Her Scream in the Silence: Carly Moore #2

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Why are you askin’ me?” he asked defensively.

  “You seem to know more about her personal life than Ruth does.”

  A frown tilted his mouth down. “Ruth is hard on ’er. She thinks Lula’s slow and dimwitted, and she’s hurt her feelin’s more times than I can count. Lula purposefully keeps her personal life from Ruth because she doesn’t want her to rip it apart.”

  I felt disloyal for even thinking it, but I suspected Marco was probably right. I’d seen their dynamic play out the night before at the tavern. “Surely Lula has someone she talks to. A friend she confides in.”

  “As you’ve figured out, working at the tavern doesn’t leave much time for socializin’, but last I heard, her closest friend is Greta Hightower.”

  I repeated her name. “Where have I heard that name before?”

  “She’s a waitress at Watson’s,” he said.

  I shook my head, working it over. “That’s not it.” I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “Max slept with her and pissed her off.”

  Marco cringed. “Yeah, Max mentioned something about that.”

  “Do you think you can talk to her?”

  He snorted. “I’m not sure she’ll talk to me. I’m guilty by association with Max.”

  “Then there’s no way she’ll talk to me. I work for him. And then there’s the fact I’ve been filling in for her best friend at the tavern. She might be one of the people who think I’m trying to steal Lula’s job.”

  “Maybe you can butter her up by talkin’ bad about Max.”

  I was already shaking my head. “Max has been more than generous to me. I won’t do that to him.”

  “Well, you took Lula home last night, and you’re lookin’ for her now. Surely she’ll want to help you find her.”

  “If she trusts me. It’s all about trust, Marco.”

  “Yeah,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up, “but you have a way of makin’ people trust you, Carly. Just be honest with her and she’ll see that you’re on the up and up.”

  I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Well, I won’t be talking to her tonight. I’m barely going to get to work on time as it is, but I’m off tomorrow afternoon.” I gave him a sly smile. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

  “Why do I think it’s going to Watson’s Café for breakfast with you?”

  “Because you’re more than just a pretty face, Marco Roland.”

  “Ha!” he said with a laugh. “Try convincin’ my boss of that.”

  “You’ll prove it to him by finding Lula.”

  “She still could have taken off again, Carly.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded, because I’d had a few moments of doubt. “But my gut tells me that someone took her. And I feel really guilty about going to work knowing she’s in trouble.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, me too, but you have to promise me you won’t go off and try looking into this by yourself. It’s too damn dangerous, Carly.”

  “You’re going to help?”

  “Only if we do it together.”

  “Really?” This felt too good to be true. I’d been prepared to make a half dozen other arguments to turn him around.

  “Look,” he said. “It’s like I told you, I’ve got nothing but time on my hands, and I’m worried about her too. I could get in trouble running an investigation on my own while I’m on medical leave, but if you’re searchin’ with me, it’s just two people lookin’ for a friend.”

  I raked my bottom lip with my teeth. “Do you think I should call in sick to work tonight?”

  “If we had a solid lead to follow, then yeah, maybe. But we’re chasin’ our tails at this point, and it’s Friday night. Max and Ruth need you. Plus, maybe you can pick up information from the customers.”

  He had a point, but I still hated the idea of doing nothing until tomorrow. If someone had taken Lula against her will, we didn’t have much time to help her. Given she was gone, I’d be pulling a double on Sunday and Monday. Tomorrow would be my only chance to look into her disappearance for the next few days.

  When I raised my concerns to Marco, he released a long groan. “How about this? I’ll drop you off at Watson’s so you can see if Greta’s there. But I’ve got the waitress schedule there down pat, and she’s typically off on Fridays.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You know the waitresses’ schedules?”

  “Hey,” he said defensively. “When I’m on shift, I usually eat lunch there.”

  “Not Max’s?”

  He grinned. “I can’t look like I have favorites.”

  I snorted. “Let me guess—they hire pretty waitresses.”

  His grin lit up his eyes as he stole a glance in my direction. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

  When we got into town, he found a parking space on Main Street, a few shops down from Watson’s Café.

  “You don’t have to wait for me, Marco,” I said. “I can just walk down to the tavern when I’m finished.”

  “I’ll stick around in case she’s there. I want to see what you find out.”

  “Okay.” I got out and strode down the nearly deserted sidewalk to the café, tugging my jacket tighter around me. The wind had picked up, and it was colder than it had been earlier. I wondered if another storm was moving in. That wouldn’t bode well for my search for Lula. I’d been warned that the mountain roads sometimes became impassable when there was a heavy snow. I’d already stocked Hank’s cupboards with enough staples to keep us fed for a week if, or more likely when, that happened.

  The smell of fresh apple pie hit me full in the face when I walked through the door to Watson’s, and my stomach grumbled. I took a second to orient myself. Although I’d had their breakfast sandwiches, I’d never been inside the café before, but I’d walked past it a dozen or so times on my way to the library.

  The dining area was smaller than in Max’s Tavern, and the tight space was crammed with tables, but the walls were a pale blue and the large windows made it seem lighter and airier. Only a handful of tables had customers—a group of teens and an older couple. I didn’t see any waitstaff, but as I walked toward the back, a woman called out, “Just take a seat anywhere.”

