Her Scream in the Silence: Carly Moore #2

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Mel’s dealin’ pot and meth. She won’t want the sheriff sniffin’ around the trailer.”

  “That’s what Marco said. We’re on our way to talk to Mr. Watson and the rest of the staff at the café.” I paused. “How close are Ginger and Greta?”

  “Not as close as Ginger would like. Melody has a way of destroyin’ everything in her path, other people’s relationships included.”

  “Would Ginger be open to talking to us about Greta?”

  “Sure, but I’m not sure how helpful she’ll be.” He paused and shook his head. “So no one’s called the sheriff to report her missin’?”

  “Maybe we can convince Mr. Watson to do it,” I said. “I get the impression it’s unusual for her to skip work without calling in.”

  “Yeah,” he said absently. “Let me know if he won’t do it. I can have Ginger call, but they aren’t very likely to take it seriously since Ginger only talks to her every other week or so.” His eyes narrowed. “Marco’s with the sheriff’s department. Why doesn’t he file the report?”

  “He’s still on medical leave. I’m pretty sure he only agreed to help me because he was bored sitting at home. I think I got him tied up in more than he bargained for.” I turned back to finish scrubbing the shoe.

  “Do you want me to call Ginger and let her know you want to talk to her? It would be easier if you dropped by the house since she’s got all the kids.”

  I suspected Marco might be done for the day after we visited the café. I’d promised him I wouldn’t investigate without him, but talking to Ginger would be like chatting with an acquaintance. We didn’t know each other well, but she seemed safe. Especially since she was about to start cleaning Hank’s house. “That would be great. I’ll probably come by later this afternoon.”

  Once I finished with Marco’s shoes, I moved on to mine. The mud had already started to dry and cake, so I struggled to get them unzipped, but once I had them off and got a good look at them, I wondered if they were ruined after all. I doubted water and a scrub brush could fix this.

  Wyatt walked in while I was finishing the second boot, but he only nodded to me and walked into an office with a window overlooking the garage. I suddenly worried why he’d been out there so long. Had he confronted Marco? He wasn’t in any shape to be interrogated.

  And then there was the fact that Wyatt had essentially ignored me just now. Had Marco said something to piss him off? Or was this some kind of test? Did he expect me to hunt him down? I was much too tired for games, but I still had to tell Wyatt I wouldn’t need a ride home tonight after all, so I put on my clean shoes and headed toward the office. The door was mostly closed, but I heard him talking in a low voice about a carburetor and belt. The situation suggested he wanted privacy, and with Marco fading fast, I couldn’t wait long. So I headed over to Junior, Marco’s damp shoes hanging from my fingers. I’d stuffed mine into the bag.

  “Hey, Junior,” I said. “Will you tell Wyatt thank you for the use of his water?”

  Junior smiled, apparently appeased that I wasn’t cuckolding his boss. “Yeah.”

  “And also tell him I don’t need a ride home tonight. I’ll explain why later.”

  “Sure thing, Carly. I told Ginger you’d drop by to talk to her, and she said she’d be there all day.”

  “Thanks, Junior.” I headed out the door, surprised when I saw a large black pickup truck parked several feet away from Marco’s SUV, the front end facing me. A rugged man with dark hair was standing in front of the truck. The crutches were nowhere to be found.

  I hurried over to the Explorer and opened the back, although the stranger was standing uncomfortably close. I was relieved to see the crutches when I tossed in my bag and Marco’s shoes. I pulled his clean shoes out of his bag, then took another look at the guy as I closed the hatch.

  He had narrowed his focus on me, and it didn’t look like friendly interest.

  Had I made another enemy? I wasn’t sure I could afford any more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I decided the best way to handle Truck Guy was to ignore him. I got into the car and glanced over at Marco, who was sound asleep, his face pale.

  Marco was in no shape to be going anywhere but his own bed. He was done for the day.

