reached Hank’s room, I stood outside his door and took slow, deep breaths to calm down. I was scared to death and second-guessing every decision I’d made in the past twenty-four hours, but I was here. There was no backing down now.
Before I could change my mind, I knocked on the door. “Hello?” I called through the partially open doorway. “Mr. Chalmers?”
“I told you I ain’t got nothin’ to say,” a man called out.
I pushed it open anyway and walked in. An elderly man sat in the bed, the back upright. He was hooked up to several machines with wires attached to his chest and tubes in his arms, and a hospital tray was placed across his bed as well as a tray of barely touched food.
He waved his hand in dismissal and turned from me. “I’m not feelin’ up to physical therapy today. Just talk to Nurse Patty. She said it was okay.”
“Mr. Chalmers…” My voice sounded croaky, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m not here to take you to physical therapy. My name is Carly, and I’m here about Seth.”
He turned his head to face me. “What about ’im?” he asked belligerently. “I already told you people he wasn’t mixed up in drugs.”
I swallowed, feeling lightheaded. “I’m not with the sheriff either.” I took a breath. “I was with Seth when he died.”
His eyes slowly widened, and his mouth formed an O. “You’re the one who found him.”
I nodded, tears filling my eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“And you came to see me?” he asked in surprise.
I moved closer to the side of his bed, grasping the handrail to keep myself upright. “Yes, sir. I hope that’s all right.”
Tears filled his eyes and he reached his wrinkled, age-spot-covered hand toward me.
I grasped it and held it tight, his grief breaking my heart.
“He loved you,” I forced past the lump in my throat, and tears leaked out the corners of my eyes.
“He was alive when you found him?” he asked, his hand beginning to shake.
I nodded. “He was. I’m so sorry. I tried to stop the bleeding, but he’d been shot twice at a close range.”
His chin quivered, and then he said, “The deputy said they didn’t know what happened. He said you didn’t see nothing.”
I hesitated, wondering how to broach this, then decided to tell him everything from the beginning. “I was asleep in my room when I heard a cry. I jumped out of bed and peeked through the blinds. That’s when I saw two men dragging Seth out of a motel room. They threw him down to the ground.”
“What was he doin’ at the Alpine Inn?” he asked. “And in a room?”
“I don’t know, sir,” I said. “Maybe the rest will help you figure it out.”
“Go on, then,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Seth was on his knees while the two men faced him. One man was pointing a gun at him. He asked Seth where the stash was. Seth told him he didn’t know what he was talking about. A third man came from Seth’s motel room, saying he’d found a camera but that the stash was still missing, and Seth kept claiming he didn’t know anything. They started kicking in doors trying to find it, but when they got close to mine, I set off my car alarm, hoping they’d run off and leave Seth alone.” A lump clogged my throat, and I had to force out, “Instead they shot him.” I started to cry.
Mr. Chalmers sat still in his bed, watching me with his bloodshot eyes. “Go on when you’re ready.”
I nodded and grabbed a tissue off his nightstand. After I dabbed my eyes and took a breath, I said, “As soon as they took off, I ran out to Seth. He was still alive. I wanted to get help—I’d already tried calling 911, but the phone in my room didn’t work and I didn’t have any cell reception.” I released a tiny sob. “He begged me not to leave him, and there was so much blood…” I paused. “He asked me to give you a message.”
Mr. Chalmers put his hand over mine, then nodded, giving me permission to continue.
“He said to tell you that he had to try. He knew how much it would hurt, and he was sorry.”
His shoulders shook with a suppressed sob, and I considered stopping, but I decided it would be better for both of us if I let it all out, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“He also said that he had evidence, but when I told him I’d call the sheriff, he panicked. Said the man who’d shot him was a deputy, and some of the other cops are also involved.”
The older man nodded but didn’t say anything.
“He had some numbers written on his hand. He showed them to me, but I have no idea what they mean. I figured it might have something do with the camera. Does that mean anything to you?”
He shook his head and my heart sank.
“He was getting weaker, and I’d called out for help, but no one was coming, so I screamed and Max came running out of the tavern. By the time he reached us, Seth was dead.” I broke down, starting to sob. “I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Chalmers.”
Mr. Chalmers patted the back of my hand with his free one, tears streaming down his cheeks. “This wasn’t your doin’. This wasn’t your fault.”
“I set off that alarm. I made them shoot him.”
“No, girl. Don’t you take that blame upon yourself. It was those men’s doin’, not yours.”
“If I’d gone out there…” I lifted my gaze to his. “I should have tried to stop them. I had a gun.”
“If you’d threatened them, you’d be dead too and I wouldn’t know the truth of it. You couldn’t take on three men with a gun.” His eyes turned watery. “You done him a good deed. If they’d taken him, they would have beaten and tortured him until he finally confessed.” A tear slipped down his cheek. “And that boy was stubborn, boy howdy, was that boy stubborn.”
