Buried in Secrets: Carly Moore #4

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Hank, it’s me.”

  He must have heard the panic in my voice because his tone changed. “What’s wrong? Is Marco okay?”

  “Yeah, uh…” My adrenaline crashed and my body began to shake.

  “Carly?”

  “He’s okay,” I said, my voice breaking. I needed to get myself together. “I’m sorry. I’m okay. He’s okay.”

  “Take a breath, girlie,” he said, his tone softening further. “Are you in danger?”

  “No, not at the moment. But a man showed up and threatened to kill the people I love. You have to be careful, Hank. Get your gun and keep it with you.”

  “First of all, who was he?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t recognize him. He said he was giving me a message. That I needed to let it go.”

  “Let what go?”

  “I’m not sure.” But I knew. If Emily had figured out what I was up to, then Bart had to know too.

  “This must be connected to you lookin’ into Pam’s murder. Where’s Marco?”

  “He left for work. I took a shower, and when I got out, the guy was sitting at Marco’s kitchen table, drinking his coffee and smoking a cigarette.”

  “He was in the house?” Hank sounded murderous.

  “The door was locked, but he got in somehow.”

  “And he’s gone now?”

  “Yeah. But he might be coming after you. I told him I wasn’t backing down, so he might try to hurt you to teach me a lesson.”

  He released a chuckle. “You think someone’s comin’ after me? Girlie, you need to worry about you. You’ve seen what I do to people who dare to threaten me or mine.”

  I couldn’t help smiling a bit. “Be careful anyway, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  The phone beeped with an incoming call. “Hank, I think Marco’s calling me. I’ll be home soon.”

  “You be safe too.”

  “I will.” I hung up and answered. “Hello?”

  “Carly,” Marco said. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “It’s important for you to know I’m okay.”

  “Now I’m really worried. What happened?”

  “Someone broke in after you left.”

  “Into the house? Where were you?” He sounded furious, but I knew he wasn’t angry with me.

  “In the shower.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Oh my God, Carly. Did he…?”

  “No,” I said. “He didn’t come into the bathroom, but he was waiting for me when I got out.”

  “Carly.”

  “I’m okay. He didn’t even come near me. After I got out of the shower, I heard a noise and knew it wasn’t you, so I loaded your shotgun and went out to greet him. He was sitting at the kitchen table smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee.”

  “You should have crawled out the back window.” He cursed under his breath. “I knew I should have put a phone line in the bedroom.”

  “I’m fine. He told me he had a message. That I needed to let it go, although he didn’t say what it was or who sent him.”

  “It was Bart.”

  “That’s my thought too.”

  “What was the threat?” Marco asked.

  “He mentioned there are lots of accidents around here, and the people I love might be in danger.”

  “If you don’t let it go?”

  “Yes.”

  Marco was quiet for a moment. “Definitely Bart. I take it you didn’t recognize the guy?”

  “No, but he drove an older black truck and his license plate was covered in mud.” I took a breath. “I don’t know how he got in, Marco. I locked the front door. I don’t see any broken windows.”

  “I’m getting an alarm system, but first I’m coming home.”

  “Unless you’re coming home to take fingerprints or try to get DNA from the cigarette butt he stubbed out on your table, there’s no point. I’m going home to get dressed, then I have to go to Spencer Gensler’s tutoring appointment.”

  “Maybe you should cancel that.”

  “Not a chance. If I do, Bart wins.” I couldn’t let that happen, no matter how afraid I was for Hank and Marco. Because someone needed to take a stand against Bart, and we were close…we had to be if he was reacting like this. I stared at the burn mark on the table. “I’m sorry I let him burn your table. Maybe we can sand it out.”

  “I don’t care about the damn table, Carly. I care about you,” he said, sounding frustrated, but I recognized it for what it was. He was afraid for me.

  “I’m okay.”

  “He was there while you were in the shower, Carly. He could have…”

  “He didn’t. I’m okay.”

  “You have to leave Drum,” he said, his voice strangled. “It’s not safe for you.”

  “It’s not safe for you and Hank. I’m fine.”

  “For now.” He was quiet for a moment. “I think I should come home.”

  “Are you going to file a police report?”

  He hesitated. “No. I’m scared to draw any more attention to you.”

  “You can come home, but I’m going to the Genslers’ place because whether I’m trying to wheedle information out of them or not, there’s a boy who’s flunking summer school and needs help.”

  “I’m scared,” he said in frustration. “I’m a damn deputy sheriff, and I don’t know how to protect you.”

  “I’m scared too, but for the record, I think not filing a report is a good decision. And to help put both of our minds at ease, I’ll get my gun when I go home to change, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. “Keep checking in with me, all right?”

  “Yeah.” Partly because I wanted regular assurance that he was okay. I had to find a way to protect him and Hank. Information was the best way to do that. As soon as I was done with Spencer, I was heading straight to Bingham.

  Chapter Thirty

  When I got home, Hank was sitting on his front porch with his shotgun propped against the house, Smoky lying in his lap. He assured me no one had shown up and that his concern was for me, not himself.

