Her Scream in the Silence: Carly Moore #2

by Denise Grover Swank

  “So it’s true,” he said, sounding pissed. “You were with Marco.”

  “With him could be taken two different ways, Wyatt, and frankly, if you and I aren’t together, neither one of them matters to you.”

  The pain in his eyes nearly made me cave.

  I was being harsh, and I knew it, yet he needed to hear the truth. “You know how to fix this.”

  “I can’t. What little I can tell you won’t be enough to appease you, and I don’t have permission to tell you the rest.”

  Permission? “Who are you protecting?”

  He leaned over the bar and held my gaze, his eyes pleading with me. “I’m askin’ you to trust me, Carly.”

  “So I’m just supposed to accept that I shared everything with you and you’re not going to tell me anything?” I asked, incredulous.

  “I know it sounds bad.”

  I couldn’t believe we were having the exact same conversation again, and in public no less. I shook my head. “I’m not doin’ this.”

  “Were you with Marco today?”

  My mouth dropped open. “I never took you for the controlling type, Wyatt Drummond.”

  “And I never thought you’d be shallow enough to stage something with Marco in an attempt to make me jealous and force my hand.”

  I gasped and I could see the instant regret in his eyes.

  “Do you really think so little of me?” I asked, my voice breaking.

  He cringed and ran his hand over his head. “No. But…if you…”

  I shook my head, fighting tears. “You need to go.”

  “Carly.”

  “No. You need to go. Now.”

  “I didn’t mean it, Carly. I was angry and hurt, and I—”

  “I’m hurt too, and you don’t see me accusing you of awful things.”

  “Aren’t you, though?” he asked. “I did everything in my power to save and protect you. If that doesn’t earn your trust, what will?”

  He had a point, and my heart broke. “I trust you with my life, Wyatt. I have no doubt you would take a bullet for me, but you know that men have lied and kept secrets from me. You know how much that has hurt me. The only way we can make this work is if you’re open and honest with me, yet you refuse to do that. Hell, I don’t even know about your past girlfriends, because ninety percent of your life is a mystery you’re keeping in a locked vault.”

  His jaw twitched, but he remained silent.

  “I like you, Wyatt. I like you more than I’ve ever liked a man before, but I have to be smart. I have to protect my heart. And my life. Which means that unless you start sharing things, we’re not going to work, so we might as well call it now.”

  His eyes turned glassy, and my chest hurt so much I struggled to draw a breath.

  He gave me a soft nod before sliding off the stool. When he walked out the door, he took most of my heart with him.

  “Where are the orders, Carly?” Ruth bellowed as she approached the bar. “I’ve got some thirsty customers, your section is completely uncovered after Max’s disappearin’ act, and you’re havin’ a heart-to-heart with your boyfriend?”

  She was right. We’d chosen a completely inappropriate time and place for our conversation, even if Jerry was the only person within earshot.

  Her eyes widened when she saw my face. “Oh shit. What happened?”

  Shaking my head, I started pulling beers again. “Sorry. You’re right about all of it. I’ll catch up. Give me a moment.”

  “What did he do?” she asked in a semi-growl.

  “We just figured out that we’re not gonna work,” I said, placing a mug on the bar. “Better to find out now than later.”

  Her scowl told me she wasn’t falling for my explanation, but we were too busy for a longer talk.

  I ignored her and poured all my energy into filling the drink orders. Max returned about twenty minutes later, and it was hard to gauge how his walk with Greta had gone based on the solemn look on his face. She might have confided why she was upset, or she might have given him the brush-off.

  He slipped behind the counter to take my place, not offering any information. I was too busy trying to contain my own heartache to stick around and ask.

  Plastering on my brightest smile, I touched base with my tables, offering free baskets of wings and fries to soothe some irritated patrons. Within a half hour, all was well and my tables were happy and pleasantly inebriated.

  I couldn’t help wondering how they were getting home since there were no taxis or Ubers in Drum.

