A Cry in the Dark

by Denise Grover Swank

  “That’s what I had thought too, but I feel like he’s been watching me. Since the shooting, he’s always around. He’s at the tavern while I’m working, and I saw him across the street when I left the library. Plus, Bingham knew I’d kissed you in the truck. What if Jerry has been following me for him?”

  “That doesn’t explain the numbers and the website,” Wyatt said.

  “What if Jerry’s reporting to someone else?” I asked.

  His lips pursed. “Jerry would be the last person on any suspect list for any crime, but I’m not going to dismiss this. I think we need to do more digging.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Who else?”

  Movement in the side mirror caught my attention, and I caught sight of Bitty hurrying out the back door toward the street. A red pickup truck was parked on the side of the street, its headlights on and a white cloud billowing from the exhaust pipe. Bitty was leaning into the open window on the passenger side.

  My heart skipped a beat. The truck had a long scratch on the back side panel. It was the getaway truck from Seth’s murder.

  A loud pop filled the air and Wyatt threw himself on top of me.

  The squeal of tires filled my ears as I scrambled to push Wyatt off me. “That’s the truck!”

  “Stay down,” he grunted, wrapping himself around me.

  I strained against him and got free. “Wyatt. I’m fine!”

  But the prostrate body on the sidewalk revealed that Bitty wasn’t.

  And the truck was long gone.

  Chapter Thirty

  I was thankful Detective Daniels hadn’t been assigned to Bitty’s murder, although I had to wonder why not. I wasn’t an expert, but two murders within less than a hundred feet from one another in four days? Even I knew her murder was somehow related to Seth’s. Not that I was sharing that information with the sheriff’s deputies.

  Wyatt and I gave our statements, and then Detective Marta White interviewed Tiny, Max, and Ruth to see if Bitty had any enemies.

  “She wasn’t the friendliest woman in the world,” Tiny admitted. “But she didn’t have anyone who hated her enough to kill her.”

  The detective nodded. “She havin’ any money trouble?”

  Tiny released a scoff. “Who doesn’t around these parts?”

  Max closed the tavern early, and we all sat around a table waiting for Detective White to give us permission to go home.

  “Who do you think did it?” Ruth asked Max and Tiny.

  Max shook his head and took a long pull of his whiskey. “Haven’t got a clue.”

  But I was starting to come up with my own conclusion. One I wasn’t comfortable sharing with anyone except Wyatt.

  We left an hour later, and I didn’t waste any time telling Wyatt my theory as soon as he started driving me toward Hank’s.

  “What if it was Bitty?” I asked. “What if she got the website and login info?”

  “How would Bitty get that?” he asked in disbelief. “I doubt she knew much about usin’ a computer let alone how to find a deleted history.”

  “What if she didn’t need the history? She brought me lunch in Max’s office. I’m pretty sure I was on the video cam website, Wyatt.”

  He inhaled sharply. “But she’d still need the username.”

  “You told me the email address out loud. She could have heard it. I said the numbers out loud too.” How could I have been so careless?

  “And she gave the information to one of the murderers,” he said. “Maybe she thought she was meetin’ him to get her reward, but instead of money, she got a bullet to her head.”

  Sadly, I suspected he was right.

  “Shit.” He shot me a glance. “Someone’s tyin’ up loose ends.”

  My stomach dropped.

  He hit the brakes and pulled to the side of the road, making a screeching U-turn before heading back to Drum.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, starting to panic.

  “Gettin’ you the hell out of this town.” He hit the gas and started to speed.

  “Wyatt, slow down. We can’t risk getting pulled over.”

  “I’m not slowing down until we’re out of this county,” he said, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

  But he did adjust his speed as we passed through Drum. I cast a glance at the motel as we slowly pulled past it. The crime scene tape was gone, and so was the old station wagon.

  “Who owns that old station wagon that’s always there?” I asked, my voice tight. “I’ve never seen it gone.”

  “It’s Jerry’s.”

