A Cry in the Dark: Carly Moore Series

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Why isn’t Carly joinin’ this chat?” Carson asked, his words coming in pants. “Seems a bit rude of us not to include her.”

  “Well, now,” Wyatt said in a drawl. “Carly’s more of an indoors kind of girl and she’s not used to hikin’, so she’s conservin’ her breath.”

  “Still,” Carson said, his voice faint. “I’d just as soon hear from her.”

  I hurried now, because Carson had clearly figured out our plan. Hopefully he thought I’d stayed hidden in the trees.

  It took me several more minutes to make it to the trail entrance, but once I did, I realized what Carson had been up to while he was squatting next to the truck. The tires on the passenger side were completely flat. There was no way I was driving anywhere.

  Hurrying around the front of the truck, I found Marco lying on the asphalt parking lot, completely still.

  “Marco!” I whisper-shouted as I dropped down next to him.

  He released a low groan and I nearly cried with relief. His left thigh was bloody, and he was bleeding from the abdomen.

  “I need to call for help,” I whispered. “How do I use the radio in your car?”

  “Button…” he said, then released a loud cry of pain.

  “Shh!” I whispered, feeling like a first-class bitch, but I suspected Carson was on his way down, and if he thought Marco was still alive, he wouldn’t hesitate to put another bullet in him.

  Dashing for the driver’s door of the sheriff vehicle, I formulated a new plan. I’d get Marco into his SUV, then take him to the sheriff station in Ewing. Surely there were some good deputies in the county.

  But as soon as I got into the driver’s seat, I realized my plan wasn’t going to work. The keys weren’t in the ignition, and the radio’s mic cord had been cut.

  I ran to Carson’s truck, and I wasn’t surprised when I found it locked. I had no doubt Carson had taken both sets of keys.

  We were in big trouble.

  The county road was fairly close, but we were miles from either town, and I hadn’t seen any other traffic when Wyatt and I had driven out of Drum.

  Tears burned my eyes, but I stood up and forced myself to square my shoulders. Charlene Moore wasn’t going down without a fight.

  I hurried back to Marco, and squatted next to him, feeling terrible that I hadn’t bothered to assess his wounds.

  “Did you call for help?” he whispered.

  “He cut the radio mic,” I said. “Do you have the keys? They aren’t in the ignition.”

  His head barely moved with a shake. “Left… them…in…”

  “I know this is against the rules, but can I borrow your gun? I only have four bullets and I’m not the best shot when stressed.” I vowed to book some time at the firing range first chance I got.

  “He…took…”

  “He took it.” Tears filled my eyes again. Things kept going from bad to worse.

  “Carly!” Carson called out from the trail, and I knew he was close.

  “I’m going to move you, Marco,” I said. “I’m scared he’s going to shoot you again, so I want to put you in the backseat of your car. It’s not perfect, but…”

  “No. Go hide,” he whispered.

  I would, but not yet. Marco wouldn’t have gotten shot if he hadn’t tried to help me. I wasn’t leaving him here as a sitting duck.

  “This might hurt.” Grabbing his legs at his ankles, I started dragging him across the pavement.

  He released a loud groan. Not only was I possibly making things worse, I’d just pointed a big neon sign at him that said, Marco’s still alive. Still, I’d started this and couldn’t stop now.

  I opened the back door of Marco’s SUV. Slipping my arms under his armpits, I hauled him to the door and propped him up against the back tire, not an easy feat considering he probably weighed nearly twice what I did. I was trying to figure out how I was going to get him up to the backseat when I heard Carson say, “Carly, come on now. No need to hide from me.”

  He hadn’t reached the entrance to the trail, but he was close.

  “Do you have any other weapons?” I whispered.

  “In…the back. But it’s locked.”

  Carson had the keys.

  “I’ve only got four bullets, Marco.” My voice broke.

  He looked up at me and a smile tugged at his lips. “I guess you’d better make ’em count.”

  I nodded and then crept to the front of the SUV and peered around the edge. Carson was standing at the entrance to the trail, his gaze scanning the area. His rifle was slung over his shoulder.