  Max sent Ruth home around eleven since she had been there all day and was working the lunch shift the next day. We were still busy after she left, but Max sent Tiny home too, and he and I managed the crowd until he kicked the stragglers out at two a.m. He still hadn’t said more than a word to me, so as soon as he locked the front door, I called out, “You’ve been keepin’ me in suspense all night, Max. Tell me what happened.”

  “What happened is I made a shit-ton of money tonight. That’s what happened.”

  I propped a hand on my hip. “You know I’m talking about Greta.”

  “I walked her to her car and then I came back,” he said as he stopped at a table and began collecting empty mugs.

  “You were gone much longer than it would have taken to walk behind Watson’s and come back.”

  He shot me an exasperated look. “Don’t you think you’ve inserted yourself into this situation enough?”

  I lifted a brow. “So you didn’t want to walk her to her car?”

  A lazy grin spread across his face. “Now, I never said that.”

  “Are you gonna see her again?”

  “Only time will tell,” he said, then turned serious. “She told me you’ve been askin’ a lot of questions about Lula.”

  “And I already told you that I don’t think she left voluntarily this time. I’m trying to figure out what happened to her.”

  “You’re wastin’ your time, Carly.” He didn’t look happy to be admitting it.

  “Maybe,” I said, “but it’s my time to waste.”

  “Well, don’t be lettin’ Ruth know you’re lookin’, and definitely don’t be late again because of your sleuthin’. The last thing you want is to face her legendary wrath.” He pointed a finger at me. “And yeah, I know you were late because you were talkin’ to Greta over at the café.”

  I decided to throw caution to the wind. “Actually, I was late because I dropped by the Alpine Inn.”

  “Were you lookin’ for Jerry?”

  Crap. That reminded me that I hadn’t given Jerry his new coat. “No,” I said, slowly. “I saw your father’s associate leave one of the rooms.”

  “My father’s associate?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “The one he met here the other day. Neil Carpenter.”

  He set the glass in his hand on the table and turned to face me, his face devoid of expression. “Why are you snoopin’ on my father’s business associate?”

  Ah, crap. Good question. “It just looked odd, is all. He’s an upstanding businessman in a fancy suit. The last place I expected to see him was emerging from a room in the Alpine Inn.”

  His eyes flashed with fury. “How does that concern you, Carly?”

  His reaction caught me off guard. Although I’d seen Max angry, it had always been a righteous sort of anger—against men who disrespected Ruth and me and other women at the bar. He’d certainly never been this pissed at me.

  “It just seemed odd,” I said defensively.

  “It’s none of your damned business! Just like me and Greta are none of your business! And where Lula went is none of your business! You live here for a few weeks and suddenly you think you need to be stickin’ your nose in things that have nothin’ to do with you?” He shook his head and pointed a finger at me again. “Leave it all the fuck alone!”

  I took a step back in total shock. Max couldn’t have hurt me worse if he’d slapped me.

  His face hardened. “Go home.”

&
nbsp; I gestured to the dirty tables around us. “But we’re not done cleaning up.”

  “Go. Home.”

  He didn’t have to tell me a third time. I spun around and practically sprinted to the back and got the hell out of there.

  I wondered if I’d have a job tomorrow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I tried to sleep, but I was too upset about Max, so I lay awake for over an hour, wondering if he was right. Was I overstepping? I admitted that I was by investigating what Neil Carpenter had been doing at the motel. And perhaps I’d overreached when I’d asked Max if he wanted to walk Greta to her car, but he could have said no.

  But Lula…that was the one that puzzled me. Why would he care if I looked for her? Wouldn’t he want me to find her?

  I finally fell into a fitful sleep, but I woke with a headache when the alarm went off at seven.

