A Cry in the Dark

by Denise Grover Swank

  While the thought of spending the afternoon with him appealed to me far too much, I already had plans. “I appreciate the offer, but can I take a rain check? Every time I feed Hank, I feel like I’m killing him with food. I really want to see if there are any diabetic cookbooks in the library.”

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “Good idea.”

  Something lurched in my stomach. Should I tell him my other reason for going? I hesitated, although I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I was still worried he’d betray me, or it could be the opposite—maybe I knew it would twine us even closer together.

  By the time Ginger showed up, I was ready to go. I gave her a few instructions on how to care for Hank and then gathered my bag. At the last minute I grabbed the gun Max had given me from Seth’s room, where I’d stowed it in a nightstand drawer, and tucked it back into my purse. I could get in serious trouble for carrying a gun without a concealed carry permit, but it seemed worth the risk.

  Wyatt was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. Appreciation filled his eyes when he saw me. I’d taken a quick shower and blow-dried my hair, adding a bit of a wave to the short ends. I’d gone to the trouble of applying makeup, not enough to look done up, but enough so that I didn’t look so washed out and tired. I’d tucked my work shirt into my purse and was wearing a white eyelet peasant-style shirt with my jeans, a pair of black ankle boots, and a gray cardigan since my freshly washed jacket was hanging on the clothesline along with my other pair of jeans.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, and then his eyes widened slightly in surprise as though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

  “Thanks,” I said, descending the steps, suddenly feeling unbalanced.

  He walked alongside me as we made our way to the truck, and to my surprise, he opened the passenger door for me. My body was humming with anticipation as he came around and slid behind the wheel. When he turned over the key, he snuck a glance at me before looking back at the windshield.

  “I must have looked pretty rough before,” I teased.

  Wyatt shook his head. “No. You were beautiful before too.” He pulled onto the road and headed down the mountain. “I just never told you.”

  We rode in silence, my longing fighting with reason. I’d waited my whole life to feel something like this with a man. Why did he have to live in this godforsaken town?

  I knew it didn’t matter, that we couldn’t have any sort of future together, what with our dual vendettas against our fathers—his need to face his, my need to flee mine. But I couldn’t stop myself from trying to learn more about him.

  “How did you end up in prison, Wyatt?” I blurted out.

  “As you already know,” he said without any sign of defensiveness, “I was charged with a DUI and breaking and entering.”

  “But there were other charges at first. Robbery. I heard you broke into the garage you now own. Is any of that true?”

  He dared to sneak a quick glance at me. “Yeah. I broke into the garage, but I didn’t steal anything that wasn’t rightfully mine. And I was driving while drunk. I deserved the conviction. I could have killed someone.”

  “Is that why you wouldn’t allow your parents to hire an attorney?”

  He snorted. “No, I’d already told my father I didn’t want anythin’ to do with him or his money, and that included hirin’ me an attorney.”

  “What were you trying to get back that was yours?”

  He was silent for a moment, as if considering how much he wanted to share. I started to think he was done talking when he said, “A baseball. My grandfather had given it to me when I was a kid.” He shot me a sideways grin. “It was signed by Joe DiMaggio. I loved that stupid thing.”

  A baseball? It obviously had sentimental meaning if he’d gotten it from his grandfather. “How did it end up in the garage?”

  “My maternal grandfather and my dad didn’t get along, but that old man loved me, which pissed my father off to no end. So when I told my father I wanted nothin’ to do with him, he sold the baseball to Earl Cartwright out of spite. I tried to buy it back, but Earl refused to part with it. One night I was pissed and drunk—never a good combination—and I decided to get it out of the display case in Earl’s garage.”

  “So you got it back?” I asked.

  He shook his head with a wry look. “No. The sheriff took it as evidence. It went missing. My father paid Earl enough to get him to drop the robbery charges, then paid my girlfriend to leave town.” He tilted his head toward me. “He thought she wasn’t good enough for me.”

  “Was she?” I asked with a hint of a smile.

  “This was one of those rare instances when he was right. Turns out she was more interested in the Drummond money than the Drummond’s eldest son.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I faced the same thing. Turns out most men were more interested in the fact that I was the Blakely Oil heiress than they were in me.”

  “Including the guy you left at the altar?” he asked.

  “Nooo…” I said, drawing it out the word. “I didn’t technically leave him at the altar. I left him the night before the wedding. And while I’m sure Jake was interested in my father’s oil money, he was much more drawn to my father’s illegal business ventures.”

  His brow shot up. “Like corporate espionage?”

  I released a short laugh. “It’s a hell of a lot worse than that. Think drugs and arms smuggling.”

  “Shit,” he said, his shock evident. “Is that why he wants you back? Because you know too much?”

  “No, although I’m sure he’s probably concerned about that too.”

  He gave me a worried look. “So why does he want you?”

  Did I risk telling him? Hadn’t I already risked enough? What was this admission compared to everything else?

  Mistaking my hesitation, he said, “I’m not going to turn you in, Carly. I hope you know that by now.”