  Shifting the vehicle into drive, I pulled out and Marco stirred. “You finished?”

  “Yeah, and I have someone else to talk to about Greta. Turns out Junior’s wife is her cousin, and she’s willing to tell us anything she knows.”

  He tried to sit up and released a cry of pain. “Sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe she’ll have another lead.”

  “I think we should just take you home, Marco.”

  “No,” he said, gripping the armrest on the door. “We’ll stop by Watson’s first. Then you can take me home to get my pills.”

  I had no intention of bringing him back out with me after I took him home, but I was keeping that plan to myself for now. The car I used was back at Hank’s, so I’d be stuck out there, but I’d figure that part out later.

  “Okay,” I said amicably. “We’ll stop at Watson’s, but don’t you dare pass out on me, because I am not carryin’ your body around.”

  “I’m not gonna pass out,” he grumped. I’d been joking, but his face was so pale I wondered if it was a legitimate concern.

  I was lucky enough to find a spot directly in front of the café. I got Marco’s crutches out of the back, put his clean shoes on his feet, and helped him out onto the sidewalk.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect you had experience with one-legged men,” he teased, but his voice was strained.

  “Been practicing,” I said, opening the door. “But let’s not overdo it in here. We can always come back later.” Or I could come without him, since this seemed like a safe interview too.

  I’d expected him to wave me off, but he had to be hurting even more than I’d thought because he nodded before slowly hobbling in. The café wasn’t nearly as busy as it had been in the morning. Marco took the first available booth close to the front door, and practically fell onto the vinyl seat. He extended his left leg, putting his foot onto the seat next to me.

  “You’re back,” Angie said cheerfully as she headed over to us pulling out her notepad.

  “We couldn’t stay away,” Marco said with a big grin. “Can you believe Carly had never had Watson’s food until last night? Now she can’t get enough of it.”

  That wasn’t true. I’d had their breakfast before, and Marco had ended up with my dinner last night, but I wasn’t about to correct him.

  “Know what you want?” Angie asked. “The special today is meatloaf.”

  “Sign me up,” Marco said a little too jubilantly. I knew he was trying to sell that he was okay, but it only made me more worried.

  I decided to get the meal I’d ordered the night before. “I’ll take a club sandwich and a salad with ranch dressing,” I said, then looked Marco in the eye. “But I think we should get our food to go.”

  He studied me for a long second, and I was sure he was about to correct me, but then the corner of his lip tipped up into a hint of a grin. “You heard the lady.”

  “You two an item?” Angie asked, glancing back and forth between us.

  “Yep,” Marco said with a wink at the same time, I said, “No.”

  Angie looked rightfully confused, so I added, “Marco’s such a jokester. We’re just friends.”

  She looked us over once more. “Y’all want drinks while you wait?”

  Marco ordered water and I got iced tea. When she walked away, I leaned in closer and lowered my voice. “Marco, maybe we should do this tomorrow.”

  “We’re already here, and besides, I’m hungry.” But his eyes looked glazed and his cheeks were flushed.

  I leaned over the table and pressed the back of my hand to his forehead and then his cheek. Both were slightly warm, and I wasn’t sure if he had a low-grade fever or if he was just warm from the exertion of getting inside.
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  He grinned. “You playin’ nursemaid?”

  “I’ve had plenty of practice with Hank.”

  Closing his eyes, he slumped down in the seat and rested his head back. Within about twenty seconds, I was sure he was asleep.

  Angie was standing in the back with another waitress, who looked a couple of decades older. I slid out of the booth, taking care not to disturb Marco, and headed to the back.

  “Is there a bathroom back here?” I asked, deciding to ease my way into this.

  “Right there,” said the other woman, whose name tag read Sheila. She thumbed to a door down the hall.

  “Oops,” I said with a laugh. “Right in front of me.”

  I hurried into the bathroom and decided to use the facilities while I could. When I came out a few minutes later, Sheila was waiting on a table, but Angie was still standing in the back.

