“I need you to give my granddad a message.” When I didn’t answer, the fear in his eyes increased. “Please.”
My throat tightened. “Okay. Then I need to call 911.”
“Tell him I had to do it.” His jaw trembled. “Tell him I’m sorry I hurt him. That I tried.”
Not trusting myself to speak past the lump in my throat, I nodded.
“Tell him I have the evidence to put them away. The code’s on my hand.” He turned his left hand palm up, and I took a quick look at the numbers—5346823—that were slightly smeared in blue ink.
Those guys had found the camera, but maybe he had already gotten what he needed from it—maybe the footage was stored elsewhere. I knew nanny cams sent the footage to a website. The code must be an access code.
The shirt under my hand was becoming soaked with his blood. “Okay. I’ll tell the police.”
“No!” he shouted, then began to cough.
Blood splattered on my arm and my shirt and I tried not to recoil in horror.
“Don’t tell the sheriff,” he said, his words barely audible. “Some of ’em are part of this. It was one of their deputies that shot me.”
The chill that shot down my back had nothing to do with the cold night air.
I needed to call for help, but he was quickly bleeding to death, and I was scared to leave him alone. Besides, the room phone didn’t even work. So I did the next best thing.
“Help!” I shouted. “Help!”
The kid gave me a sad smile. “I ain’t gonna make it. You’re wasting your breath.”
I shook my head. “No.” Then I leaned back my head and screamed at the top of my lungs.
Lights flicked on in the second floor of the tavern as well as in one of the motel rooms.
Knowing help was on the way, I turned my attention to the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Seth.”
“I’m gonna stay with you, Seth.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Still pressing on his chest with my left hand, I reached for his hand and held on tight.
“You’re gonna tell my grandfather, right?” he whispered. “You look like a nice lady. You’ll keep your promise?”
I nodded, trying not to sob. “I promise, Seth. I’ll tell him.”
“And not the sheriff.”
That one was harder to promise, but if he didn’t want the sheriff to know, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the one to tell them he had something on them. Besides, if a deputy had really shot him, who could I trust? “I’ll only tell your grandfather. No one else.”
His grandfather could figure out what to do with the information.
“Thank you,” he whispered with a little cough.
“Carly?” I heard Max shout in panic as he sprinted across the street in jeans, barefooted and bare-chested. “What happened? I heard you scream!”
“I’m okay,” I said as he approached. “We need an ambulance.” But Seth’s hand had become limp and his chest wasn’t rising and falling under my hand. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly up at me.
“You’re covered in blood,” Max said, his voice tight with worry. “What happened?”
“Seth was shot,” I said, feeling numb.
Oh, God. He was dead. He’d died holding my hand as I’d soaked up his blood in a shirt I’d only worn for a few hours. It all felt surreal.
Max tried to pull me to my feet, but I resisted. “No! We need to give him CPR.”
Kneeling on one knee next to me, Max gently pulled my hand from Seth’s chest, and lifted the teen’s shirt to survey the oozing wounds on either side of his chest. Cursing under his breath, he lowered the shirt. “CPR won’t do any good, Carly. He’s lost too much blood.”
“We have to at least try!”
He gave me a sad look. “No. You need to let him go.”
I stared at Seth in shock. I’d just witnessed a murder and I couldn’t trust the sheriff’s department.
My complicated life had just become exponentially more difficult.
Chapter Five
In a daze, I let Max pull me to my feet. I was only vaguely aware when he began leading me across the street toward the bar.
“You’re not wearing shoes,” I said, feeling like I was watching the scene from afar.
“Neither are you,” he said, wrapping an arm around my upper back and tugging me to his side. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up.”
“We need to call 911.” I pulled away from him. “I have to stay with Seth.”
“Seth’s already gone. No point in you freezin’ with him.” He ushered me through the front door to the tavern, and as soon as he was through, he shut the door and dropped his hold on me. The room was pitch black except for a faint glow of light toward the kitchen. Terror shot through me, but I resisted the urge to reach out and hold on to Max for dear life.
“I’m gonna turn on the lights,” he said, his voice already sounding farther away. Seconds later, the darkness burst into light and I blinked with a start.
I spun around and separated the slats of the blinds, staring at Seth’s body, which still lay at the edge of the parking lot, alone.
Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t just stand in the warm bar and leave him alone like that. I’d told him I would stay with him. I had to do something.
When I moved to the door and reached for the doorknob, Max said behind me, “Where do you think you’re goin’?”
“He’s all alone out there,” I said, my voice breaking as I turned around to face him. He was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt. “He needs someone.”
Shaking his head, he walked straight for me. I noticed the look of devastation in his eyes first, the shirt he was trying to hand me second. “Carly, you’ll catch your death of cold, and there’s not a damn thing you can do for him now. Sit down and put this on while I go call the sheriff.”
“You haven’t called him already?” I asked in dismay.
“No, I was more worried about you.” He reached for me and guided me toward a table. Once I sat, he thrust the shirt into my hand. “Come on, now. Put this on and sit before you pass out. You’re as white as a sheet. I’ll call the sheriff and start a pot of coffee to warm you up.”