  I kissed his cheek and told him that he didn’t need to worry: I wouldn’t be going anywhere without my handgun. I went inside and changed clothes, putting on another dress I’d gotten on my last visit to Target. Letty sat on the bed, watching me, so I scooped her up and took her with me into the bathroom while I put on some makeup. She batted at the toilet paper roll while I got ready, then raced off to places unknown. When I finished, I repacked my bag, bringing a change of clothes and my gun, and headed out the door.

  I barely made it on time for my appointment with the Genslers, and I spent the next hour working with their son, splitting our time between English and social studies. It didn’t take long for me to realize the boy was in serious trouble. I assured his parents I could help him, but one hour a week wasn’t going to cut it, so I agreed to tutor him every Friday morning at their house for twenty dollars an hour, and for free an hour before Wednesday’s Tutoring Club.

  I left without getting a chance to ask about the accident, but it would have been awkward to shoehorn questions into our first lesson, and I genuinely wanted to help him. If I didn’t get useful information from Bingham, then I’d try to quiz Spencer at our tutoring session next week.

  As soon as I left, I headed back through town toward Bingham’s, pleased to see the electricity had come back on.

  When I reached his property, I pulled up to the house outside the fenced salvage yard. On my first visit last December, it had looked neglected and timeworn, but each time I came out, it was in better shape. It had a fresh paint job and was sparkling white with black shutters. There was even a nice wicker furniture set on the front porch.

  I got out and walked up to the front door, smiling when I saw the ceiling of the porch had been painted haint blue.

  Lula opened the door just before I could knock, her face beaming. “Carly! I’m so sorry I missed you yesterday afternoon. Greta and I painted each other’s nails.” She held
up her hand to show me her bright pink manicure.

  “I really wanted to come, but Max put me to work setting up the street party. I didn’t get a chance to say hi to you and Todd last night.”

  She waggled her eyebrows. “You were too busy makin’ googly eyes at Marco.” She reached out and patted my arm. “Good for you, girl. Lots of women have tried to tie him down. I’m not surprised you were the one to do it.”

  “Why?” I asked, caught off guard.

  “Because you’re special, Carly Moore,” she said with a laugh. “I knew it the first night I met you, when you drove me home. Greta’s workin’ today, but we can hang if you want.”

  I glanced toward the junkyard. “While I would love to take you up on that, I’m actually here to talk to Todd. Is he around?”

  She made a face. “He had to run to Chattanooga. He won’t be back until later tonight.”

  I tried to hide my disappointment. “I need to talk to him about something important. Can you tell him when he gets back? The sooner the better.”

  “You want to talk to him tonight?” she asked in surprise.

  I would have waited until tomorrow, but this morning’s intruder had made our need to have a discussion much more pressing. “Yeah. Tonight. Tell him it’s about a common goal.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you in trouble, Carly?”

  “Nah,” I said. “I’m fine, but it is important. Tell him I’m working at the tavern, so he can get ahold of me there to coordinate when and where we talk.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking worried.

  “I don’t suppose my god-daughter’s awake, is she?”

  “I’m sorry. I just got her down for her nap about twenty minutes ago. I’d have kept her up if I’d known you were comin’.”

  “No worries,” I said. “I’ll try to come back next week.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Maybe we can meet for lunch at Watson’s. I want to hear more about how you and Marco finally hooked up.”

  “And I want to hear more about you and Todd searchin’ your family tree.”

  Her brow shot up. “You know about that?”

  “Carnita told me. She said you’d traced Todd’s family back to the 1800s.”

  She smiled. “Todd is more into it than I am. Maybe you should ask him when you talk to him.”

  “Yeah. Maybe I will.” I lifted my hand. “I’ll let you get back to your free time while Bea sleeps. I’m off next Wednesday if that works for you for lunch. I’ll be free until my tutoring session at two-thirty.”

  A smile lit up her eyes. “Perfect! Meet you there at noon?”

  “Deal.”

  I left and headed toward the highway. I didn’t need to be at work until five, and I wasn’t sure what to do next. I had plenty of housework at home to keep me occupied for the next few hours, but it wouldn’t feel right to just go home. Something had been weighing on me since our visit to Jonathon Whitmore’s house. I was worried about Ashlynn. I felt like I was part of the reason why she’d run off and lost her job, and I wanted to make sure she was okay.

  I turned toward town and headed to the Crimshaw property. The beat-up pickup was there, but the car I’d seen before was gone. I parked in the driveway, then got out to walk over to the trailer.

  “She ain’t home,” a voice called out from the house, and I saw Thad standing in the doorway.

  “Ashlynn still hasn’t come back?” I asked.

  “Nope. She won’t be comin’ back either. Dad kicked her out.”

  Was that why she’d been at Jonathon’s place?

  I walked toward him. “I heard that she and Chuck broke up.”

  “Yep. He ran off with Becca Sloan after he found out the baby wasn’t his.” He slowly swung his head. “Man, was he pissed. Dad was pissed too. He called Ashlynn a slut and told her she had three weeks to get the hell out of the trailer. Mom was upset and tried to get him to let her stay, but he told her no and beat the shit out of her.”

  I couldn’t hide my shock, and the small triumph in his eyes told me that he’d hoped to shock me. I decided to take advantage of that. “Did he beat her often?”