  “Did you ever hear from Greta?” I asked.

  “Nope,” she said with a frown.

  “Marco was pretty worried, so we paid her sister a visit to see if she knew anything.”

  “Did she?” Angie asked and I could see a hint of worry in her eyes.

  I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “No. She doesn’t know where she is, but she doesn’t seem all that concerned.”

  She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Melody doesn’t give a shit about that girl. Only keeps her around for babysitting and makes her hand over most of her paychecks for room and board.”

  That didn’t sound all that surprising. “She said Greta hasn’t had a boyfriend since Tim Hines. Do you know if that’s true?”

  She gave me the once-over. “How do you know Greta?”

  “I confess, I only just met her yesterday. I came by Watson’s to ask her some questions about Lula, and then she stopped by the tavern to talk. I think she saw someone who frightened her, because she looked scared and left in a hurry. I had Max walk her to her car, and now she’s missing.” I took a breath. “I’m worried.”

  Angie didn’t respond, but she looked worried too.

  “Melody said someone came in last week asking Greta about Lula. Do you know anything about that?”

  She picked up a pitcher of water. “I’ll come over to your booth in a minute.”

  It wasn’t exactly a promise of anything, and her expression was blank, but it was the best I was going to get.

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks.” When I sat back down, Marco stirred. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like shit.” He tried to sit up but slouched back down in his seat.

  “I think you need to go to the doctor, Marco.”

  “I just need a pain pill and sleep.”

  I hoped that would fix it, but I wasn’t so sure. Then again, he’d seemed fine until our mud adventure, and that had come after the exertion of climbing up and down Max’s narrow staircase, not to mention the emotional strain of arguing with his best friend. Marco had been shot twice three weeks ago. He was on medical leave for a reason.

  Angie was refilling water glasses around the room, and she came to our table last. She didn’t waste any time getting down to business.

  “Greta told me that a man was in here asking for Lula,” she said in a hushed tone. “But Lula was still gone, and Greta told him so. The bastard didn’t like her answer, so he left and stuck her with the bill for his pie and coffee. Watson’s pretty strict with that stuff, so the guy’s bill came out of her tips.”

  A reminder that Max was a great boss…when he wasn’t drunk and pissed at me.

  “Did she know who he was?” I asked.

  “She said she didn’t recognize him.”

  “Did you believe her?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m not sure why she would lie, but something was off.”

  “Did you see him?” Marco asked.

  She gave him a long look. “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” he grunted.

  “I mean, you didn’t look so great when you came in, but now you look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” he repeated, his tone even surlier.

  “And no,” she said. “I didn’t see him. I wasn’t here. She told me about it the next day. He came in right before closing.”

  “Did she tell you what he said?” I asked. “Specifically?”

  “He told her he was lookin’ for Lula. That her boyfriend was willin’ to pay big money for info about where she might be. Greta didn’t know, but she wouldn’t have told him anyway.”

  “Did Greta tell you who the guy was workin’ for?” Marco asked.

  She shifted her attention to him. “No. But she was worried, and we speculated who Lula’s guy could be. There were some rumors that it might have been Todd Bingham, but the messenger wasn’t one of Bingham’s guys. She said she was certain she’d seen him in Ewing but couldn’t remember where.”

  “How often does she go to Ewing?”

  “Once or twice a week.”

  “Does she go to the same places when she’s there?” Marco asked. “Knowin’ that might help us narrow down who he is and who sent him.”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Angie said. “She visits her nana at the old folks’ home.”

  I shot a glance at Marco, then looked back at her. “Do you know the name of it?”

  “It’s the only one in town,” Angie said. “Greener Pastures, or something like that.”

  “Does she go anywhere else while she’s there?” Marco asked.

  “I don’t think so. Maybe the grocery store. The drugstore. That kind of thing. But she mostly goes to see her nana.”