He waited for a second to make sure I started to put on the shirt, then took off for the back, leaving me alone again.
My hands had begun to shake, and it took me several attempts to put on the shirt. It was a thermal shirt, much like the one I’d left on Seth’s body, only much larger. The sleeves engulfed my hands. But as I pulled up the fabric, I saw the deep red staining my fingers.
My vision turned spotty again, and I lowered myself into the chair, nearly missing it as panic engulfed me.
I’d just witnessed a murder. I’d seen the men who did it. I’d seen their getaway vehicle. And the dying boy had told me not to tell the sheriff what I knew.
What was I going to do?
I needed to get the hell out of Drum.
“Thanks, Marco,” Max said, his voice carrying from the back. “See you when you get here.” He appeared around the corner, studying me with worry in his eyes. “Would you rather have some tea or hot soup instead of coffee?”
I stared at him as though he’d spoken in Mandarin.
“I need to talk to Wyatt.”
Max’s eyes widened in shock and he took a step toward me. “What? Why?”
“I have to get out of here.”
He hurried across the room and squatted in front of me, taking my wrists in his hands. “Carly. It’s gonna be okay.”
I slowly shook my head, my unshed tears making his face blurry.
“You’re in shock is all. I already called Ruth. She’s much better at handlin’ crises.”
I started to cry. “I have to go home.”
It was an empty sentiment, and I knew it—I could never go back to Dallas. My friends in Arkansas might have some advice, but I could only call them from my burner phone and I didn’t get cell serv
ice up here. I was good and truly stuck.
Max gave me a warm smile. “You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”
I appreciated the sentiment, so I nodded, but I didn’t feel safe. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel safe again.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he said in a soft, quiet voice.
I opened my mouth to tell him—then stopped. If I told Max the entire truth, there was a good chance he’d tell the sheriff. Even if he agreed to keep it quiet, what if the murderers found out either of us knew something? I was certain at least one of those guys had been in the bar earlier. Would they kill Max? I had no doubt they would kill me.
His brow furrowed. “Carly. I promise you’re safe.”
“I heard a noise outside and found Seth lying on the ground. Bleeding.”
He frowned. “How’d you know his name? I didn’t see him in the bar last night.”
I took a shaky breath and let it out. “He told me.”
His eyes went wide. “He was alive when you found him? Did he tell you who did it?”
I shook my head, a little too fast and insistent, and hoped Max didn’t realize I was lying. “No.” Then a new thought hit me. Drum was a very small town. “Did you know him?”
He sank back on his heels, still holding my hand, and for the first time, his face fell. “He was a good kid.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “I coached him in football and baseball a few years back before his momma died last year.” He paused. “His granddad’s gonna take it hard.”
I needed to see his grandfather, but now didn’t seem like a good time to bring that up. “I’m so sorry.”
Surprise filled his eyes. “Why are you sorry? You held his hand as he died, and you tried to save him. There was nothin’ else you could have done.”
“Someone beat him up,” I said, my panic rising again. “They beat him up and shot him. Why?”
He shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know, but if the sheriff doesn’t take this seriously, I know a few guys who will be more than happy to look into it. Everyone loved Seth.”
Well, apparently not everyone.
“Do you remember anything else he said?” Max asked.
Could I trust Max? I sure hoped so, but Seth had made it clear he only wanted me to talk to one person. His grandfather could decide whether he wanted to share what little Seth had told me. I’d be long gone by the time Max found out I’d lied—if he found out—but it still hurt my heart to be dishonest to someone who’d been so kind.
I shook my head. “I asked him what his name was and told him I’d get him help.” Tears were flowing down my cheeks again. “I lied to him, because I didn’t get him help at all. I lied to a dying boy.”
He gave me a soft smile and squeezed the back of my hand. “You didn’t lie. You tried to get him help, but the closest medical facility is half an hour away, and it’s not even a trauma center. He was shot in the chest. Twice. There was no savin’ him, Carly.” His voice cracked and he looked down, his cheeks flushing. He swiped his face and got to his feet. “I’m gonna check on that pot of coffee.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, not that he stuck around to hear anything I might have said. Max’s shoulders shook a little as he rounded the corner. The realization that Seth was dead had to be hitting him full force.
I glanced down at my hands, feeling the urge to wash them. I wasn’t sure if the sheriff’s department would want to see them as part of their investigation. Which was when I realized there was something else that would interest them.
My gun.
I jumped out of the seat and ran for the front door, but just as I got it open, I saw flashing lights in the distance.
The sheriff was just down the street.
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.
My gun was on the ground next to Seth, but there was no way I’d be able to run over there and retrieve it and run back. The sheriff’s deputy would see me.
I was screwed.
“Carly!” Max called out behind me.
“The sheriff is here,” I said, my hand trembling on the doorknob.
“Come back inside and shut the door,” he said. “You don’t have any shoes. The deputy will come over here to talk to you.”
I turned back to look at him, realizing he’d put on his own shoes and donned his jacket. “Are you going out there?”