  “Where’s Jerry?” I asked in a panic. “What if someone kills him next?”

  “We can’t worry about Jerry right now,” Wyatt said, reaching over and snagging my hand. “You are my main concern. Once I know you’re safe, I’ll find him.”

  “What about Hank? Who’s going to take care of him tonight?”

  “He’s fine on his own. After Max called and said Bingham had you cornered, he practically kicked me out the door with his remaining foot.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “Hank will be fine. That man knows how to take care of himself.”

  We’d made it through to the other side of Drum, and Wyatt increased his speed but kept to the speed limit on the winding road. As we approached the turnoff to Ewing, red flashing lights appeared behind us.

  I turned in my seat, trying to see into the windshield of the pursuing car, but the glare of the headlights made it impossible. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not speeding,” Wyatt said. “They have no reason to pull me over.”

  My stomach churned. “So you’re not pulling over?”

  “No.”

  Wyatt was a convicted felon. What kind of trouble could he get into if he didn’t obey an officer of the law?

  I started to cry.

  He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna make sure you’re safe.”

  “I’m more worried about you.”

  He shot me a grin. “I knew you liked me,” he said, repeating what I’d told him when I was saving him from the truck.

  “Wyatt.”

  He eyed the rearview mirror.

  Desperate for a solution that wouldn’t end in his arrest, I said, “If we pull over and Deputy Spigot gets out of the car, we’ll take off before he reaches your door. Or we can call ahead somewhere and tell them we’re worried for our safety. That way we can prove we had just cause to not pull over.”

  He frowned but gave it a couple of seconds of consideration. Moments later, he made a hard right onto the county road toward Ewing and picked up his radio. It shocked the hell out of me when I heard him say, “Drummond Ranch. Do you copy?”

  “You’re calling your father?”

  He cast a glance at the sheriff car that was still trailing us. “Other than Bingham, he’s the only one powerful enough to help us, and I’d rather not be askin’ any favors from Bingham.”

  “The devil you know,” I said, my heart sinking. This was all my fault.

  “Drummond Ranch,” Wyatt said, more insistently. “This is Wyatt Drummond needing emergency assistance. Copy?”

  “Wyatt?” Carson’s voice crackled over the radio. “Where are you?”

  “On Highway 25, heading toward Ewing. I have a deputy with lights following us, and I don’t think it’s legit. I have Carly with me, and I suspect Seth Chalmers’ murderers are tyin’ up loose ends.”

  “I’m coming back from Ewing,” Carson said, “I have a few men with me. Pull into the parking lot for Balder Mountain Trailhead, and I’ll meet you there in five minutes with reinforcements.”

  “Roger,” Wyatt said, but he didn’t look reassured.

  “Do you trust him?”

  “While there’s no love lost between me and my father, my mother is a different story.” He cast me a quick glance. “She’s why I came back. She’s sick. Cancer.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “Wyatt. I’m sorry.”

  He gave a quick shake of his
head. “I’m only tellin’ you because Carson has a soft spot for her. He won’t let anything happen to me. It would kill her if something happened to me.”

  “Then we’ll do as he says and meet him there.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  The sheriff’s car still followed us, but it wasn’t gaining on us. The driver didn’t seem too worried about the possibility of losing us.

  “What if the sheriff car’s legit?” I asked.

  “I don’t see how,” Wyatt said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He made the turnoff for the trailhead, then pulled into the lot and parked the truck sideways in front of the trail. “Come on,” he said, unfastening his seatbelt while I did the same. “We’re sittin’ ducks here. We’ll hide in the trees until Carson shows up.”

  I fumbled with the door handle, then practically fell out, remembering to grab my purse at the last minute. Wyatt took my hand and pulled me into the darkness. The path was smooth at the entrance, but less than ten feet in, my boot hit a stone and I nearly face-planted. Wyatt caught me just before I hit, but my ankle screamed with pain.

  The sheriff car pulled to a halt, and a few seconds later a man called out, “Wyatt! It’s Marco! Max’s friend!”

