“Did you know him?” I asked.
“Everyone knew him, especially after his momma died last year,” she said as she continued to wipe off my hands.
I knew I should stop her, but her touch was comforting and grounding, and I felt myself calming down. “What happened to her?”
She shook her head and clucked. “Drugs. That’s what happens to a good portion of the people in this godforsaken town. Meth. Like to have killed Hank, especially with his history and the stand he’s always taken against hard drugs. His wife had just died of breast cancer and then he lost his daughter. Seth was all he had left.”
My heart broke a little more. I couldn’t bring Seth back, but maybe the information I had would help his grandfather seek justice. “Does Hank live close?”
“He lives over in White Rabbit Holler, out by me, but he ain’t there.” She shook her head again. “Hank Chalmers is in the hospital down in Greeneville.” She made a face. “Got his leg amputated. Was supposed to come home in a day or two, and Seth was gonna take care of him.” She pushed out a huge sigh. “Guess somebody should’ve been lookin’ out for that boy.”
“Someone shot him, Ruth,” I said. “Do you have any idea who would do that?”
Her hand paused for a fraction of a second before she looked up at me. “Everybody loved that boy. His momma raised him with manners before she got addicted and passed, and he never forgot ’em. He helped Hank around the house as best he could, but you can’t make a turnip bleed money, ya know? Still, he took care of the house and went shopping since Hank has mostly been housebound the last six months or so.” She sighed again. “This is gonna kill him.”
“I tried to save him,” I said, close to breaking down again. “I tried to stop the bleeding.”
“Honey,” she said, “ain’t nobody gonna blame you. You obviously tried to help him. Max said you heard him moaning and ran out to see if you could help. That’s courageous in anyone’s book.”
“But I didn’t save him.”
“That’s not on you. It’s on the person who did this to the poor boy.” She swiped at a tear rolling down her cheek with the back of her hand.
Throwing caution to the wind, I said, “Do you think any of the men in the bar last night could have done it?”
She went still, then looked up at me again, her eyes fierce. “We don’t hurt our own.”
We don’t hurt our own.
If that was true, had the killer decided Seth wasn’t one of their own? I definitely wasn’t one of theirs, which meant I needed to mind my own business until I could get the hell out of here.
Chapter Six
By the time Ruth had gotten me cleaned up and forced me to down the entire cup of coffee mixed with whiskey, my anxious edge had softened a bit. But my heartbeat picked back up when Max appeared in the kitchen doorway with a middle-aged man in a dress shirt and jeans behind him.
“Carly, this here’s Detective Daniels with the Hensen County Sheriff’s Department,” Max said, stepping into the room, which gave me a good look at the deputy. “He’s investigating Seth’s murder.”
He was shorter than Max by a couple of inches and definitely at least fifty pounds heavier. I guessed him to be ten to fifteen years older too. His jacket hung open and the buttons on his shirt stretched the cloth to help contain his abdomen. The dark circles under his eyes indicated he’d been in bed when he’d received the call. Hopefully that meant he wasn’t one of the “bad” deputies Seth had mentioned.
“Carly Moore?” he asked as he approached me.
Ruth was sitting next to me and reached over to squeeze my hand.
He didn’t look all that scary, but I needed to watch myself, especially if he’d found my gun. “That’s me.” Then I added so hopefully it wouldn’t be an issue later, “My real name’s Charlene Moore, but I go by Carly.”
“I understand you found the victim.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He slipped a small notebook and pen out of his coat pocket. “I know you’ve been through an ordeal, and it was obvious you tried to help Seth. That’s what I’m trying to do now. I know I can’t bring him back, but I can do the next best thing and find his killer. It will really help if you give me a brief statement telling me what happened.”
His spiel about helping Seth seemed odd, like he was trying to convince me to do the right thing. Did he suspect Seth had given me some secret to keep from the sheriff’s department? Or maybe he thought I’d accidentally shot Seth then tried to cover it up?
I glanced over at Max. He gave me a reassuring nod. Did that mean he’d taken care of my gun?
“Ruth,” Max said in his congenial tone. “Before they get started, why don’t we get Detective Daniels a cup of coffee to warm him up? He’s been outside for a bit and that wind is brutal tonight.”
She hopped off her stool and headed to the coffee brewer. “Do you take cream or sugar, Detective Daniels?”
His face lit up at the mention of coffee. “Black.”
“I suspect this interview might be easier if both of you are sittin’ down,” Max said, reaching for me. “I’ll take Carly out to the dining room and help get her settled.” Before the detective could respond, he started leading me out the door.
He leaned in close and whispered, “He never saw the gun. You’re covered.”
I nearly stumbled as I pushed out a sigh of relief. “Max, you shouldn’t have risked yourself like that.”
“Don’t you worry about it. Just get through your statement, then we’ll deal with the rest later.”
Deal with the rest? I started to ask him what he was talking about, but the detective was coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand.
We settled at a four-person table—the detective and I sitting opposite each other. Max and Ruth took seats at the bar—still within earshot, I noticed, but it provided the illusion of privacy.