“I’m gonna go talk to the deputy. Ruth’s on her way, so stay put until she gets here.”
The deputy’s small SUV pulled to a stop on the tavern side of the street, but the deputy remained inside…parked between me and my secrets.
The door to my motel room was still standing wide open, a big gaping chasm to my precarious new life. What would they do when they found the gun? It wasn’t registered to me. I had no idea if it was registered at all, and it definitely had my fingerprints all over it. I wasn’t in any criminal databases, but I’d been fingerprinted in a couple of states as part of the background checks required for my teacher certification. Could they link my old identity to the gun with those?
Even if they didn’t, their search might alert the people who were looking for me.
My stomach churned and my mouth turned sour.
Max started to move past me, but something in my face stopped him. He grabbed my upper arms as he searched my face. “It’s gonna be all right, Carly. The deputy will come in and ask you a few questions and that will be that, okay?”
I opened my mouth, just barely stopping myself from telling him about the gun. What would he do if I told him I’d had one? Would he assume I’d shot Seth? Would he turn me in? Or would he help me? But if he did help me, he’d be breaking the law…
His brow furrowed as he watched me work through my dilemma. My mother had always told me I had a terrible poker face, that every emotion that floated through my head was plain as day. I’d worked on that over the years, but I was tired and scared, and I was sure he knew I was hiding something.
I decided to take a leap of faith.
“I had a gun.”
He blinked. Then his brows shot up and his mouth parted. “What?”
“I have a gun and I took it out when I heard him moaning outside my room. I didn’t know if the people who’d hurt him were still out there, and I was scared. But then I saw how badly he was hurt, and I dropped it on the ground so I could put pressure on his wound. I completely forgot about it,” I said in a breathless rush. “It’s not registered to me and if the deputy finds—”
His grip on my arms tightened and his eyes hardened. “Shh. Don’t you worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”
I gasped. “What? How?”
“I know you didn’t do this, and you were smart to carry a weapon with you. Now stay inside and trust me to deal with it, okay?” He dropped his hold and left the bar, the night air whooshing in as the door closed behind him, and I watched him jog across the street as a deputy started to get out of his car, his flashing lights bouncing off the red brick motel building.
Torn between bolting to the bathroom to vomit or staying to watch, I chose to stay and witness the end of life as I knew it.
Because when the deputy picked up that gun, it would start a chain of events that would reveal my true name. And if Carly Moore was unmasked, I was as good as dead.
“Carly?” Ruth called out in a panic behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I spun around to see her coming toward me across the dining room. She had on a pair of pink fuzzy pajama bottoms covered in tiny rubber duckies, and a dark puffy coat that hit just below her butt. Her fake Uggs were darker where they’d gotten wet from the light snow cover.
“What are you doin’ in front of that open door, honey? You’ll catch your death of cold.”
I stared at her, frozen and unable to answer her.
She reached me and wrapped her arm around my back, gently tugging me away from the open doorway. I turned back to see Max standing to the side of Seth’s b
ody, his hands propped on his hips as both he and the deputy stared down at the boy.
Tears filled my eyes, and I reminded myself that a boy had died here tonight. His heartless murder was more important than my own worries.
Ruth shut the door and led me to the back of the restaurant and then into the kitchen.
“Tiny won’t like us bein’ back here,” I said, resisting her tug to cross over the invisible line.
“Tiny won’t give a single shit,” she said, pulling me in and shoving me onto a high-backed metal barstool Tiny likely used for breaks. As I took a seat, she headed straight for the coffee brewer and poured steaming liquid into two ceramic mugs. “Cream or sugar?”
“Uh…both.” Seth was dead. His murderers had driven off as casually as if they’d just finished a shopping trip at Walmart. I knew secrets that might help find them, but I couldn’t trust the sheriff. My gun was lying on the ground next to Seth’s body, a possible homing device for the people who were searching for me. All of this, and Ruth was asking if I took cream or sugar in my coffee.
I started to laugh.
Ruth squinted over at me as she poured coffee into both cups. Once she was done doctoring them, she set down the creamer carton with a decisive thud and reached into a cabinet, pulling out a small flask of whiskey. She poured a generous helping into each cup, then handed one to me. “Drink.”
It was a direct order, and I found myself taking a big enough gulp to burn both my tongue and the roof of my mouth.
She must have caught a glimpse of my hands, because after taking a sip from her own mug, she grabbed a fresh dishrag and held it under the water from the faucet. When she returned, she swiped at my face, removing blood splatters I hadn’t felt or noticed. She washed out the rag and returned, picking up one of my hands as she began to gently swipe at the stains, much like I used to clean up the preschoolers I’d watched at a daycare during my early education courses in college.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that,” I said, my tears back. “The sheriff’s deputy might need to—”
“Bullshit,” she said, continuing to wipe. “If you’re suggesting he might need this for evidence, then he’ll just have to go without it. You’re in shock and staring at his blood on your hands isn’t gonna do anyone a lick of good, least of all Seth Chalmers, God rest his soul.” Her eyes turned glassy and her hands began to shake.
A Cry in the Dark Page 6