A Cry in the Dark

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I had nothing to do with Seth’s death other than finding him, Max,” I said. “I swear it.”

  He gave me a reassuring smile. “Shit, Carly, I know that. Even a blind man could see that you’re incapable of such a thing. Don’t you worry. I have an ace up my sleeve to help.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He leaned forward. “You’ll find out later.” He checked the clock on the wall. “It’s nearly three. Why don’t you go have Tiny fix you something for lunch. Then I’ll open back up in about a half hour.”

  “You don’t have to keep the bar closed on my account, Max,” I said. I hated that he was potentially losing money because of me.

  “We’re usually dead anyway, and this will give you a chance to take a break.”

  Tears stung my eyes. “Thanks, Max.”

  “Hey,” he said good-naturedly. “I’m protectin’ my own self-interest here. You’ve already proven yourself indispensable.” He made a shooing motion. “You run along now. Have Tiny make you his grilled cheese and tomato soup. Perfect comfort food.”

  Tiny must have known I’d met with the detective, because he welcomed me into the kitchen and fed me soup and a warm sandwich and regaled me with tales about cranky customers. Bitty just gave me a long look and walked out the back door. When I finished, Max had reopened the tavern. He sat at the bar, writing in a ledger, and the place was empty except for Jerry, who had returned and was sitting in a booth close to the TV.

  “We’re good here,” Max assured me. “Why don’t you sort out the afternoon sales so you can start fresh when Ruth gets in.”

  I sat in a corner booth, combing through the tickets and cash to figure out what I owed to Tiny and Bitty from the afternoon’s tips. Just as I finished up, Ruth strolled in through the back and sat opposite me in the booth.

  “I am so sorry I abandoned you like that,” she said with a grimace. “I wanted to check out the brand-new Hobby Lobby, and I got lost.” She put her hand on the table and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Did you know they have damn near anything you could ever want in that store?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Like I told you in my text, I found a ride.”

  “Yeah,” she said suspiciously, “but you never answered my text asking who you had caught it with.”

  “In fairness,” I said, bracing myself, “I never saw your text. We must have lost cell service before it came through.”

  “That doesn’t tell me who you caught a ride with, now does it?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Max said in disgust from behind the bar. “Wyatt drove her home.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “Wyatt? You got into a vehicle with him after he stormed in here at three in the morning, demanding to know what you had to do with Seth’s murder?”

  “Whoa!” Max said as he walked around the bar and over to our table. “Wyatt showed up at three a.m.? Who let him in?”

  “He must have walked in through the back door,” Ruth said. “Because that’s the way he left.”

  Max’s face hardened. “Wyatt still has a key?”

  “You didn’t change the locks after he left?” Ruth asked, giving him an incredulous look.

  “Why the hell would I waste money changing the locks?” he asked. “He was in prison.”

  “He’s been back for five years, Maxwell!” Ruth retorted.

  “He walked out on the place,” Max said. “He walked away from everything that had anything to do with the Drummonds. Why would I be concerned that he might want to use his keys?”

  “He could have robbed you blind!” Ruth said.

  “Wyatt Drummond’s not a thief,” Jerry said in a shaky voice, turning to point his finger at us. Ruth and Max hadn’t bothered to make sure the place was completely empty before starting their fight, although I got the sense a lot of people forgot about Jerry being around. He seemed to prefer it that way. “He’s got more integrity in his pinkie finger than your father and grandfather put together, Maxwell Drummond.”

  Ruth’s mouth dropped open in shock, and she murmured to me, “I ain’t never heard that man stand up for anything, let alone for a person.”

  Max took a few steps toward him. For a moment I thought he might blast into Jerry for disrespecting two Drummonds to compliment a third, but instead he said, “Yeah, you’re right. Wyatt’s no thief.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if he meant he was right about all of it, but mostly I wondered why he was defending his brother when there was obviously bad blood between them. And when Wyatt had supposedly gone to jail because he was a thief.

