A Cry in the Dark: Carly Moore Series

by Denise Grover Swank

  Time for us to put our cards on the table. “How did you know about the person from Georgia?” I asked.

  My question had caught him off guard.

  “Answer the question, boy,” Hank called out.

  “I heard rumors,” Wyatt said.

  “Did you find out from Seth?” Hank asked. “And don’t forget you swore to tell me the truth.”

  Wyatt released a bitter laugh. “You don’t fully trust me, but you trust me enough to tell you the truth. Do you realize how ridiculous that is?”

  “Answer the question,” Hank said.

  “No,” he said, his voice hard. “Seth didn’t tell me, and had I guessed what he was up to, I would have handcuffed him to me to keep him from gettin’ involved.”

  “That didn’t answer the question, now did it, boy?” Hank asked in a hard voice. “Who told you?”

  Wyatt hesitated. “I can’t tell you.”

  I watched the two men carefully, feeling like I was in the middle of an Old West standoff. Wyatt looked imposing with his stiff back and squared shoulders, while Hank’s face was set in stubborn determination.

  Hank finally said, “Get off my land.”

  Wyatt’s mouth dropped open. “You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

  Hank lifted his weapon. “Do I look like I’m kiddin’?”

  “Hank!” I shouted as I stepped between them. “Stop!”

  “Carly,” Wyatt said in a low growl, sliding up behind me. “Go get in my truck.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Wyatt, then back at Hank, who had lowered his weapon. “I can’t.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  I turned to face him. “I promised Hank I’d stay and take care of him.”

  Wyatt lowered his voice so Hank couldn’t overhear. “He’s kickin’ me off his property. I’m not comfortable leavin’ you here when I have no idea what really happened tonight.” He gently grasped my chin with his hand and turned my cheek to examine my bruises in the beam of his headlights. His eyes turned murderous. “Did Henderson do this to you?”

  My heartbeat took off like a jackrabbit. “No,” I whispered. “It wasn’t Dwight.”

  “But you know who it was.” It wasn’t a question.

  I lifted my chin and said with more confidence than I felt, “You don’t have to worry. Hank took care of him.”

  Wyatt’s eyes widened slightly, and he glanced up at Hank. “Where’s the body? Did he ask you to move it?”

  I shook my head. “No. He called someone to clean it up.”

  He was silent for several seconds. “There are only two people in these hills I can think of who’d be capable of such a thing, and Hank Chalmers would sooner cut off his other leg than call my father. Which means he called Bingham. What did Hank offer him? Is he gonna grow pot for him? Word has it that Bingham can’t duplicate Hank’s quality and people are complainin’.”

  “No. That’s not it.”

  When I didn’t look all that surprised by his question, he said, “But you know about Hank’s previous profession.”

  “He told me a short while ago,” I confessed. “But I’d heard some insinuations.”

  Wyatt cast a glance at the porch then back to me. “You’ve really worked a spell on the old man.” I expected him to be pissed, but he sounded like he was in awe.

  “He and Bingham worked out some kind of deal that involves Bingham leaving Hank’s kin alone.” I stared into Wyatt’s eyes. “Wyatt, Hank has claimed us both as kin.”

  Surprise covered his face. “Yet he’s kickin’ me off his land.”

  “Just tell him how you knew about the Atlanta dealer. He just needs to know he can trust you.”

  “I’ve never once done anything to harm him,” Wyatt spat. “Never.”

  “You’re the one who told me that trust has to be earned,” I countered. “Earn it by telling him how you found out.”

  “I can’t, Carly,” he said, his voice breaking. “I swore I wouldn’t tell and my word means something to me.”

  “Are you working with the sheriff?” I asked. “Or some kind of law enforcement to bring them down?”