“Ms. Moore,” the detective said as he opened his notebook again. “How did you know the victim?”
I blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know him.”
“Had you ever seen him before?”
“No.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re certain?”
I shot a glance at Max and Ruth, but their expressions were stoic. Unreadable. “I’m very certain,” I said with a tight smile. “I just got into Drum yesterday and worked here at the tavern last night. Seth never entered the establishment. Not that I saw anyway.”
“Huh,” he said, writing something in his notebook. “Tell me what happened. Be sure to start at the beginnin’.”
I started with being woken up, then repeated the story of hearing a moan outside my room. Of running outside to check on Seth. I started to cry when I got to the part about trying to stop Seth’s bleeding and the earsplitting scream I’d let out when no one had heard my cries for help.
“But he died just as Max reached us,” I finished, not hiding my tears.
The deputy was writing in his pad, but he looked up when he asked, “And you didn’t see who shot him?”
I paused. The detective seemed like he genuinely wanted to solve Seth’s murder, and my silence could potentially let the murderer go free. Except Seth had warned me about trusting the sheriff’s department. No, I’d let Seth’s grandfather decide how to proceed, although it struck me that I could be in big trouble for giving the deputy false information. Something I was trying not to do. Withholding information was still a lie of omission, of course, but maybe I’d be in less trouble if I stuck close to the truth. “I didn’t see anyone when I went out to check on him.”
“No car driving away?” he asked. “You never heard a gunshot?”
“I woke up to his cry of distress,” I said. “And when I went out to check on him, he was alone. No other car or trucks in sight.” All technically true.
He jotted down a few lines and closed his notebook. “Max says you’re not from around here, but you’re sticking around for a few days.”
So he knew I wa
s new to town but still seemed to think I might have met Seth. Did he suspect I’d murdered the boy? Did he think I’d beaten him too? But he was waiting for an answer, so I pulled myself together.
“My car broke down,” I said. “It’s at the auto repair shop here in town.”
“Where are you from?”
I swallowed, trying to hide my nervousness. “Atlanta.”
He narrowed his eyes as he angled his head to one side. “How’d you end up in Drum? It’s not usually a place people just drop in on. Got family around?”
“No. Just supreme bad luck.” Silence hung between us, making it obvious he expected me to fill in more information. “I was driving through while on vacation.”
“Through Drum?” He didn’t try to hide his incredulousness.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “There’s an overlook that gives you a good view.”
“Oh, I know the place,” he said. “It’s just that no one uses it much since the state moved the road up to Balder Mountain a few years back.”
Why was he questioning my story? Did he really suspect me of something, or was he just covering his bases? “When I checked out of my motel in Gatlinburg yesterday morning, the motel clerk suggested this route. She said it was a more scenic way to Interstate 40.”
“You got to Drum on your way to the interstate coming from Gatlinburg?”
“My GPS didn’t work, detective,” I said with a bit more attitude than I’d intended. “I wandered around for a bit, then broke down at the overlook. I guarantee you that I’m now wishing I hadn’t taken that scenic route.”
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “We’ll want to take a more formal statement later today, so we’ll be in touch. There’ll be some follow-up questions too. I’d prefer you don’t leave town until we make sure we’ve gotten everything we need from you.” He handed me a business card. “Since most cell phone carriers don’t work out here, Max says the best way to reach you is here at the tavern.”
I shot a glance to Max, who gave me a reassuring smile.
“Yeah,” I said, facing the detective. “I’ll be working all day today, but I’m not sure about my hours on Wednesday.”
“We’ll make sure you can reach her,” Max said. “No worries there.”
“Sounds good,” the deputy said as he got to his feet and started for the door. He stopped and turned back to Max. “How’s your father?”
Max’s back straightened a fraction of an inch. “He’s good.”
“And your momma?”
“She’s feelin’ mighty fine after her last round of chemo,” he said congenially. “Thanks for askin’.”
The detective nodded. “Glad to hear it. Rumor has it that Bart’s got somethin’ in the works to get Drum back on the map.”
“So I hear,” Max said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “He likes to surprise his kids as much as he likes to surprise the town.”
The detective cocked his head to the side. “Rumor also has it that Wyatt’s still out of your parents’ good graces.”
“Oh, you know how the rumor mill works,” Max said with a slow drawl and a cocky grin. “A whole lot of hearsay and such.”
“So he’s not on the outs?”
“Seems like you should be talkin’ to Wyatt and my parents about their relationship, not me.”
The detective studied Max for a moment before nodding. “All righty then. Maybe I will.”
Then he headed out the door without a backward glance.
We were silent for a moment before Ruth jumped off her stool, her fists clenched at her sides like she was spoiling for a fight. “What the Sam Hill was that about?”
Max pushed out an exaggerated sigh and then turned around to face her. “You know Hensen County deputies. They ain’t happy until they’ve harassed the residents of Drum and gotten in a good kick or two.”
“Why was he askin’ you about Wyatt?” Ruth asked. “Does he think Wyatt shot that poor boy?”