  “You still need to change the damn locks, Max,” Ruth insisted.

  “I will,” Max said with a sigh. “First thing tomorrow.”

  A few customers walked through the door and sat at a table in my section from the previous night.

  “We keeping the same sections as before?” I asked Ruth as I started to slide out of the booth.

  Her brow furrowed. “I’ve got a lot more questions for you, missy, so don’t think you got off the hook.” But she didn’t sound mad, just a little grumpy and a lot curious.

  “Got it. So same sections?”

  She shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

  Now that it was after five, more people wandered in for dinner. The dining room was packed by six, and Ruth and I were hopping to keep up while Tiny and Bitty cooked like a well-oiled machine in the kitchen.

  A few of the dinner customers were braver than the lunch patrons, asking me questions about the prior night. Was it true that I’d found Seth? Had he told me who’d shot him? A couple of them even asked if I’d been the one to pull the trigger.

  The dinner crowd cleared out by seven thirty and the drinkin’ crowd came in. Tonight it was just a few couples hanging out together and some older guys at the bar.

  Carson walked in around eight. I expected him to approach the bar to talk to Max, but to my surprise he took a seat in my section.

  He greeted me enthusiastically when I walked up to his table. “We didn’t have the chance to be properly introduced earlier,” he said with a smile. “I’m Carson Purdy. I work for the Drummonds.” He released a chuckle. “The elder Drummonds.”

  I smiled back, grateful for a friendly face after being pummeled by frowns all evening—even if the elder Drummonds had sent him here on some kind of fact-finding mission. “I’m Carly Moore.”

  He shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, Carly Moore. Max speaks highly of you. Says you’re from Georgia.”

  Was he fishing for information? The warm look on his face suggested he was just trying to be friendly, but I didn’t know enough about him to judge. “That’s right. I take it you were born and raised around here?”

  He laughed. “I’m from Ohio, believe it or not. I know how hard it can be to break into this town, so if you ever want to chat—outsider to outsider—you let me know.”

  He pulled a business card out of his shirt’s front pocket. Did he have a stack of them in there, or had he carried this one around just for me?

  “Thanks, Carson, but I’m not staying. Just passing through.”

  “Offer still stands.”

  I glanced at the card. He’d likely approached me with hopes of getting some information, and yet it occurred to me that I could do the same. He likely knew a lot about the town…and the Drummonds. “Have you worked for the Drummonds long?”

  “Since Max and Wyatt were boys. I was practically a kid myself.”

  “So you saw this town when it was in its prime.” Taking a risk, I added, “When the town and the Drummonds were thriving.”

  He hesitated, obviously suspicious of my comments. “You interested in the history of Drum or just the Drummonds?”

  I forced a chuckle. “From what I’ve come to understand, it’s one and the same.”

  Shifting in his seat, he picked up the saltshaker and twirled it between his fingers. “The Drummonds have run this town for nearly two hundred years, but times are hard.”

&n
bsp; “Max said his father had something secret in the works to help the town.”

  A grin lifted his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Max is speakin’ out of turn. Bart Drummond doesn’t like people discussin’ his personal business. If you want to stick around, you’d do best to remember that.”

  “I suppose you’ll be sure to report my nosiness,” I said before I thought better of it.

  “Not me,” he said, his smile returning. “You’re still learnin’ the way of the place, and like I said, us outsiders need to stick together.” He pointed to the card in my hand. “I meant what I said. We should have a chat sometime.”

  He seemed sincere, but I wasn’t sure what to think of him. Maybe it was a bad idea to trust anyone in Drum. “I take it you don’t need a few minutes to consider the drink menu?”

  He chuckled and asked for a Coke, which Max took over to him personally. The two of them chatted for several minutes, their heads bent together, and Carson left soon afterward. He’d left a pile of cash on the table, with a bigger tip than I’d gotten all night.