  Hank was already up, which was no surprise since he was an early riser. His stitches had all been removed, so I no longer had to change his bandages and clean his wound, but his compression bandage still needed to be changed. Hank had trouble doing it himself. He’d tried to insist that I no longer needed to massage around the incision area, something I did to break down the scar tissue, but I’d refused to let it go. If he ever changed his mind about getting a prosthesis, a thick layer of scar tissue would make it painful to wear. I hated to think his pride and stubbornness might cause him trouble later.

  He was bundled up in his jacket and sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee, watching several small gray and green birds eating sunflower seeds out of a bird feeder Wyatt had installed for him a couple of weeks ago. A single crutch was leaning against the wall.

  He glanced up at me standing in the open doorway. “You’re up early after bein’ out so late last night.”

  So he’d heard me come in.

  I wrapped my arms around my chest to ward off the cold. “We were busy last night. Max kept us open until two, and even then, he had to kick everyone out.”

  “Are you goin’ to work at noon?”

  “No,” I said, watching the birds. “What are those?”

  “Pine siskin. They’re like goldfinches. They were Mary’s favorite.”

  His wife had died several years ago, and it was obvious he still missed her. Just like he missed his daughter, who’d died last year, and his grandson, Seth.

  The appearance of the bird feeder had surprised me, if only because Hank hadn’t struck me as the bird-watching type, but I often found him watching it. It occurred to me that Hank might like a bird-watching book so he could identify the species he didn’t recognize. If I asked him, he’d tell me not to bother, but I knew he’d accept it if it just appeared.

  Was that another sign of me butting into someone else’s business?

  Max’s accusation was making me question everything.

  “Marco is picking me up at nine, so would you rather have me change your bandage before or after I dye my hair?”

  There was no hiding what I was up to when I dyed it. The smell filled the house. I’d expected Hank to ask questions the first time, especially since the color hadn’t really changed much. The upkeep was intended to mask my roots, not change my look.

  His mouth turned down into a scowl. “Neither.”

  “I’m not leavin’ until we change your bandage,” I said in a no-nonsense tone. “But I’ll let you stay out here to watch the birds while I start on my hair.”

  “Where are you goin’ with that deputy?”

  “We’re going out to breakfast.” I’d gotten plenty of information from Greta the night before, however, and it occurred to me that our trip to Watson’s was no longer needed. I’d ask Marco what he wanted to do once he showed up.

  I waited a second to see if Hank had more questions before I went back inside. I poured a cup of coffee, then carried it to the bathroom and examined the roots of my hair.

  My hair was naturally blonde, but I dyed it auburn to help disguise my appearance. My hair grew fast, and I really didn’t want people asking questions, so I’d decided to dye it every few weeks. Last time I’d just touched up the roots, but the original color had begun to fade, so I’d do an all-over color this time. After I changed into a dark T-shirt that I’d bought at the Dollar General for this purpose, I mixed up the dye and applied it to my roots, then covered the rest of my hair.

  I had forty-five minutes to kill, so I made Hank some protein pancakes. (Which I was sure he only liked because he didn’t know they were a healthier option.) He said he wanted to eat on the porch since the entire house stank of hair dye, so I handed him his plate and refreshed his coffee. I headed back inside and started changing the sheets—which was when I remembered Wyatt’s arrangement with Ginger. When was that supposed to start?

  Since I was going to be gone all day, I chopped up some vegetables and covered them with olive oil, then seasoned some chicken breasts and put them all on a foil-lined cookie sheet. I realized that I’d made enough for Wyatt too, and my heart hurt again. If I kept living with Hank, I’d have to keep seeing Wyatt, but I didn’t want to move out. I genuinely liked living with Hank. Sure, the house was kind of a dump, and he could be a cranky old coot, but I cared about him. He made me feel needed. Necessary. Maybe it was selfish, but after feeling invisible and replaceable most of my life, I liked being indispensable.