“I doubt it,” Max said, walking behind the bar. He grabbed three glasses and set them on the counter. “He’s fishin’, but not for poor Seth’s murderer. He’s bound and determined to take the Drummonds down, and he’s gonna use this excuse to rev up the chainsaw.”
“He needs to let it go,” Ruth said. “The past is in the past.”
“What happened?” I asked, walking over to the counter, directly in front of Max. “Why the bad blood?” Technically, it was none of my business, but I was in the middle of this now. I needed to get my bearings, and it was obvious whatever was up with Detective Daniels had something to do with the Drummonds.
Max reached for a bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind him, then filled each glass with a generous pour. “My family’s past is littered with plenty of not-so-legal ventures, but that ended in my grandparents’ time. Moonshinin’ and such. If we were mixed up with illegal ventures now, I sure as hell wouldn’t be workin’ seven days a week in this hellhole.” After handing out the glasses of whiskey, he lifted his tumbler in a toast. “May the Hensen County Sheriff’s Department’s justice be swift and harsh for the perpetrator of Seth’s death, and when they’re through, may they clear out and leave the rest of us the hell alone.”
He lifted his tumbler even higher and downed the amber liquid.
I gulped mine just as quickly. I could definitely drink to that.
“Should we be worried?” Ruth asked with a frown, only part of her whiskey gone.
“Why would we be worried?” Max asked. “We didn’t do anything wrong. What do we have to hide?”
“What about Wyatt?” she asked. “The deputy seemed mighty interested in him.”
Max frowned, pouring another generous amount into his glass. He picked it up, his lips still pressed together in thought. Finally, he said, “Wyatt’s family, whether he wants to be or not. We’ll bring him back into the fold eventually. Family sticks together.”
What did that mean?
“Do you think Wyatt killed that boy?” I asked, my hand shaking.
Max snorted. “No. Wyatt’s a lot of things, but he’s no murderer.”
“That’s not what the rumor mill says,” Ruth said, her brows raised.
“The rumor mill is a bunch of gossipy old hens and roosters with nothin’ better to do than stir up shit,” Max said in disgust. “That girl left town, plain and simple, and my parents were several thousand dollars lighter after helping speed along her departure.” He winked at me. “But that’s inside information, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go spreadin’ it around.”
This entire conversation was putting me on edge. Why would Max share information with me that he didn’t want the rest of the town to know? Then again, I’d shared a secret with him, so maybe he figured that made us even. Which reminded me that I had questions too… “About that thing I left next to Seth…”
Max finished his drink and poured more for himself and for me. “It wasn’t there.”
This time he slammed the whiskey down even faster.
Whatever was going on had Max on edge, but I had more immediate worries.
My hand tightened around my ridged glass. “Say again?” I was hoping I’d misheard or misunderstood.
His lips pulled back, exposing his teeth as he spun around and grabbed a clear, unlabeled bottle from the shelf behind the bar.
“Max,” I said more insistently.
Ruth glanced between the two of us. “What are all y’all talkin’ about?”
Max gave me a look that suggested it was my call.
Did I want to share this with Ruth? I barely knew her, but I felt like I could trust her. I had to trust someone. Besides, I suspected most people around here would think nothing of carrying a gun for protection.
Pushing out a sigh, I leaned my elbow on the counter and rested my forehead on my hand. “I knew something was wrong, so I brought a gun outside with me. I set it down when I was trying to help Seth, then I forgot all about it until right before
the deputy showed up. I told Max, and he said he’d take care of it, now he says it was gone.”
“It just up and vanished?” she asked him incredulously.
“Hell if I know,” Max said with a shrug. “But I know it wasn’t there when I distracted Detective Hard-on-for-the-Drummonds to go get it.”
“Did another deputy get to it first?” Ruth asked, worry on her face.
“I don’t see how,” Max said, pouring himself another drink. “I came upon Marco as he got out of his car. Then we walked together to the body. It wasn’t there. Marco was the first on the scene. There’s no way the Hensen County Sheriff’s Department has it.”
“So who does?” I asked, my stomach falling to my feet.
“Now that is a mighty fine question,” Max said, pointing a finger at me as he lifted his glass, now half full of a clear liquid. Had he moved on to vodka?
“Did you see anything else?” I asked him.
He squinted. “Like what?”
“I don’t know…clues? Evidence?”
“There was nothin’ on the ground next to him. Trust me. I checked.”
“Who would take my gun?” I asked, trying not to panic.
And my key fob.
I decided not to mention it. If I admitted to setting off the alarm, they’d wonder if I’d seen more than I was saying.
“Somebody who was watchin’,” Ruth said solemnly.
I turned my head to face her. “Someone who saw the murder?”
“Maybe.”
“Or someone who heard you scream bloody murder,” Max said, taking a generous sip of his drink, then grimacing as it went down.
“You’re gettin’ sauced,” Ruth said with a frown. “That deputy got you worried about your daddy?”
“My father ain’t got nothin’ for him to find,” Max said, topping off his glass.
Ruth didn’t look like she believed him, but she didn’t press. “Max, it’s three in the mornin’, so you need to go back to bed. And so does Carly.”
A Cry in the Dark Page 7