He didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied me with those blue-green eyes. When he did speak, it blew apart my world. “Maybe it’s time we both put our cards on the table.”
Fear washed through me, and everything in me screamed to tell him no. I wasn’t ready to face this now, but then again, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready. “Okay.”
He scooted his chair so that we were nearly face to face.
“Carly, I know you’re still in no place for a relationship. I value our friendship, more than you probably realize, but I’ve made no secret I’d like for us to be more than friends.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“I’m not pressuring you,” he said, emphatically. “It’s important you know that.”
“I know,” I repeated.
“But I need to know if I’m wanting something that’s never going to happen.” He swallowed. “I need to know if I should let this…go.”
I leaned forward and took his hand, linking our fingers. “I can’t promise you anything, Marco. I’m super messed up. I’ve spent all week wondering if you’d decided I was too much of a mess to deal with, and then you showed up outside the tavern, and I was so happy to see you. But it rattled me when you said you expected me to get off at ten. My mind went to sinister thoughts.” Then I added in shame, “About you.”
Hurt filled his eyes. “You think I’d do something to hurt you?”
“No,” I said insistently, squeezing his hand. “That’s just it. I don’t. And I immediately chastised myself for it. But it’s instinct now—my first reaction is to question everyone and everything. Because I didn’t see it coming with Jake either.” My voice broke. “And trust me, I know how unfair it is to compare you to him. You’re a good man, and he’s a snake. You deserve better than that from me.”
He slowly shook his head. “No. He spent your entire friendship manipulating you, spying on you for your father. Calling off the men in your life. That would mess anyone up.” He shook his head. “Carly, I know it’s hard for you to trust. I’m doin’ everything in my power to prove that you can trust me.”
“I know,” I said, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Do you have any idea how guilty that makes me feel?”
He shook his head again. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.” He gave me a soft smile. “I’m your friend, no matter what. If you tell me that you’ll never have romantic feelings for me, I’ll find a way to accept it and be your friend from now until eternity. But if there’s a chance…”
His face was passive, yet I knew he was scared too. He had to be wondering if rocking the boat of our fragile feelings would capsize us.
“I can’t promise you anything, Marco. And I definitely can’t tell you that I can give you a family someday.” A lump burned in my throat as I let down the wall that had held back my fears. “I can’t risk having kids with my father out there, trying to find and kill me.” A sob broke loose and my eyes flooded with tears. “How selfish would it be to bring children into that situation?”
A soft smile covered his face and tenderness filled his eyes. “I’m gonna help you bring him down.”
My back stiffened. “Wyatt promised me the same thing and he got stalled on part one—dealing with his father.”
His body stiffened. “You’re comparin’ me to Wyatt Drummond now?”
“No!” I got up and walked to the porch railing, staring into the dark woods. Trying to pull myself together. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
When he didn’t say anything, I spun around to face him, my butt leaning against the railing. “I had hopes and dreams too,” I said with a wry laugh as I wiped the tears from my face with my fingertips. “I wanted to marry a man that I loved and who loved me—really loved me. I wanted kids and a happy home.” Another sob broke loose. “I’ve never wanted much, Marco. I just want to be loved.”
He remained in his seat staring at me with a tenderness that stole my breath.
“Am I that unlovable that men have to have a reason to care about me? Jake. Wyatt. My dad.”
“No, Carly,” he said softly, getting to his feet but keeping his distance. “I can assure you that you’re not. People love you for just being you. Hank treats you like his own daughter and doesn’t want a thing from you. Those kids at the tutorin’ club adore you. And sure, you’re givin’ them something, but no kid that age is excited to come learn. They’re eager to see you.”
I nodded. Hank was more of a father to me than Randall Blakely ever had been. Then again, I was pretty sure Randall Blakely didn’t consider me his real daughter. And those kids…they gave me a sense of purpose I hadn’t had in over a year. But they were also a sharp reminder of what I’d lost. What I’d probably never have again.
“And they’re not the only ones who love you, Carly,” he said, taking a step closer.
My heart raced, because our conversation had circled back to square one.
His shoulders lifted. “You want to neutralize Bart Drummond before we go after your father. So we need to step up our efforts to make that happen. We’re going to look for the chink in his armor, and Pam Crimshaw just might be it.”
Tears streamed down my face, because I knew what he was doing. I’d learned long ago that talk was cheap. Actions were what mattered, and he was ready to step up and do his part.
“You could get in trouble,” I said. “It’s an active investigation and you can’t be part of it.”
He closed the distance between us, pulling me into a fierce hug. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. While part of me ached for more, the part that had missed him so deeply soaked in his nearness. “Don’t you worry about that. I have other avenues. How about you focus on talking to Pam’s friends and kids? Find out what state of mind she was in after Thad had his accident a couple of years ago. We’ll figure out where to go from there. And maybe it’s time to dust off some of the other cases you’ve been lookin’ into. We’ll figure out a way to ask questions without lookin’ nosy.”
I nodded against his chest, starting to feel foolish for breaking down. “Sorry I lost it like that.”