  By the time I got the food into the oven, it was past time to rinse out my hair, so I washed it off in the tub and showered. When I blow-dried my hair, it was a lot darker than before, but it didn’t look bad. Just different and with less undertones. It looked like a home dye job. I swallowed my disappointment. I didn’t have the time or money to pay someone to professionally dye it. I’d have to suck it up. It was only hair.

  I was getting dressed in my room when I heard an engine outside. A quick glance at my phone read 8:46, which meant Marco was early. I still hadn’t changed Hank’s compression bandage and massaged his stump. I hurriedly stuffed my work shirt, a thermal tee, and a pair of athletic shoes into a bag, then headed out to the living room. I was hoping I still had a job.

  To my surprise, Wyatt was standing next to the sofa, holding a box of donuts.

  His gaze shifted to me and the longing in his eyes made my knees weak. “Carly, I said some things last night that were totally out of line.”

  My gaze dropped to the box of donuts. I’d mentioned in passing a week ago that I’d kill for a box of donuts, and here he was with some.

  “You were right,” he said, contrition covering his face. “It’s not fair to tell you absolutely nothing about my past when you’ve been so upfront with me about yours.” He took a step forward. “I don’t want to lose you, Carly. You’re too important to me.”

  “But you also said I’d never be happy with how little you can tell me.” I glanced around. “Is Hank still outside? I need to change his compression bandage.”

  “He’s watchin’ the birds. Which means we have time to discuss this now.” His gaze landed on my bag and his body went rigid. “Where are you goin’?”

  “This is for work tonight.” I sighed. “If I still have a job.”

  “Why wouldn’t you? Did Lula come back?”

  I made a face. Me and my big mouth.

  The oven timer went off, so I dropped the bag on the sofa as I walked past him into the kitchen. “I made something for Hank’s lunch and dinner. Also, there’s still some vegetable lasagna from the other night if he’d rather have something else.”

  “Where are you goin’? Why do you think you might be out of a job?”

  I grabbed the potholders and opened the oven door. “Max and I got into an argument.”

  “Over what?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

  Pushing out a breath, I said, “It’s not important. I’m probably overreacting.”

  “Did he tell you that you were fired?”

  “No, but we were cleaning up the bar, and he told me in no uncertain terms to drop what I was doin’ and leave.”

  He
set the box of donuts down on the table and rubbed his jaw. “What were you arguin’ about?”

  “Max thinks I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “You mean askin’ him to walk Greta to her car?”

  “Among other things,” I said, setting the cookie sheet on the stove top. “I need to leave before this cools down. If you’re sticking around, can you portion it out into these containers?” I asked, pointing to four plastic bowls with lids that I’d already set out on the counter. “There’s enough for you too.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a frown. “Of course. But where are you goin’ that has you in such a hurry?”

  “Carly!” Hank called out from the front porch. “Your date’s here.”

  Well, crap.

  Wyatt’s brow practically shot up to his hairline. “Your what?”

  “It’s not a date, Wyatt.”

  His entire body stiffened. “Who’s here to pick you up?”

  There was no easy way to tell him this. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid. “Marco.”

  His jaw tensed. “Marco.”

  “Like I said, it’s not a date.”

  “Well, whatever it is, you’re takin’ your work clothes, so you’re clearly plannin’ on spendin’ all day with him.”

  Crap. I hadn’t thought this through. If Marco dropped me off at the tavern, I wouldn’t have a way home. I could ask Ruth, but she’d probably get off early since she was going in at noon, and asking Max for a ride probably wasn’t a good idea.

  “Can you give me a ride home tonight?”

  His eyes narrowed. “So you are spendin’ the entire day with him?”

  “Yeah,” I said, starting to get pissed. “I am. Lula’s missin’ and he’s helpin’ me look for her.”

  “Yeah,” he said in disgust, “I bet he is.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “We all know that if Lula took off, she’s nowhere around here. He’s playin’ you, Carly.”

  I put my hand on my hip. “Excuse me?”

  “He’s pandering to you so he can spend time with you.”