  About ten minutes later, Ruth approached me while I was standing by the kitchen window, taking a breather, but the look on her face told me my short moment of respite was over. I decided to head off the questions I knew were coming.

  “Does Carson Purdy come in here often?”

  She made a face. “Seein’ as how it’s one of the few places to eat in town, yeah. He’s here often enough.”

  “What’s he do for the Drummonds, anyway?”

  “He takes care of their land, runs errands, typical assistant stuff.”

  “And checks in with Max about the motel?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Was Carson Purdy Max’s ace in the hole? If so, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I wasn’t sure I wanted any help from the elder Drummonds—even if they were so inclined.

  Ruth gave me a questioning look, but when I didn’t offer any information, she changed the subject for me. “How is it that you caught a ride with Wyatt?” she asked in a hushed tone. “What in the world was he doin’ in Greeneville?”

  “Same as me,” I said. “Visiting Hank.”

  I expected her to show more surprise, but she simply pressed her lips together.

  “Is Wyatt a family friend?” I asked.

  “You could say,” she said. “Wyatt was kind of a mentor to the boy, and he helped out around the place. Hank’s been pretty much homebound for a while, so Wyatt ran the boy down to Greeneville and Ewing for things they couldn’t get in Drum.”

  Hearing that did something to me, as if a handful of rocks had been sent ricocheting through my empty places. Wyatt must have been devastated to hear the news. No wonder he’d shown up at the bar in such a state.

  “Did he hear you tell Mr. Hank about Seth’s last words?” Ruth asked.

  “No,” I said. “He showed up after I told the nurse I’d bring Hank home tomorrow morning.”

  She propped her hands on her hips and jutted her body to one side. “You did what, now?”

  I was having déjà vu of my conversation with Max. “The nurse told Hank that he’d have to go to a rehab center if no one showed up to get him. So I offered to do it.”

  “You must be out of your ever-lovin’ mind,” she said. “That man just had his leg amputated. Who’s gonna take care of him?”

  “I am,” I said “I’m gonna stay with him until his home health service kicks in at the end of the week.” Then I quickly added, “But I’m still gonna work here at the tavern.”

  “Who’s gonna watch him while you’re workin’?” Ruth asked.

  “I will,” a firm male voice said from the doorway to the back. Wyatt stood in the opening, his confident air demanding my attention. To my frustration, my reaction to him seemed to intensify every time I saw him. But the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t here for a friendly chat.

  “What the hell are you doin’ back here, Wyatt?” Ruth demanded, fury in her eyes. “Wasn’t busting in here last night enough for you?”

  “Max told me Carly was back here.”

  The veins in her neck popped out. “Max let you back here? We’ll just see about that.”

  Giving herself a wide berth around him, she marched off toward the bar.

  “I take it you two aren’t fast friends,” I said, gesturing to Ruth. Maybe their short romance hadn’t ended well.

  Standing in front of me, he turned to cast her a long glance, his face expressionless. “You could say that.”

  But he didn’t elaborate, and it was none of my concern. “Did I hear you correctly that you’ll stay with Hank while I’m working?”

  He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably. “He won’t stand for a full-time babysitter, whether it’s you, me, or a nurse. He’ll want us to check on him and get out.”

  “That’ll be hard to do if I’m living with him.”

  “About that…” He held my gaze. “That’s a bad idea.”

  “Why?” I asked, telling myself to listen to him before I jumped to any judgments. I’d just met Hank this morning and he’d been stricken by shock and grief. Maybe he was the devil incarnate and Wyatt was about to warn me. But I doubted it. Sure, Hank had been on the cantankerous side a few times, but I’d seen the sorrow in his eyes. He’d loved that boy with his entire being, and a man who loved that fiercely wasn’t evil.

  “Do you really want me to spell it out for you?” he asked, his face hardening.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a saucy glare. “Apparently I do.”

  His jaw tightened and he took a step closer, looming over me. “He’s a harmless old man. Leave him alone.”