“No,” he said, squeezing me tighter. “You keep it all bottled up. It’s okay to break down from time to time.” He lifted his hand to my cheek and tilted my head back to stare up at him. “Thank you for trusting me enough to do it in front of me.”
I nodded, not feeling steady enough to speak.
“How about I come over to Hank’s tomorrow morning before I head to work? I’ll tell you what I found out from Max, and we can narrow down the cases you’ve collected and figure out which ones to focus on.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll make you breakfast.”
A mischievous grin lit up his eyes. “It’s not going to be some of that healthy shit you feed Hank, now is it?”
I laughed, and it felt good. “If you want real bacon, you’ll have to bring your own. But I’ll make sure the pancakes and eggs are as real as they can be.”
“Deal,” he said, relief filling his eyes. “It’ll be kind of early. Seven?”
“I can be up,” I said. “Which means I better go home and get to bed.”
He started to say something, then stopped. “Yeah. Good idea.”
I started for my car, and he fell in step beside me. When we reached the driver’s door, I glanced up at him, my heart skipping a beat. He was such a good-looking man, and more importantly, he was a good man. Why was I taking my time with this? Especially since I was finding it harder and harder to ignore the pull I felt toward him. Why didn’t I just give in? We both wanted this. But I couldn’t do it.
Not yet.
“Marco, I didn’t answer your question about a future, and you definitely deserve one. It’s not fair to leave you hanging, wondering if your feelings will ever be reciprocated.”
He watched me, not saying a word.
“The answer is yes,” I whispered. “I feel everything I think you feel, but
I need more time. I’ve been hurt…”
He put his finger on my lips. “I know, Carly. No explanation needed.”
My lips tingled at his touch, and I felt the strongest urge to kiss him, but he pulled his hand away and reached for the car door. “Call me when you get home. With Pam and our plan to start diggin’…I think we’ll need to do more frequent check-ins.”
“Agreed.”
I got in and backed up to turn around and head down his long driveway. When I stopped, I gave him a wave and he waved back with one hand, the other in his pocket. He looked so inviting standing there, so welcoming, and I wondered what it would feel like to go home to this man every night and let him envelop me in his arms. To fill a home with children. Did I dare let myself entertain that daydream?
As I drove home, I realized that for the first time in a long time, I felt a spark of hope. It wasn’t lost on me that Marco had put it there.
Chapter Eight
I emerged from my room at six-thirty, my kitten at my feet. I’d stayed up late. Again. But I had something to show for it this time—I’d stumbled upon something promising while making a timeline of the events I’d been researching. I was eager to show Marco when he got here.
After a quick stop in the bathroom, I found Hank in the kitchen, scooping coffee grounds into the coffee maker. He glanced up in surprise. “What are you doin’ up?” His eyes widened. “And dressed.”
“Marco’s comin’ over for breakfast before he heads into work. I’m making pancakes and eggs.”
He gave me a blank look. “You’re makin’ him breakfast at the crack of dawn? What’d you do?”
I jutted my head back. “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t think of any reason you’d get up before seven to make breakfast unless you had a fight and you were in the wrong.”
I grimaced. “No fight. We need to discuss some things.”
“That’s called makin’ up after a fight, but in a real relationship, sex is usually involved.”
“Hank!”
He gave me a knowing look. “I speak the truth, and there’s no harm in findin’ a man to scratch an itch.”
My face flushed. “Hank!”
“Just sayin’.”
“I don’t see you lookin’ for a girlfriend,” I countered.
“When you’ve been blessed with the love of your life, everyone else pales in comparison.” He headed for the doorway. “Since you’re already up, I’m headed out to the porch. Bring me a cup of coffee when it’s done. And don’t let your hellcat out. I don’t want her scarin’ off the birds.”
I grinned at his description of Letty. “Yeah, of course.”
He went outside, but his statement stayed with me while I pulled out the ingredients for pancakes. He’d lost his wife Mary to breast cancer a few years before. I knew he’d loved her, but this was the first time I’d heard him refer to her as the love of his life. There wasn’t much around the house to suggest she’d lived here, even though he’d owned the house for years. In fact, I’d often thought it strange that he lived in this small, run-down house when he’d supposedly been the drug kingpin of eastern Tennessee. Any money he’d earned was clearly long gone. My running theory was that he’d spent it on Mary’s medical bills—I knew from taking care of Violet during her last month that medical care wasn’t cheap—but a lot of townsfolk thought he’d buried it.
After I made the pancake batter and put a cookie sheet with turkey bacon in the oven, I poured two cups of coffee and walked out to the front porch, making sure to keep Letty inside. Hank was sitting in his chair, his kitten on his lap. I handed him a mug as Marco’s Explorer pulled into the drive.
“Want me to bring your breakfast out here or would you rather eat it later?”
“Didn’t have a fight, eh?” he asked with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes. “So you want to come in and eat with us? I can set you a place at the table.”
“No,” he grumped. “I’ll stay out here.”