  “Often enough,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door frame.

  “Does he beat you too?”

  His brow lifted like he thought I was stupid to ask something so obvious.

  “What did he do to Ashlynn when he found out?”

  “He tried to beat her too, but Mom stopped him. She was scared he’d hurt the baby.” Disgust washed over his face. “He should have done it and killed her baby. Then that poor bastard wouldn’t have to live in misery like the rest of us.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Thad, I can get help for you.”

  He released a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I tried that a couple of times and it bit me in the ass every time.”

  “I know a teacher reported abuse…”

  “I got an extra beatin’ for that,” he sneered. “Several, actually.”

  “And the other time?”

  Disgust filled his eyes. “Jim Palmer ain’t the saint everyone made him out to be.”

  “I’ve gathered,” I bluffed, hoping to keep him talking.

  “I bet you don’t know everything,” he said defiantly. “I bet you don’t know why my mom killed him.”

  Oh God. Did he know? Had Jim Palmer impregnated Ashlynn like we suspected?

  “No,” I said. “I don’t. Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure it out. I think she was pressured into it, and if the truth comes out, it might help her get a reduced sentence.”

  He released a sharp bark of a laugh. “My dad will never let you tell anyone.”

  “Why not?”

  He started to say something, then stopped.

  “Why won’t your dad help your mom?” I pressed.

  “Because.” He glanced down at his feet and licked his bottom lip. Then he lifted his gaze to mine, his eyes shiny with tears. “Because my dad will never admit that his son is gay.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, but he looked at me expectantly, so I asked, “Are you gay, Thad?”

  “Maybe?” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “There’s no shame in being gay,” I assured him. “I don’t know if Jim told you it was a sin—”

  Thad burst out laughing.

  I stared at him in confusion. “I know he was a youth leader. So if you talked to him about—”

  He started laughing harder, but then it turned to sobs.

  I climbed up the porch stairs and wrapped my arm around his back, then led him down to sit on the top step. He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned forward, his body shaking with sobs.

  “It’s my fault she’s in jail,” he wailed. “It’s all my fault.”

  “No, Thad,” I said, rubbing his back lightly. “Your mother is a grown woman. She did this on her own. It’s not your fault.”

  He continued to cry. “I should have died in that wreck. We were supposed to die.”

  I gasped and leaned forward to study his face. Did he just tell me that he and Spencer had tried to kill themselves? “Thad, did you and Spencer…” I stopped and started again. Better to work our way up to it. “Is Spencer gay too?”

  He hesitated, then nodded, breaking into a fresh round of wails.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Thad.”

  His tear-streaked face lifted, and he shot me a glare. “Do you know anyone else around here who is gay?”

  Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t. Not openly, anyway.

  “Yeah,” he said in disgust before I could respond. “That’s because no one comes out around here. We’re supposed to be men, and being a man means fuckin’ women.” His glare made me think that he was trying to shock me again.

  “Maybe around here,” I said. “But not in a large part of the country. When you’re older, you can leave and be true to yourself.” This wasn’t coming out right. “Screw that. You can be true to yourself now.”

  “And be called fag and qu
eer at school?” he scoffed. “No thanks.”

  “And what about at home? Does your dad know?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Your mom knows, doesn’t she? You said she tried to protect you.”

  Tears welled in his eyes and he nodded.

  “Did she protect you from your dad?”

  “She tried.”

  “Why did she kill Jim Palmer?”

  “She found out.”

  “That you were gay?”

  Except…why would she kill him over that?

  And then it hit me.

  Jim hadn’t taken advantage of Ashlynn. He’d taken advantage of Thad. We’d gotten nearly everything wrong, from the very beginning.

  “Thad,” I said slowly, “you said you and Spencer were supposed to die in your accident. Did you two intend to kill yourselves?”

  He was quiet for a moment before nodding.

  “Does anyone know?”

  His chin quivered as more tears fell down his cheeks. “Mom. I told her in the hospital, but Spencer didn’t tell anyone. Mom said we needed to keep it a secret. I tried to tell her I was gay, but she wouldn’t let me finish. A few days later, she told me that Jim Palmer was going to talk to me. To help me work through my issues. But we had to keep it a secret. Especially from my dad.” Disgust twisted his lips. “He doesn’t believe in talkin’ about our feelin’s.”

  They’d kept it a secret, which likely explained why Selena didn’t know. “What did your mom tell him?”

  “Just that I’d tried to hurt myself. That was all. But after we started talking, he kept pressing me to tell him why I did it. I didn’t want to tell him, but after a few sessions, he guessed.” He swallowed. “He told me that he could help me make my feelings for men go away. That he could help them run their course.”

  My chest felt like it was splitting in two. “Oh, Thad,” I choked out.

  “I told Mom that I didn’t want to see him anymore, but Jim told her I wasn’t fixed yet. And I couldn’t tell her what he was doin’. But then three weeks ago, instead of waiting for me out in the parking lot, she showed up early to one of our sessions.” His face reddened. “She wasn’t one hundred percent sure of what she saw, so she turned around and walked out, but she didn’t make me go back the next week.”