  That wasn’t the response I’d been expecting. Especially after he’d been so kind to me earlier. I’d thought we’d come to an understanding, and it hurt more than it should to find out I was wrong.

  “What exactly do you think I’m going to do to him?” I asked, my temper flaring. “We went over this already. I didn’t kill that poor boy. I may be a stranger in town, but that’s no reason to assume I’d kill a child in cold blood.”

  He hesitated and said, “No. I know it wasn’t you.”

  That fanned the flames of my suspicion. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

  “Because I saw you after he died. You were too upset for it to have been you.”

  “You didn’t just show up here at three in the morning for nothing. What exactly do you think I did? What exactly are you accusing me of?” Another question lingered on my lips, unsaid: Did you find my gun?

  “I don’t know, Carly,” he said in exasperation. “Don’t you think it’s mighty coincidental that your car was broken into the same night Seth Chalmers was shot in front of your motel room?”

  I did. We both knew it likely wasn’t a coincidence, but he thought I’d done something wrong. He didn’t know my only crime was seeing something I shouldn’t have.

  “Sometimes there are coincidences, Wyatt, and apparently this is one of them.”

  “I’m going to go pick up Hank tomorrow morning,” he said in a grim tone. “I’ll bring him home and get him settled. Then I’ll schedule some of the women in town to drop in on him every few hours to make sure he’s okay. You don’t need to concern yourself with him. I’ll stay over at his house until he gets his service set up.” When he saw my gaping expression, he said, “You’re an outsider, Carly. You don’t belong here, and you definitely don’t need to be stayin’ in his house, stirrin’ up trouble.”

  While I was logical enough to realize he wasn’t completely off-base, I wasn’t about to back down. I’d made a promise to Hank, and my arrangement was with him, not Wyatt. Besides, I wanted to look for the evidence Seth had mentioned.

  But before I could say anything, Wyatt turned around and strode past a shocked Ruth, who’d returned in time to overhear every ugly word. From the look of him, he thought he’d just laid down the law and there was no reason for rebuttal.

  Fuck that.


  “I’m going to pick him up, Wyatt Drummond!” I shouted after him. “And I’ll be staying with him too, so you might as well climb off your tiny high horse and deal with it!”

  The customers’ chatter came to a dead halt.

  Wyatt stopped at the front door and turned back to face me, giving me an expressionless glance, then walked out.

  “Ruth,” I said, still staring after him. “I’m gonna need to borrow your car tomorrow morning.”

  She was watching him too, and while I’d worked up my temper, Ruth’s glare was full of hate. “I’ll make sure it has a full tank of gas.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I had no idea what time Wyatt planned on picking Hank up, but I was up by six and left at the same time Franklin did. Ruth assured me she’d catch a ride to work. I suspected Max himself would pick her up.

  Ruth had given me directions, which I’d written down since I didn’t have a GPS to guide me. I’d taken a travel mug of Franklin’s coffee out of desperation but could only force about half of it down. When I walked into Hank’s room, he was sitting upright in bed. His face lit up the moment he saw me, and he sent a smug look to Wyatt, who was sitting in the chair next to the bed, his chin in his hand, his elbow propped on the chair’s arm. He must have beaten me by a few minutes. Had he hoped to check Hank out before I arrived?

  “Good morning, Hank,” I said, approaching his bed. “Are you ready to go home today?”

  “I can’t get out of here fast enough.” He pressed the nurse’s call button multiple times.

  “I told you I’d give you a ride,” Wyatt said insolently, dropping his arm and sitting up straighter.

  “And I told you that Carly was comin’ and I’d wait for her.” He pressed the nurse’s button a few more times.

  “Yes, Mr. Chalmers?” a nurse asked over the intercom.

  “My ride’s here and I want to get the hell out.”

  “As I told the equally impatient man in your room, we just had a shift change. You’ll have to wait for us to finish your discharge paperwork.”