  He released a hard scoff. “You’ve watched too many damn movies or TV shows. No, I’m not workin’ with law enforcement. They don’t give a shit about what I’m doin’. They don’t give a shit about anything that goes on up here unless it lines their pockets.” He pushed out a breath. “This is between you and me and no one else, do you understand?” He flicked another gaze at Hank. “No one else. The old man’s not gonna like that you have a secret of mine, and he’s liable to kick you out too if he finds out.”

  “You know I have secrets of my own, Wyatt,” I said. “You can trust me.”

  “I’m workin’ to bring down my father, which makes Hank’s accusation laughable. But I have people I’m using to do it, and I can’t reveal my sources.”

  “Your father had something to do with the outside drugs coming in?”

  “I don’t know. I doubt it, but that piece of information about the Atlanta deal came to me with the rest.”

  Was Carson the source of his intel? Was that why he wanted to talk to me?

  “Wyatt,” Hank called out. “You’ve had plenty of time to say your goodbyes. Go!”

  Wyatt grabbed my upper arms and looked into my eyes. “Check his blood sugar. When he gets mean, it’s often because it’s high.”

  “He wouldn’t really shoot you, would he?” I asked.

  “Nah,” he said softly. “He’ll come around in a few days, but that’s a few days that you’re on your own with him. And who’s gonna watch him while you’re at work? Who’s gonna watch over you while you’re sleepin’?”

  “No offense, Wyatt,” I said, “but you weren’t around when this happened. And the guy who broke in knew you wouldn’t be.”

  His expression darkened. “Who knew I was stayin’ here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Max. Ruth, although I don’t think she knew you were plannin’ to sleep over.”

  “That wouldn’t be hard for her to figure out. All she’d have to do is drive by.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You think Ruth had something to do with this?” I shook my head. “Look, I know you two don’t care for each other, but you have to admit that’s far-fetched. What would she have to gain?”

  “Maybe someone threatened her. Maybe they offered to pay her money. Is she talkin’ about makin’ any big purchases?”

  There was no way I was going to admit she’d been talking about buying a house less than eight hours ago. “You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

  “Am I? Because I’m not seein’ many trees, Carly, and I suspect this isn’t the last guy who’s gonna come after you. With me leavin’, the only thing standin’ between you and them is a one-legged man’s shotgun.”

  “That one-legged man’s shotgun saved me once.”

  “I’m not sure if I’d count on it happenin’ again.” He glanced at Hank and then back at me. “Do you know who broke in?”

  “A guy named Cecil Abrams. One of Bingham’s men.”

  He didn’t say anything, and his expression was inscrutable, so I wasn’t sure whether he was surprised.

  “Does that mean anything to you?” I asked.

  “Does it mean anything to you?” he parroted.

  I pushed out a defeated sigh. I didn’t want to fight with him. I was so sick of fighting, and I wanted Wyatt to be the man he seemed to be.

  His expression softened. “You’re exhausted. Go inside and get some sleep. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for work. You workin’ the evening shift?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Call me if you have any trouble. My home and garage numbers are on a paper taped to the side of the fridge.” With one final glance back at Hank, he got in his tow truck and drove away.

  Hank shook his head as I walked up to the porch. “There’s only one reason that boy wouldn’t answer your question. His daddy has something to do with this.”

  “
He can’t stand his father,” I said, wearily climbing the steps. “I don’t believe he’d ever turn on you, Hank. I think you’re the father he wished he had. Turning him away like that hurt him.”

  He was silent.

  “I’m tired and I know you have to be too. Let’s go inside and check your blood sugar before you go back to bed.”

  “I don’t need to check my damn blood sugar,” he grumped as he let me help him out of the chair.

  I handed him the crutches I’d brought out earlier. “Well, we’re gonna check it anyway.”

  I helped him into his room and onto the bed. A quick check showed his sugar was high, so he gave himself an insulin injection before getting under the covers.

  “Carly,” he said as I started to walk out of the room.

  I stopped and turned back to him.

  “I know you never asked to be part of all this, but you’re holdin’ your own, girl.”