Marco’s SUV came to a stop and he got out. He was wearing his uniform and his hair was still damp, and the image of him in the shower flashed through my head. I sucked in a sharp inhale, and Hank shot me a grin that suggested he knew he was right about me having an itch.
Marco gave me a tentative smile. When I smiled back, relief flashed through his eyes, and he lifted a hand to Hank. “Good morning, sir.”
“I heard you were droppin’ in for breakfast,” Hank said as he stroked the back of Smoky’s head.
Marco nodded as he approached the house. “That and Carly’s good company.”
Hank shot me a mischievous grin and started to say something, but I smacked his arm, making the coffee slosh in his cup.
“Come inside and I’ll start the pancakes,” I said.
“Don’t let her feed you that turkey bacon shit,” Hank said as Marco climbed the steps. “I may be stuck eatin’ it, but that don’t mean you have to.”
“Trust me,” Marco said with a chuckle. “She’s tried to trick me into eatin’ that stuff before. I know better than to fall for it.”
“You two are terrible,” I grumbled, then turned on my heels and went back into the house. “Don’t let Letty out. She’ll scare Hank’s birds away,” I called over my shoulder. “Or on second thought, go ahead.”
Hank let out a burst of laughter and Marco joined him.
I headed to my room to get my notebook, then found Marco in the kitchen grabbing a mug out of the cabinet. Letty was rubbing herself against his leg and releasing a soft purr.
The thought of Marco’s hands making me purr flashed into my head, catching me off guard. If I was avoiding a relationship with him to keep from being distracted, I was epically failing.
“How’d it go last night with Max?” I asked as I leaned against the door jamb.
“You look exhausted,” he said, shooting me a glance before he poured himself some coffee. “I feel bad that I made you get up early.”
“I was the one who invited you, so quit stalling. It must not have gone well since you’re changing the subject.”
“Long story short, I didn’t get anything of use.”
“What’s the long version?” I asked, walking past him to turn the stove burner on.
“I showed up a little before closing and told him I felt like hanging out…like old times. So after he closed, we sat at a table and talked for a while. The conversation worked its way to Jerry.”
“Did you bring it up or did he?”
“Me, but it happened organically. He told me that Jerry was moving out, and I asked why. He told me about the job, and I said I didn’t trust his father. He admitted he didn’t either, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.”
“He won’t try to talk Jerry out of it?”
“No. We discussed whether he should, and in the end we both agreed we needed to let Jerry be the one to make this call.”
I started to protest, then reluctantly decided he was right. Jerry was a grown man. I’d shared my reservations about the whole thing. He might be insulted if I continued trying to dissuade him. “I don’t want to see him get hurt. And I’m not just talking about his feelings, Marco.”
“I know, but for now, we’re stuck.”
I nodded, even if it didn’t feel right.
“Can I help with breakfast?”
“No,” I said, handing him the notebook. “Why don’t you look over my notes? We can talk through them while I cook.” I’d already come to a few conclusions, but I wanted his opinion before I mentioned them.
He sat down at the table, and as I cooked the pancakes, we discussed the cases I’d identified as possible Bart favors (all based on supposition and reading between the lines—he was good enough not to be obvious). This wasn’t the first time he’d heard about the majority of them, but this was the first time we’d looked at them together with a critical eye, trying to determine which leads were most promising.
“Hey,” Marco said, sitting up. “This one’s
new.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Which one?”
“The Drummond lumber yard employee whose house exploded from a gas leak twelve years ago.” His gaze lifted. “It looks like it was considered an accident.”
“It was,” I said as I cracked several eggs into the skillet. “But a family of five died in the explosion.”
“You don’t think it was an accident?”
“I wasn’t sure at first, but then I discovered that about a week after the funeral, a man crashed his car into a tree on Highway 107.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Go on.”
“The article says that there were no signs of skid marks. There were no other cars. No alcohol or drugs involved. He just hit a tree.”
“Are you suggesting it was attempted suicide?”
“I’d bet money on it,” I said, turning around to face him. “He tried three more times over the years in various other ways. If you flip forward several pages, you’ll see them all. His name is Ted Butcher.”
“Was he ever successful?”
“I didn’t find an obituary on him. His last two attempts were drug overdoses, and I suspect they only made the paper because he was found in public locations. The Ewing city park and the grocery store parking lot. The last one happened two years ago.”
He cocked his head, studying me. “Why isn’t it next to the explosion?”
“Because I didn’t connect him to it until last night. After I came home from your place, I started looking them over.”
“I thought we were going to work on it together.”
“We are,” I said, flipping the eggs. “But my notes were in my purse, just begging to be looked over again. Ted Butcher and the explosion weren’t even on my most promising list before last night.” I took a deep breath. “Look. I don’t know that all of these cases have anything to do with Bart. I don’t know that any of them do. I just searched out weird, unexplained accidents and deaths. Ted caught my attention because he tried to kill himself so many times, in different ways. It wasn’t until I put together the timeline that I realized his first attempt was two weeks after the family died.” I pointed to the book. “The timeline’s at the back.”
Buried in Secrets Page 6