  I turned to him in surprise. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

  He smiled, his face lighting up. “Progress.”

  “Progress,” I admitted, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Admitting I was so dispensable to my father was humiliating. “How much do you want to know?”

  “As much as you’re willing to share. I’ll guard your secrets, Carly. I swear.”

  Call me a fool, but I believed him. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I think I need to start with my mother’s death,” I said, shifting my gaze to stare out the windshield. It hurt too much to look at him.

  To my surprise, he reached across the seat and took my hand, twining our fingers together. “Take your time.”

  His touch meant more than it should. Feeling like this was dangerous. Yet the warmth and strength of his hand gave me the courage to continue. “My mother was killed in a car accident when I was nine. Up until a year or so before she died, I thought my life was perfect. I knew we had money, but I didn’t truly understand it. I went to a private school where everyone had money.”

  “I knew,” Wyatt said softly. “I knew right away. Max and I went to public school, and the contrast between what we had and what our friends had was startling.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. “I suspect that was even harder, realizing everything you had while your friends struggled.”

  He shrugged. “It is what it is. Go on.”

  “I’m fairly certain my mother was happy. That’s how I remember it anyway. She and my father were trying to get pregnant. They kept talking about my future baby brother or sister. My father loved me. Doted on me. He couldn’t wait to have another baby. And then, suddenly, they started fighting. I was too young to truly understand what was happening, but now that I’m older, and after I heard my father talking to Jake…” I paused. “My father found out that I’m not his biological child. My mother had an affair.”

  “How did he find out?” Wyatt asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. The logical
guess is that they did fertility testing and my father found out he was sterile. It would explain why he never remarried and tried to have more kids. In any case, they both took it as gospel, so it must be true.”

  “So what happened?”

  “My mother was upset, and I didn’t understand what was going on. I only knew my father quit coming home most nights. Then my mother got in that accident, and I was left alone.” I shifted in my seat to look at him. “Only it turns out it wasn’t an accident. My father had her killed.”

  He squeezed my hand. “God, Carly. I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t see the point. “Hired help raised me until my father thought I was too old for a nanny. After that, I was alone in our mansion until I left for college, but through it all, I had Jake.”

  “Your former fiancé?” he asked in surprise.

  “One and the same. He was my best friend growing up, but now I’m pretty sure my father used him to keep tabs on me. He couldn’t be bothered to watch me himself.” I released a short laugh. “I didn’t understand why my father didn’t love me anymore, so I decided I must be unlovable.”

  “Carly.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “When I left for school, I swore I was never going back. That I was leaving forever. I went out east and got a college degree and a master’s in elementary education. But my father had left his mark on me, and I never really let myself get close to anyone. So when Jake called me and begged me to come back to Dallas, I went. Mostly because I was lonely, and I’d never really put down roots anywhere else.”

  “You started datin’ him?” he asked, his voice tight.

  “No,” I said, then took a second to gather my thoughts. “No, I got a job at my old private school and fell in love with a new batch of students every year. It felt safe. I knew they were leaving me, so it made it easier to get close to them.” I shook my head. “That sounds pathetic.”

  “No. Believe it or not, I can relate. My father manipulated everyone in this town, including my friends. I never trusted anyone.”

  “What about Max?” I asked, glancing at him. “Did you trust him?”

  “Max was the only one I could trust. Until I broke away from my father.” He sat up straighter. “You said men wanted you for your inheritance, so there must have been men in your life.”

  “I dated,” I admitted. “I had a few semiserious relationships, but they all ended the same way. With the guy falling all over himself to meet my father. I’d just ended the last one—a guy I was sure was different—until I found out he wasn’t. So I did what I always did and cried on Jake’s shoulder. He was between his many girlfriends, and we went out and got drunk, and the next thing I knew he proposed.”

  “You weren’t even datin’?”

  “We hadn’t even kissed at that point.”

  “But you said yes?”

  I sighed, feeling like a fool. “We were friends and I really wanted to have a family someday. I figured I knew what I was getting with Jake. I could trust him.” Releasing a bitter laugh, I said, “Boy was I wrong.” When he didn’t respond, I added, “Jake convinced me that the best component of a relationship was friendship. That we would eventually fall in love and we’d grow old together as best friends. That we’d raise our kids in a stable environment, and not the way we’d been raised.”

  When he didn’t comment, I said, “You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “No,” he said. “Quite the opposite. So why did you run? What happened?”

  “The rehearsal dinner was at my father’s house, and after the meal, Jake and my father wandered upstairs. I wondered what was taking them so long, so I went to find them.” I waited for the tears to come, but my eyes remained remarkably dry. “They were in my father’s upstairs study, smoking cigars and discussing the timeline of my upcoming accident. My father suggested that it should happen a few months after the wedding—not too soon for people to get suspicious, but not long enough for Jake to lose his nerve. To his credit, Jake said he thought it should be later.” My throat tightened. “At least until I’d had a baby or two to preserve the family lineage. Otherwise, my father’s partners might protest.”