  “Thanks…” I said, realizing I should have come up with a script. “I can’t stay, but I was hoping to put in a to-go order.” I hadn’t intended to get anything, but now I was starving and it gave me an excuse for being here. Even if Greta wasn’t working, the other waitstaff might know something useful about Lula.

  A young woman popped out of the back. “Sure thing.” She was wearing a pink waitress dress with a white collar, plus white sneakers with white cuffed socks. Thank goodness Max didn’t make us wear anything so cheesy. Her head tilted as she studied me, her long blonde ponytail swishing to the side. “Say, aren’t you the new waitress at Max’s?”

  “Sure am,” I said in a cheery voice. “Marco Roland tells me he eats here all the time, so I thought I’d pick up something for the both of us.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed, but it looked more like confusion than any sort of malicious intent. “I thought you were datin’ Wyatt Drummond.”

  Word sure did get around in a small town. “I’m not seeing him anymore.” It wasn’t her business, but I needed information from her, so I hoped my own transparency would help. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t set my sights on Marco,” I added with a laugh. “We’re just friends.”

  “I heard you saved his life.”

  My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “There was a lot of mutual savin’ goin’ on that night.”

  “I guess something like that would bind people together,” she said with a soulful look.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “It does.” I pulled my mouth into a wider smile. “Say, do you have a menu I can look over?”

  “What was I thinkin’?” she said with a laugh, then grabbed a menu off a table. “Here you go, but if you’re not sure what to get Marco, he usually gets the double cheeseburger and double fries.”

 
; I took the menu from her and quickly scanned it, shaking my head. “Why am I not surprised he goes for all the grease?”

  “Right?” she asked with a laugh. “If I ate all those calories every day, I’d gain twenty pounds.”

  “Well, he’s still recovering from his gunshot wounds, so let’s give him his comfort food,” I said. “And I’ll take a club sandwich and a side salad with ranch dressing.” Max’s Tavern didn’t have salads, and while I didn’t have high hopes for this one, some vegetables would be nice, even if it turned out to consist mostly of tasteless iceberg lettuce.

  “Good choice,” she said, pulling a small notepad out of her pocket and writing the order down. “I’m Greta, by the way.”

  My mouth nearly dropped open, and it took me a second to process who she was and figure out how to react. I stuck out my hand. “I’m Carly. Nice to meet you.”

  She gave me an odd look but loosely shook my hand.

  I laughed. “Sorry. I guess you already knew my name.”

  “Yeah,” she said with a grin. “I did. Let me put your order in. Have a seat if you like.” She gestured to an empty booth next to where we stood.

  I slid into the seat, relieved she didn’t seem to hold a grudge against me, but I still wasn’t sure how to handle my questions about Lula. Given that Greta didn’t seem so sour on Marco after all, I should have probably left this to him. Maybe she’d forgiven him after his near-death experience. I was sure his good looks didn’t hurt.

  Greta came back out and took the seat opposite me. “I told Fred I was takin’ a break.”

  I took a quick glance at the room, then said, “Seems like a good time to take one.”

  She gave me a conspiratorial grin. “Well, I’ve only been workin’ about a half hour, but the dinner rush’ll hit soon enough, and then I’ll be hopping for the rest of my shift. I figured you and I could get to know each other a little since you and Lula are workin’ together.”

  “I confess that I was worried you’d think I was trying to steal Lula’s job,” I admitted.

  She leaned back in her seat, getting comfortable. “I’ll admit it crossed my mind, but then she came in yesterday and said you were super sweet and you two were job sharin’.” She leaned closer. “Thanks for not stealin’ it out from under her. I heard Max was fit to be tied this last time.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I said, “but do you know why she left in the first place?”

  She made a face and shot a glance at the table of teenagers. “What does it matter?”

  “Max and Ruth are none too happy that she keeps runnin’ off, but I figure they’ll be more understandin’ if she has a good reason.”

  “There’s no need to worry about that now,” Greta said with a wave of dismissal. “She’s back now.”

  “Greta,” I said slowly, “Lula’s gone again.”

  She stared at me as though I’d sprouted a unicorn head. “What are you talkin’ about? She just got back yesterday.”

  “I know,” I said, “but she didn’t show for her shift at noon today. I was worried that maybe she had car trouble, so I went to her place this afternoon and she wasn’t there.”

  She frowned and I could see she was still processing what I’d said. “That doesn’t mean she took off.”

  “Her car was out front, and she’d left a lantern on and a fire burning in her woodstove. Seems like she’d know better than to leave the place like that if someone came to pick her up. I brought Marco back with me, and she was still gone.”

  She began to gnaw on her bottom lip.

  “Given her history, he said no deputy will look into it. At least not this soon, and likely not at all. But the two of us looked at her property together. There were tracks in the snow, plus tire prints from a big dually truck. Someone was out there.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” she said, shifting to the side as she tucked a leg under the other on the seat. “If her car was still there.”