  That was funny, because I felt like I was drowning.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  There was no way I was sleeping in Seth’s room after what had happened, so I grabbed my purse and set it on the floor next to the sofa, placing the gun Max had given me on the coffee table.

  My sleep was fitful. I kept having nightmares of Seth’s murder and Cecil Abrams breaking into my room.

  I finally sank into a deep sleep around six, and I woke up to the smell of coffee. Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows behind me.

  Had Wyatt come back?

  I sat up and went into the kitchen, shocked to see Hank sitting at the kitchen table. But then I wondered why I was so surprised. Last night he’d killed a man and held his own with a hardened criminal. A man like that wouldn’t hesitate to try getting around his house days after a major surgery.

  “You shouldn’t overdo it,” I said, heading straight for the coffee maker.

  “Girl, my leg didn’t get bad overnight. I was fighting ulcers and whatnot for months and gettin’ along with one leg. I just need to get my strength back up, which should happen sooner than later with your cookin’.”

  “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

  “Nine thirty.”

  “What?” Not counting my pity party in Little Rock and Gatlinburg, I hadn’t slept so late in years. “How long have you been up?”

  “A couple of hours.”

  “I’m sorry.” Some caretaker I was turning out to be.

  “You needed your sleep,” he said.

  “And so do you.” I opened the fridge and pulled out the creamer as well as the carton of eggs. “Do you want me to change your bandage before or after breakfast?”

  “After,” he said. “Give me something to look forward to.” He was trying to make a joke, but his voice was flat.

  “If you think I’m too much trouble, Hank, I can go back to the motel.”

  “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, so you hush about that,” he said as he picked up his coffee cup. “Those assholes are lookin’ for somethin’ they think Seth hid. They would’ve broken in whether you were here or not.”

  I made him fried eggs and toast, hoping it would be okay for his diabetes. I had no way of knowing. There were no bookstores in Drum and no internet in Hank’s house. I was stuck. We were stuck.

  After picking at my scrambled eggs, I cleaned up the kitchen, then got all the supplies ready to change his dressing. We decided to do it on his bed, but the sheets likely hadn’t been changed in a while, judging by the state of his room, so I stripped the bed and stuffed them in the washing machine with the sheets Wyatt had taken from Seth’s bed. After I covered the mattress with clean sheets from the closet, I set out several towels to help keep the mattress and new sheet from getting soiled. Hank refused help getting onto the bed, but he looked pretty worn out by the time he laid his head on his pillow.

  “I’m gonna try not to hurt you,” I said anxiously.

  He closed his eyes. “You don’t worry about that, girl. You’ll do fine.”

  I’d been counting on Wyatt to help me, and for some stupid reason, tears sprang to my eyes. But I blinked them away, telling myself I was being ridiculous. I had made my agreement with Hank before Wyatt had offered—insisted—on helping out. I could do this.

  Hank’s incision looked good and there was no sign of infection. The nurse had been much quicker and more efficient, but I was determined to do it right, even though I hated causing him pain. When I finally announced I was done, Hank just nodded and said, “You done good, girl.”

  I was sweating from exertion and nerves, but I didn’t want him to see it. “Why don’t you rest for a bit?”

  I knew I’d worn him out when he grunted and closed his eyes.

  The washing machine had finished, but the dryer didn’t work, so I carried the basket outside to hang the sheets on the clothesline I’d seen the day before.

  I was hanging the second sheet when I heard a car engine coming up the mountain.

  Shit.

  I hadn’t thought to bring my gun outside, and I was about to run in and get it when I caught sight of the faded red tow truck.

  Wyatt.

  He parked in front of the house, bold as could be, and got out of his truck and headed straight for me.

  “You’re playin’ with fire,” I said.

  He stopped in front of me and grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “What brings you up the mountain?” I asked.

  He studied my face, still smiling. “You.”