I covered my mouth with my hand to contain my sobs. “If I’d only…”
“If you’d only what?” he asked in a hard tone. “Seth brought this on ’imself, and I guarantee that he wouldn’t want you to be takin’ on the blame. He knew what he was doin’, even if I begged him not to do it.” He shook his head, then held my gaze with his watery eyes. “Once my grandson was shot in the chest, there was no savin’ him. Not that far up the mountain.” He took a deep breath and his shoulders shook again. “But knowin’ he didn’t die alone…thank you.”
My chest heaved as I tried to control my tears.
We sat there in silence for a moment, both of us crying. He mourned the grandson he’d obviously deeply loved while I ached over a boy’s death and his grandfather’s deep loss. After several long minutes, Mr. Chalmers said, “You told the sheriff he was dead when you reached him.”
I cringed. “Not exactly. This morning, I told the detective that Seth had asked me to tell you his goodbyes, but they don’t know that I saw him getting shot or that I saw the killers hightailing it in a red truck driven by a fourth man.”
“You kept that from them to protect yourself?” he asked.
I hesitated. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered that, but I wanted to talk to you before I told them anything else. After what Seth said about the shooter, I didn’t think the deputies would have justice in mind.” I squeezed his hand. “I was hoping you could tell me what I should do.”
His eyes widened in surprise, but sorrow quickly engulfed it. “Only you can decide that, girl.”
“Do you know what evidence he had? I think it involved drugs.”
“I’m sure it was drugs,” he said in disgust.
“Maybe we could tell the state police.”
Mr. Chalmers shook his head. “I don’t have any idea what evidence he was talkin’ about. I only know he was trying to implicate the person who sold his mother the drugs that killed her.”
“Your daughter?” I asked.
He nodded. “My Barb. She was a user back when she was a teen, but she got clean and stayed that way until a couple of years ago. Got mixed up with a man who started her usin’ again.” He shook his head. “Stopped takin’ care of her boy, so I moved him in with me. She lived there too, but she wasn’t around much since I didn’t allow her drugs in my home. Seth always thought his mother would come around, but she died of an overdose. The toxicology report said it was poisoning from some unusual drug. Nothin’ from around Drum. Folks say it was a new poison outta Atlanta, Seth was tryin’ to find out who sold it to her.”
“Do you think he found his proof?” I asked.
“Sounds like it if they shot him.” He was quiet for a moment. “If you ain’t tellin’ the sheriff, then you can’t tell no one, you hear? That deputy didn’t act alone, which means two other somebodies in that town took part in murdering my grandson. Three if you count the driver. If they figure out you know something, they’ll show up wantin’ to kill you too.”
A tingle of fear shot up my spine. “The sheriff’s department considers me a person of interest.”
His mouth parted. “Why?”
“I’m from Atlanta, and the sheriff’s department heard someone from Atlanta was doing a drug drop last night.”
His eyes narrowed. “Whatcha doin’ in Drum if you’re from Georgia?”
I explained the breakdown and the fact that Wyatt had towed me into town. I told him about Max and the temporary job at the tavern.
“You’re sure they’re lookin’ into you?” he asked.
“The detective told me not to leave town. Max was the one who told me about the Atlanta person.”
He nodded again, his lips pressed together. “They’re keepin’ a close watch on you.”
“To find out if my story changes? To find out what I know?”
“To find out if you can implicate them.”
If they’d killed a boy they knew, a local boy, just to keep their secrets, what was to stop them from killing me? Based on t
he story I’d told everyone, I was the kind of person who wouldn’t be missed.
I felt like I was going to be sick. “So the sheriff’s department is corrupt. Not just one deputy?”
“Not all of the deputies, but enough of them that you can’t trust any of ’em.”
“You’re right,” I whispered. “They mean to kill me.”
Mr. Chalmers squeezed my hand again, and I noticed the unshed tears lining his lower eyelids. “No. You keep tellin’ ’em that you saw nothin’ and Seth only lived long enough to give you a message for me that he loved me. Nothin’ else.”
“If I don’t tell anyone else what I know, they’ll get away with murder,” I said. “The man who killed your grandson in cold blood deserves to pay.” The need to make them pay burned through my blood. My mother had been buried years ago, and no one would ever be able to prove her accident had been anything but. But Seth had staked his life on making his mother’s killer’s pay, and according to him, he had found the evidence he needed.
Maybe I could find justice for him.
Maybe it would give me a taste of the peace that eluded me.
He leaned his head back on the bed. “Oh, to be young and idealistic.” He closed his eyes and tears streamed down his cheeks. “This is the way of the world, girl. The evil rule the earth and profit from abusing it.”
My mind shifted to my father. To Jake. To the plans I’d heard them make on the eve of my wedding. “It’s not right.”
“Spoken like a dreamer,” he said, a wry smile cracking his lips. “Sometimes you have to know when to give in. What’s one more poor mountain boy who likely would have lived and died in Drum? That’s exactly what happened to him, only he had fifty years of misery and bondage chopped off his life sentence.”
I might have believed his speech if not for the tears tracking down his cheeks.
I sat in the chair next to him, holding his hand. Hank Chalmers might be willing to accept his grandson’s death as another cruel hand dealt by fate, but I wasn’t.
I would dig up whatever evidence Seth had found and hand it over to the state police myself.
A Cry in the Dark: Carly Moore Series Page 11