  Wyatt froze as though weighing his options. He positioned us behind a tree, pressing my belly into the trunk while his body completely covered mine from behind.

  “Why were you tryin’ to pull me over?” he yelled back.

  “Detective White is worried about Carly. She thinks someone is going to try to kill her. I’m supposed to bring her to the sheriff’s station until the state troopers arrive.”

  “Why is she involving the state troopers?” Wyatt shouted back.

  “Because we’ve tied Deputy Spigot to Seth Chalmers’ murder with the bullet casings found in the parking lot. She thinks the department needs outside supervision.”

  Wyatt was silent for a moment. “This is your call,” he whispered.

  “You believe him?”

  He pushed out a heavy sigh. “I don’t trust anyone as far as you’re concerned.”

  “What if we ask him to escort us to the nearest state troopers’ headquarters?” I glanced over my shoulder at him. “He could have tried to run us off the road, but he didn’t. He kept his distance.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why he didn’t call me on the radio. Everyone in town knows my call sign.”

  He had a point.

  Wyatt spun me around so that I was facing him, pressing my back to the tree.

  “I’m not sure the best way to handle this,” he admitted. “I just know I can’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “Wyatt…” My voice broke.

  “I’ve been waiting my entire life for someone like you, Charlene Moore,” he said with a chuckle, but his voice broke, and it wasn’t lost on me that he’d used my alias. “I don’t want to risk losin’ you now.” He paused for a moment. “If you still want to leave when this nightmare is over—and if you’re open to it—I’ll go with you. We’ll find a way to take down your father so you’ll be safe.”

  His mouth lowered to mine as his hand skimmed my neck. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I kissed him back with everything I had.

  “Let’s go with my plan,” I said, pulling away slightly. “Do you know where the nearest state trooper headquarters is?”

  “Knoxville. That’s two hours away.”

  “Then we better get movin’,” I said with a forced smile.

  He let that settle for a second, then called out, “Okay. We’re comin’ out, Marco, but we’re going to the Highway Patrol headquarters in Knoxville ourselves.”

  “That’s fine,” Marco called out. “But I still plan on givin’ you an escort to keep Carly safe.”

  Wyatt took my hand and led me back to the path. My ankle still hurt, and I limped slightly, but at least I could put weight on it. We’d just started down the path when I heard a truck engine approaching.

  “That’s bound to be Carson,” Wyatt said as we continued heading out. “I’ll let him know the plan.”

  But just as we reached the opening of the trailhead, two gunshots rang out, and Wyatt hauled me back into the trees.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Wyatt ran deeper into the woods, but the tree canopy was so thick I struggled to see the path. My burner phone didn’t have a flashlight, but I wouldn’t have risked using one anyway. The path was littered with rocks of various sizes, which tumbled as we climbed, revealing our position.

  “You’re safe now, Carly,” Carson called out. “You can come on out.”

  Beams of light speared the darkness, so I pulled Wyatt off the path into the trees. We crouched in front of a small opening in the leaves that gave us a bird’s-eye view of the parking lot.

  At the trailhead, Wyatt’s tow truck had obscured our view of the deputy’s SUV, but I could now see it parked at the back end of the tow truck. Ten feet to the side of the sheriff’s vehicle was the beat-up old pickup truck that I’d now seen at two murders.

  “Carson was the driver, not Dwight,” I whispered. “Carson killed Bitty. That’s the truck.”

  “You’re certain?” When I shot him a dirty look, he lifted a hand. “Sorry. I had to ask.”

  Carson stood next to the tow truck and was looking inside the window. A rifle hung from his right hand.

  “We’re in deep shit, aren’t we?” I whispered.

  “We’re definitely at a disadvantage without a gun,” he conceded.

  “I have one.” I opened my purse and pulled it out. “But there are only four bullets.” Foolishly, I’d left the box of ammunition at Hank’s.

  Wyatt frowned as he reached for it.

  “Are you allowed to hold a gun?” I asked. “Isn’t it against the law for you because of your felony?”