  Flutters rippled through my stomach. Turned out a man wanting to defend my honor did funny things to my hormones. But I had to be honest with myself—this went way beyond hormones. I admired the way his strength was tempered by gentleness. The devotion with which he’d thrown himself into mentoring a teenage boy in need of guidance. And I couldn’t help but respond to the way he cared for all of the people around him, from Seth to Hank to me.

  Wyatt Drummond was a man I could deeply care for, and it scared the crap out of me. I lowered my gaze, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

  Sensing my change in demeanor, his tone softened. “Did you change Hank’s dressing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry you had to do it alone.” He glanced up at the house. “He doin’ okay?”

  “I wasn’t as gentle or as quick as the nurse,” I said. “He’s resting.”

  “I’m sure you did fine,” he said softly. Then he lifted my chin so that I was looking into his warm eyes.

  An electrical current ran from his hand down to my core, and my mouth parted slightly as I gasped in surprise.

  His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he asked in a husky tone, “Did you have any trouble after I left?”

  His hand gently cradled my jaw, sending another flutter through my insides.

  “No” was all I could seem to get out. Wyatt Drummond was doing strange things to my mental capacity, and all I could think about was whether I’d let him kiss me if he closed the short distance from his mouth to mine.

  I took a slow step back, and his hand dropped to his side. I wondered if I’d see aggravation or disappointment on his face, but all I saw was warmth and understanding.

  It made me like him even more.

  “I’ve got to finish the laundry.” I gestured lamely at the basket of sheets. Then, to remind us both that my situation was temporary, I asked, “Any word on the estimate for my car?”

  He grimaced. “We both know it’s not worth the trouble. Your best bet is for me to sell it to a junkyard for you. In the meantime, I started workin’ on Hank’s car last night so you can get to work and back and haul him around if need be. I should have it up and runnin’ by tomorrow.”

  That explained the open hood of the car in the garage last night.

  He gave me a soft smile. “I’ll go start workin’.”

  He headed toward the garage, and I heard the sounds of metal clanging as I went inside. Under the guise of cleaning, I searched for any evidence o
r drugs Seth might have found. Nearly two hours later, I’d come up with a big fat nothing.

  I glanced at the clock. It was close to one, so I made sandwiches for lunch. After, I handed one to Hank, who was in his recliner watching a game show.

  “I know that boy’s out there in my garage,” he barked.

  “And you’re not kicking him off your land?”

  He frowned. “He’s out there for you, so it don’t seem right.”

  “You mean workin’ on your car so we can get around?” I asked.

  He glanced up at me with a knowing look. “We both know it’s more than that.”

  He was right. We did.

  I took the second sandwich out to the garage. I considered bringing my own to eat with him, but I couldn’t do it. Eating together was too familiar, and while my heart seemed ready to make that leap, my head knew it was a bad idea.

  Wyatt grinned when he stopped and watched me walk across the yard toward him. When I reached the edge of the garage, he said, “You’re feedin’ me again.”

  “Well, you are workin’ on a car for me to use,” I said, putting the plate on a shelf since his hands were dirty. “It’s the least I can do.” I gestured to the exposed engine. “How’s it looking? Think I’ll be able to drive it to work?”

  A frown creased his forehead. “Hopefully tomorrow. The source who gave me the information about the dealer from Atlanta wants to meet with me in Ewing this afternoon. I plan to pick up a few parts while I’m there.”

  I suppressed a gasp. “Do you think your source has information about Seth’s murderer?”

  “I don’t know. After last night, I hate to leave you, but I think it’s worth going. I don’t want to leave you up here without a car, and since I’m your ride, Junior’s wife is comin’ by to stay with Hank so I can get you back into town. In fact,” he said slowly, as though unsure if he should suggest it, “I was wondering if you’d like to come to Ewing with me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How’d you work all that out without a phone?”

  Instead of taking offense, he laughed. “I used the radio in my tow truck. Ginger should be here in about a half hour. I was just about to come up to the house and tell you.” He grimaced looking pointedly at the sandwich. “I was also gonna ask if you wanted to grab lunch, but you beat me to it.”