  “So you think she left willingly?” I asked. “Even though she knew if she didn’t show up for her shift at noon today she would likely be fired?”

  “Lula is impulsive,” she said, staring at a spot of dried ketchup on the Formica-topped table, but her statement lacked conviction.

  “Do you know who might have picked her up?”

  “It could have been anyone,” she said, still keeping her gaze on the table.

  “Does she have a boyfriend right now? Could he have picked her up?”

  She snorted. “Lula doesn’t do boyfriends. Her mother’s convinced her that all men are jerks, that she should get what she needs and move on.”

  “So she’s made her way through a lot of men,” I said thoughtfully.

  Her face jerked up, her eyes blazing. “Lula is not a slut.”

  Horrified, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think that. I’m sorry if I unintentionally gave that impression.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, but only slightly.

  “I’m just trying to figure out if she left her home willingly, because I have this gut instinct that she’s in trouble.”

  Greta narrowed her eyes. “Why would you care? You hardly know her, and on top of that, your hours are gonna get cut now that she’s back. Sounds like if anyone had motive to take her, it was you.”

  My heart jumped. Crap. I hadn’t even considered that I might be a suspect, but as far as I knew, I was the last one to have seen her alive.

  It occurred to me belatedly that my reaction to her comment had probably made me look guilty. Leaning forward, I lowered my voice and said, “Look, you’re right—I barely know Lula. I only met her yesterday afternoon, but she’s probably one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Todd Bingham came in with his motley crew and made her anxious. It didn’t help that he kept staring at her. I could tell he worried her, and since I’m older than her, I guess my big sister instincts kicked in. So I put him in my section so she didn’t have to deal with him.” To prove to her that Lula, at least, trusted me, I added, “Then I drove her home in the snow because she didn’t have a car.”

  “She said she was going to have Max drive her home,” Greta said, her tone softening, but her guard was still up.

  I understood. It wasn’t smart to blindly trust the citizens of Drum. There were many lines in the sand, and the wind was always blowing. Someone loyal to Bart Drummond one week might fall in line with Bingham the next, especially since Bart’s right-hand man had killed so many people. I wasn’t sure where Greta’s loyalty lay, but I was hoping it was with her friend.

  “With our new shared hours, Max was upstairs,” I said. “She asked Ruth for a ride home, but I offered.”

  Frown lines creased her forehead. “She must have been desperate if she asked Ruth. That woman has it in for her.”

  Marco had said something similar, although not quite in those terms. I understood why Ruth struggled with Lula—her behavior was frustrating, and sometimes it required the people around her to work twice as hard. Still, there was something about Lula that made me want to save her from that one-room shack. To protect her from her mother. To show her that she had more worth than the men she slept with. To help her make sure her baby was healthy and had a safe delivery.

  But I had to find her first. And hope to God she was still alive.

  I shuddered and Greta’s eyes narrowed even more.

  “You have no reason to trust me,” I said. “I’m new to town, and now I’m asking about your friend after I told you she’s missing. It’s suspicious. I have no idea how to prove myself to you, but I hope you can see my sincerity. I think she’s in trouble and I’m trying to find her. I’ll do everything in my power to save her job and help her with the baby.”

  Greta gasped and jerked backward, her back slamming into her seat.

  Oh crap. “You didn’t know she was pregnant?”

  “You did?”

  I gave her a sad smile. “She let it slip. I take it she’s five or six months along. Her mother apparently wants her to deliver the bab
y in that uninsulated shack. Without a midwife or any medical supervision. I knew I couldn’t change her mind, at least not during the drive to her house, but I did get her to agree to take prenatal vitamins if I got them in Greenville this morning.”

  Greta watched me for a few seconds. “I should have thought of the prenatal vitamins.”

  “My friend is pregnant. She was kind of beside herself when she found out she was two months pregnant and hadn’t taken any. I guess it really stuck in my subconscious.”

  Greta relaxed a little. “I told Lula that her mother’s crazy. She needs a doctor, but she won’t listen.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “Not long,” she reluctantly admitted. “She told me in October, a few weeks before she took off last time. Honestly, I don’t think she’d known that long herself. Her periods have always been irregular. In fact, she thought she couldn’t get pregnant, so she’s never been too careful.”

  “That’s why she’s not sure about the due date?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Did she tell you who the father was?”

  Her eyes hardened. “How is that any of your business?”

  “Because the father could be unhappy he’s about to be a daddy. Maybe he’s the one who carted her off.”

  “The father doesn’t know.”

  “But you know who the father is?”

  She inhaled a deep breath and slowly pushed it out. I could tell she was buying herself a few seconds to consider her response. “I don’t feel comfortable telling you anything else.”

  I resisted the urge to groan. While she’d shared helpful information, none of it would help me find Lula.

  “I know you don’t trust me,” I said. “And I understand why—truly, I do. But Marco and I are the only ones who think she didn’t leave on her own, which means the sheriff’s department won’t look into it, and Max will never give me time off to search. I only have tomorrow to look for her, from morning until early evening, so the more I know, the better my chances.”

  “Marco doesn’t think she ran off?”

  “No, which is why he’s helping me.”