  “What the fuck, Carly?” he asked, pulling his hand from mine and gripping the steering wheel so tightly it made a screeching sound. His outrage rose with every word. “Why would they kill you? Why not have the bastard divorce you? Or better yet, not marry you at all. Just hand it over to the fucker, since it sounds like you never wanted the money anyway?”

  “I’ve since found out that my father’s part of an international crime syndicate called the Hardshaw Group. Three men run it, all successful businessmen in their own right. They made some archaic rule that their positions can only be handed down to blood. If the inheriting biological child dies, then the spouse can take over. And since he must have realized that I didn’t have the stomach for it, he needed a son-in-law he could trust. He’d been grooming Jake for years, and Jake was just biding his time until I was weak enough to marry someone I didn’t love. I suspect he paid a few of the jerks I’d dated to make sure I was primed and desperate enough to accept his proposal.”

  He was silent for a long stretch before he said in a calmer tone, “So you overheard them then ran?”

  “Yeah. I went to a friend Jake didn’t know about and stayed with him for the weekend while I tried to figure out what to do. Austin and I both decided the best thing I could do was run. He gave me his mother’s old car, and I took off toward Arkansas, where my car promptly died outside of a town called Henryetta. I was fortunate that two women found me and took me in. Rose gave me a job and let me stay at her house. The last month I took care of her dying sister.”

  “Jesus, Carly. I feel like an ass over the way I treated you with Hank. You’re more qualified to take care of him than I am.”

  I shook my head. “No. Violet was dying from leukemia. There weren’t any wounds to take care of, and she spent most of her last days sleeping.” Tears streaked down my cheeks. “I only knew her two months, but her death ripped my heart out.”

  “Is that why you left?” he asked.

  I wiped the tears from my face. “No. I found out that someone from Hardshaw had discovered I was there. So I left, because I don’t have any evidence implicating my father or Jake, and Hardshaw’s too big and powerful for one person to fight. I can’t get justice for my mother or for me, but I can get justice for Seth.”

  “You don’t have to find justice for Seth alone. I loved that boy. I want to make his killers pay for his death as much or more than you do.” Silence lingered between us for a moment. Then he said, “You know more about his murder than you’ve let on.”

  It was time to tell him.

  “I do,” I admitted.

  He shot me a glance.

  “You’ve suspected,” I said. “Don’t look so surprised.”

  “I’m surprised you’re tellin’ me is all. Hank knows what you saw. That’s why you went to see him in the hospital.”

  “Seth asked me to give him a message and warned me not to tell the sheriff. I was hoping Hank would know who to turn to for help.”

  “He didn’t suggest me?” he asked, his voice tight.

  “No, but I think part of it was to protect you.”

  “But most of it was because he doesn’t trust me.”

  We both knew he was right.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Do you trust me?”

  “I’m about to tell you what I saw. I think that’s answer enough.” And I did. I told him about waking up and seeing the three men. About setting off my car alarm and watching, helpless, as that man shot Seth and then took off with the others in the red truck. About running out and finding Seth bleeding to death. Listening to Seth’s last words. Sending Max to find the gun and key fob only to learn they were missing. But I held back the numbers on Seth’s hand, because it might make him change his mind about going to Ewing. If his source knew something, I wasn’t going to give Wyatt a r
eason to cancel.

  He was quiet for nearly a minute, and I could see he was processing everything.

  “Somebody knows you’re lyin’. They have the proof with your gun and your key fob.”

  “Max swears a deputy couldn’t have gotten it. Do you think he took them?” I didn’t think so, but Wyatt had known his brother far longer.

  “No. Max is too protective of you to have set you up. He’s not lyin’.”

  Relief rushed through me, I wanted to able to trust Max.

  I gave Wyatt a tight smile. “When you came into the tavern and accused me of doing something, I wondered if you’d found them.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’ve been an utter ass to you. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” I said. “I like that you’re so protective of them.”

  “I’m protective of the people I care about Carly.” Something in his words warmed my blood…and other parts.

  We were closing in on Drum as I turned sideways in my seat to face him. “I am too.”

  He slowed down and gave me a long, searching look. “I know.”

  He pulled into a parking spot across the street from the library and put the truck in park. Tucking his leg at an angle on the seat, he turned to face me completely. “I don’t feel good about leavin’ you. I’m worried Bingham might try to snatch you and question you about what you know.”

  I realized I hadn’t filled him in on that part. “He won’t. Unless he’s not a man of his word.”

  His body stiffened. “What did Hank do?”

  “It was my doing,” I said. “It seemed the safest way to get him to let me be.”

  “What arrangement did you make?”

  “We’re meeting in public for ten minutes, and we get to ask each other questions.”

  His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You want to ask Bingham questions? Have you lost your mind? Do you plan to tell him everything?”

  “No. Hank said it’s never best to show your hand right off the bat, and in this instance, I think he’s right. I plan to tell Bingham as little as possible and let him sort the rest out.”