  Maybe the messenger visited someone at the nursing home, but we had no name or photo to help ID him. It would be a shot in the dark. But what if someone had sent him there to watch Greta? We needed to go to the old folks’ home and ask around.

  “Oh,” she said, “she did describe him. She wanted me to be on the lookout for him, but it was so generic I’m not sure it’ll help.”

  “Anything would help,” I said.

  Angie nodded. “She said he had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a pale complexion. He was medium height and had stubble on his face, no beard. When he left, he tried to tower over her, but she said he wasn’t much taller than her, so likely about five-seven, five-eight.” Then she added, “Oh! And he wore a gold chain around his neck.”

  “That’s great, Angie,” Marco said. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Anything to help.”

  “We appreciate it,” I said, then shifted the angle of our questioning. “Say, Melody told us a bit about Greta’s ex, Tim Hines. Did she talk about him much?”

  “I know he beat her from time to time and was physically and verbally abusive, but I didn’t find out until after she left him. She did a good job of hiding it.”

  “Is there a chance they got back together?” Marco asked.

  She started to answer, then stopped. “I’d like to say no, but she acts like she’s been keeping a secret the last few weeks, so maybe. But when they were together before, he came in fairly regularly to eat. I thought it was sweet at the time, but now I’m pretty sure he was keepin’ tabs on her. You know how those controlling assholes are. But if they’re back together, he hasn’t been in to watch her.”

  “And no one else has been in to watch her either?” Marco asked.

  “I don’t think so. I remember the regulars.” She flashed Marco a grin. “Like you. And I ain’t seen anyone new hangin’ around, let alone someone who’s been watching her.”

  “What if she didn’t want to go home to Melody?” I said. “Like maybe she’d had enough and needed a break. Where would she go?”

  “She ain’t got many friends around here anymore. A lot of girls she and Lula went to school with moved away. But if she wanted to hide out somewhere, she might have stayed with her cousin Ginger.”

  And we knew she wasn’t there.

  The customers a couple of tables over were making subtle signs that they were ready to leave. An
gie noticed and started to head over.

  “One more thing,” Marco said. “Is Mr. Watson here? I’d like to ask him a few questions.”

  “He took off until Tuesday. He and his wife went down to Atlanta to visit their kids.”

  Leaning forward, he said, “Then I need to ask you a huge favor. Melody won’t report her sister missing, and the call needs to come from someone who knows Greta’s schedule.”

  “But you’re a deputy,” Angie said in shock. “I thought you were already investigating.”

  “We are,” Marco admitted. “But it’s not official. Someone needs to officially report her missing and see if they’ll start lookin’ for her. They’ll likely make you wait for forty-eight hours, but at least she’ll be on their radar.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” She glanced over at the table of customers. “I’ve gotta take care of ’em.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Sheila brought our food over, and Marco and I quizzed her about Greta. But Sheila seemed to keep her nose out of everybody’s business, so I wasn’t surprised she didn’t know much.

  Marco left business cards for both of them and asked them to call him if they remembered anything else. He also asked Angie to let him know what the sheriff said after she called to report Greta missing.

  I laid enough cash on the table to cover the bill and tip, then helped Marco out of the booth and into the SUV. He fell asleep again and didn’t wake up until I pulled up in front of his cabin. It was on the cute side for being a bachelor pad. He had a porch that ran along the front of the house—which was only about twenty to twenty-five feet wide. The front door was on the left, and a large window on the right had two Adirondack chairs centered in front of it. The front of the house had a narrow view of the valley toward Greeneville, and I suspected he’d paid good money for the two-bedroom house and the view…good money for Balder Mountain, anyway. There was no telling how much that was.

  “Marco,” I said, touching his arm lightly.

  He stirred slightly, then opened his eyes, trying to focus on my face.

  “You’re home,” I said. “Let’s get you inside.”

  “Yeah,” he said, trying to sit up and reaching for his door handle.