  “Max sent me to fetch you, girl,” he said as he strode toward the tow truck. “Come on out. Let’s talk.”

  I knew better than to take his bait. He wanted me to tell him where I was so he could shoot me.

  How did I get us out of this?

  Carson was waiting for an opening to kill me. I knew I could do the same to him. I could save myself, Marco, and Wyatt, who was still somewhere up the mountain and likely to put himself in danger to keep me safe. But I couldn’t bring myself to kill Carson in cold blood—then I wouldn’t be any better than him and the men who’d killed Seth. Yet I couldn’t figure out any other way to end this.

  “Carson!” Wyatt shouted from somewhere up the trail. “Let her go!”

  Carson spun around to face him.

  “Take the shot,” Marco said.

  “I can’t,” I whispered. But Wyatt was unarmed, and Carson had a rifle. Could I afford not to? Wouldn’t that be akin to letting him kill Wyatt?

  I pulled the gun out from my waistband and stood up. “Carson. It’s me you want. I need your word you’ll let everyone else go.”

  “Carly, no!” Wyatt shouted from up the trail.

  Carson tugged the rifle off his shoulder and aimed it into the trees.

  “No!” I shouted, pointing my handgun at Carson. “It’s me you want. Leave him alone!”

  “I can take care of you both,” he said, and a shot went off, the boom echoing around us.

  I squeezed the trigger, aiming for Carson, but he remained standing. I could only hope his shot had missed too.

  “Carly!” Wyatt shouted, sounding panicked.

  Carson spun around and pointed his rifle at me, then fired off two shots, but I’d ducked behind the SUV as soon as I saw him turning.

  “That’s five,” Marco said with a grimace.

  “What?” I asked, shaking my head. I slid toward Marco at the back of the SUV.

  “He has ten shots. He’s used five.” When I gave him a blank look, he said, “I know his gun. The cartridge holds ten rounds.”

  “If it was a new one,” I said. And I only had three shots left. I couldn’t waste another.

  Peering around the back of the car, I spotted Carson standing halfway between the tow truck and the woods, seemingly torn about which direction to take.

  “Where’d you get the gun, Carly?” he said into the air.

  “Don’t answer,” Marco whispered. “Try again.”

  “I can’t kill him in cold blood, Marco,” I whispered back.

  “It’s not cold blood when he’s actively tryin’ to shoot you first,” he said.

  He was right. If he had the chance, he’d kill all three of us. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to make the remaining three shots count.

  Leaning around the back of the deputy’s SUV, I lifted my gun to aim at Carson, but he was gone.

  Panic gripped me and I held my handgun up to my chest, the muzzle pointed away from me and up to the sky. I needed to be prepared to shoot, but I had to be sure Wyatt wasn’t in the line of fire.

  “Shit,” Marco muttered under his breath, and I turned to see Carson walking around the front of the tow truck, grinning as he strode toward us, his rifle butt tucked under his armpit, the barrel aimed at Marco. I realized I was concealed in shadow and Marco was easy pickings. Without hesitation, I lifted my gun and pointed it at Carson’s chest and pulled the trigger.

  Carson grunted, then r
eleased a chuckle. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Carly.”

  How could he still be talking and advancing toward us? He’d sounded like he was in pain, but he was still moving.

  Marco was stretching his hand toward me in desperation, and I knew he wanted the gun. There was no denying he was a better shot, but there wasn’t time.

  “I’ll go with you,” I called out. “Unlock your truck and I’ll go with you.”

  “I don’t want to take you with me,” Carson said, his voice tight. “I want you dead.”

  “Leave her alone, Carson,” someone said from behind me. My brain recognized the voice and struggled to understand how its owner had gotten here—until I adjusted my position slightly and caught sight of the station wagon parked at the opening of the parking lot.

  “Leave her alone, Carson,” Jerry repeated in a trembling voice, holding up a handgun with a hand as shaky as mine felt. He stood at the end of Carson’s pickup, and he looked out of breath.