  He took the gun from me and checked the clip. “I’ll do whatever is needed to keep you safe, but in this case, you’re keepin’ the gun. I’m going to lead him deeper into the woods, and you’re going to hide in the trees until he passes you. Once he’s out of sight, run to the truck and go get help.” He handed the gun back to me, and I tucked it in the waistband of my jeans at my back.

  I clutched his arm. “I’m not leaving you here, Wyatt.”

  “It’s you he wants, not me. I’ll be fine.”

  I didn’t buy that for a second. “Wyatt.”

  “Look, Carly. You’re not used to hiking, and you’re definitely not wearing the right footwear.” He glanced down at my ankle boots. “Carson’s an experienced hiker, and if we try to run together, he will catch up with us. This is the best plan. Take the gun and the tow truck and head back to Drum. Go to Max. He’ll help.”

  I could see the wisdom of his plan, but it seemed like the chickenshit way to go. Even though I didn’t stand much of a chance of protecting him against a murderer, it felt like I’d be relinquishing all control of the situation if I just left.

  “Carly,” he begged in a whisper. “Please. I’ll be okay. I know this trail like the back of my hand.”

  “Okay,” I said, mostly because I knew I would slow him down and this way he might have a chance. “I’ll go to Max.”

  He gave me a soft kiss.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful,” I said. “Because I need you too.”

  He grinned against my lips. “Nothin’s keepin’ me from you, Carly Moore. Now do what we discussed, okay? Take off and get Max.”

  He pressed the keys into my hand and headed toward the trail.

  “What happened to the deputy?” Wyatt shouted down to Carson once he was back on the path and heading up the incline.

  Carson was squatted next to the tow truck, looking underneath, but at the sound of Wyatt’s voice he stood and turned to face the trail entrance. “You were right about the police being crooked. I got some information that he intended to hurt Carly,” Carson said as he started for the trail, his rifle now slung over his shoulder. “I had to protect her.”

  “I’m sure Max will appreciate it,�
�� Wyatt called out as he climbed the rocky trail, making a lot more noise than he had before. “He and Tiny have grown quite attached to her.”

  “Seems like both Drummond boys have.”

  Wyatt was right about Carson being experienced. He was advancing up the trail at a much faster pace than I had with Wyatt.

  “Why don’t you come on down?” Carson said good-naturedly. “You’ve got nothing to be worried about now.”

  “Seems like a good night for stargazing,” Wyatt called down. “I used to bring girls up here all the time when I was growin’ up. Hate to be rude, Carson, but you’re killing the mood.”

  Carson laughed. He was about to pass my position on the trail, and I realized why Wyatt was keeping him talking—we would both know Carson’s location, and Carson wouldn’t think we were purposefully hiding.

  “I have to say that I’ve never brought a woman up here,” Carson said. “Maybe you could show me the best spot.”

  They were silent for several seconds, but I could hear Carson’s footsteps on the rocky part of the trail. Which meant he’d be able to hear me too.

  They were both moving at a fast clip, and Wyatt had a good lead. Still, Wyatt wouldn’t have any way of defending himself if Carson caught up with him. He didn’t have a gun.

  “There’s a good spot up here,” Wyatt shouted. “You can check it out, but Carly and I will have to find another one.”

  “That’s not very hospitable,” Carson said, and I realized he was about twenty feet above me.

  Time to move.

  My heart was pounding with fear, equal parts for me and for Wyatt. I didn’t feel right about leaving him, but I told myself it was the best way to get him help.

  Holding on to the trees, I descended down the side of the trail, trying to keep the sound to a minimum.

  “Have you got a girlfriend, Carson?” Wyatt asked, his voice echoing. He was starting to sound winded. He must be in a clearing, which meant he wouldn’t have much cover. “In all these years, I’ve known you to have dated only a handful of women.”

  I had been descending at a slow pace, but once I hit a dirt path, I fled at a faster clip. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light, so I could better see the terrain.