  Carson released a short laugh and turned his attention to Jerry. “What are you doin’ here, old man? Go home.”

  “You leave her alone. Carly’s a nice girl,” Jerry said.

  “Don’t make me sorry I didn’t finish beatin’ your ass last year,” Carson sneered, aiming his gun at Jerry. “You worthless piece of shit.”

  Anger erupted in my chest, and I stood, pointing the gun at Carson’s chest. “Don’t you call him that!”

  Carson swung his attention to me, grinning like a fool. “There you are.”

  He slowly lifted his gun and Jerry pulled his trigger, the shot reverberating in the cold night air. Carson remained standing, unfazed. “When was the last time you went to the firing range, old man?”

  Jerry’s next round whizzed past its mark too, and Carson whipped back to shoot him.

  I pulled my trigger, this time hitting Carson in the arm.

  Crying out, he wheeled back to face me, and I fired another shot, hitting him dead center in his chest again.

  I was out of bullets, but I’d just made a direct hit. Surely this was over.

  But Carson hunched over, as though catching his breath, then stood, his face contorted in pain.

  “Bulletproof vest,” Marco muttered.

  Dammit. I’d just wasted three of my four shots, and even though his left arm was bleeding, I doubted it was going to stop him from killing us all.

  “Leave her alone!” Jerry shouted, moving closer. “I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else!”

  “I think I’ve heard enough,” Carson said with a grunt. He was spinning around to make a run for Jerry, when something flew out of the air and struck Carson in the side of the head. Both the object and Carson fell to the pavement, and I realized it was a baseball-sized rock.

  Wyatt burst out from around the front of the tow truck and sprinted for Carson, who lay moaning on his side. Wyatt picked up the rifle, tugging it from Carson’s loose grasp, and pointed it at the dazed man. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

  Jerry closed in, pointing his gun at Carson’s face, his hand shaking so badly I wasn’t sure if he’d hit his target even at the four-foot range. “You’re gonna pay for what you did. You’re gonna pay for bringin’ that poison to Drum. You’re the one who killed that boy and his mother. You didn’t pull the trigger, but you’re still responsible. Just like you killed George when he said he was gonna turn you in.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance and Carson pushed to a sitting position, blood running down the side of his head.

  “Don’t do it, Jerry,” Wyatt said. “You think this is what you want, but it’ll eat you up inside. Let the justice system do its job.”

  Carson released a laugh. “You think I’ll stay in jail? I work for Bart Drummond.”

  “Who will turn on you in a heartbeat,” Wyatt said with a sneer. “You’re about to bring disgrace to the Drummond name, and he will cut you off with a chainsaw. Didn’t you learn anything after what he did to me?”

  The sirens were closer, and Wyatt was still holding Carson’s gun, so I walked over and reached for it, tugging slightly. Wyatt glanced at me, his eyes intense with fear and anger, but he must have known what I was doing because he released his grasp, letting me take the weapon. We both knew we couldn’t risk him getting in trouble for holding a gun, even if it was to protect all of us. Marco would back me up and confirm that it belonged to Carson.

  Flashing lights appeared at the entrance to the parking lot and three sheriff cars pulled in.

  “It’s over, Carson,” Wyatt announced with barely restrained rage. “And you’re about to go away for a very long time.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Carson launched forward, tackling Jerry to the ground, and wrestled for his gun.

  I tried to point the rifle at Carson’s head, but they were rolling around too much for me to get a clear shot.

  The sheriff SUVs came to a screeching halt, and deputies poured out of the vehicles, surrounding us.

  “Freeze! Everyone put your hands up!” a deputy shouted.

  I dropped the gun and threw my hands up, but Carson and Jerry were still tangled up and thrashing around.

  A gunshot went off in their heap and both men went still.

  “Jerry!” I cried out.

  The deputies rushed at the two men and rolled Carson onto his back. The handgun clattered to the pavement. The blank look in Carson’s eyes, along with the bloody hole under his chin, made it clear he was dead.

  Beside me, Wyatt still had his hands raised high, but as I turned my gaze on him, he lowered his arms and scooped me into his embrace, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Marco shouted at the deputies who had trained their guns at us. “Don’t shoot! They’re with me!”

  Wyatt tilted my head back and looked deep into my eyes. “I thought he was gonna shoot you. I thought I was gonna lose you before we could even see where this thing between us might go.”

  “I’m fine. You’re fine,” I said with a soft smile. “We’ll be okay.”

  He nodded, his jaw tight, like he couldn’t quite believe it was true.

  “I think we both deserve a little happiness, don’t you?” I whispered with tears in my eyes. “I’d like to find my happiness with you.”

  His eyes turned glassy and he nodded. “I want to find it with you too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The sun shone brightly for Seth’s graveside service, warming the nearly two hundred people who had come to pay their respects.

  Thankfully Hank and Wyatt had mended fences between them, as Hank really needed friends right now. And not just for moral support. He’d insisted on standing for the short service, so Wyatt and I stood at his sides, helping him to stay upright.

  Wyatt made his way to the front and said a few words about Seth. How hardworking and driven he’d been. How loyal he was to friends and family. How he’d wanted to go to college to become a lawyer, not because he wanted to leave Drum, but because he wanted to return to his home and fight for justice. How Seth had inspired everyone around him to become a better person. Wyatt included.

  “Seth Chalmers’ life was cut way too short,” Wyatt finished, his voice tight. “But his memory will live on.”

  The minister said a prayer, and then Hank picked up a pile of dirt and threw it on the casket in the grave. Wyatt and I did the same. We stood beside Hank as the townspeople offered their condolences.

  Hank made it through about fifty people before his endurance gave out, and then Wyatt helped him into his wheelchair.

  After we got Hank settled, we gave Hanks some space and stepped several feet to his right. Wyatt wrapped an arm around my back and tugged me tightly to him.

  I glanced up at him and smiled. My chest warmed when he smiled back.

  Max, Ruth, and Tiny came through the line together, telling Hank how sorry they were for his loss. He told them he’d heard about Bitty and offered them the same.

  When they reached us,
Max stared at his brother for several long seconds before he turned to me. “Now that the danger’s over, I’m hopin’ you’ll stay. Drum’s not usually this excitin’.”

  I smiled. “I was going to wait until tonight to tell you all, but yes. I’m staying.”

  Ruth beamed and Tiny looked happy enough to burst. Seeing their reaction reassured me that I’d made the right decision. I’d lived most of my life alone, and now that I’d gotten another taste of real friendship, I wasn’t so willing to walk away. I needed people to care about—and people to care about me. Living with Rose had taught me that, and while I’d left Arkansas hoping I could return, I realized this was where I belonged—among people who had my back. And in a town lost in time, with only five security cameras. A feature Wyatt had been quick to point out.

  “No CCTV,” he’d said. “No facial recognition software. Drum, Tennessee, is the last place your father would look for you, and he won’t find you if you’re completely off the grid.”

  I’d already decided to stay, but that was like the cherry on top.

  Max gave me a hug. “I’m glad you’re stayin’. After Carson…”

  The investigation was ongoing, but the general consensus with the sheriff department was that Carson had gotten tired of taking orders from Bart Drummond. He’d been the mastermind behind the new drug trade to Drum, bringing the more deadly drugs from Atlanta, even arranging for Dwight’s job at the mortuary. He’d hoped to run Bart into bankruptcy, and eventually kill Bingham and take over his territory. I had been cleared of any wrongdoing.

  It sounded like a great theory, but part of me couldn’t help wondering if Bart knew more than he’d let on.

  I told Detective White about Seth’s video account and gave her the login information. She told me that she’d turn it over to the state troopers, but she suspected there wasn’t anything they could do to recall the deleted footage. Wyatt had sent her the corrupted video file we’d saved, and she said her team would try to recover it, but they weren’t hopeful.

  “But I’m not lettin’ this go,” she’d said. “I know there’s more corruption in this department, and I plan to root it out.”