I only had to survive long enough to find it.
Chapter Eleven
“Hank? You doin’ okay?” a woman asked from the doorway. When he didn’t answer, she walked the rest of the way into the room, revealing herself. She was a dark-haired woman in scrubs, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Oh, you have company.”
“Patty,” Mr. Chalmers said, “this is my new friend Carly.”
“Friend?” she asked with suspicion. Then she gave me a dark look. “You a reporter here for a story?”
“No,” I said in surprise, dropping Mr. Chalmers’ hand and getting to my feet. “It would be highly unethical to sneak into a bereaved man’s room and try to get a quote about his deceased grandson.”
Her brows rose. “So you know his grandson was murdered? The sheriff’s department swore me to secrecy, claimin’ they haven’t released any names yet. I ain’t never seen you here before, so you mustn’t be too close to Hank. If you’re not a reporter, who the hell are you?”
I stared at her in shock.
“Patty,” Hank barked, “she’s the one who found Seth.”
Her face fell. “What?”
“She came to tell me about his last moments.” His voice caught. “She brought me a blessin’.”
All her fire had guttered out, and she looked close to tears. “Sorry for the misunderstandin’.”
“I’m glad you were looking out for Mr. Chalmers,” I said. “Especially if there are unscrupulous people who would stoop to such lengths.”
She cleared her throat and turned her attention to Mr. Chalmers. “Speaking of lookin’ out for you…” She grimaced. “Now that your grandson won’t be able to take you home tomorrow, I think we should make arrangements for you to be transferred to Sunny Dale.”
“The rehab place?” Mr. Chalmers shouted. “There’s no way in hell I’m goin’ there.”
“Your drain tube is coming out today, which means you’re ready to be discharged, Hank. Medicare says it’s time to go. One way or the other, you’re out of here.” She pushed out a sigh. “I don’t make the daggum rules, but unfortunately, I’ve gotta enforce ’em.”
I remembered Ruth telling me that Mr. Chalmers had come to Greeneville for a leg amputation. My gaze shot to the lower end of his bed, and for the first time I realized the lump for his left leg was longer than his right.
“You know I can check myself out at any time,” he snapped at her.
“That’s true, but you gotta have someone pick you up,” she countered with plenty of sass. “There ain’t a taxi or Uber in town that’ll haul you up that mountain.”
“I’ll pick him up,” I said before I could think it through. I didn’t have a car, but maybe Ruth would let me borrow hers. Or maybe Wyatt would be finished with mine, although I highly doubted it.
“He doesn’t just need a ride,” Patty said in a condescending tone. “He needs someone to take care of him. He needs his dressing changed and help getting in and out of bed and onto the toilet. Are you gonna provide that kind of help for him?”
I glanced back at Mr. Chalmers. “Do you have someone to help you with that?”
He lifted his chin. “I’ve got a home health nurse comin’ at the end of the week. I can make do at home until she gets there.”
My time in Arkansas came flooding back. I’d spent the last month taking care of Rose’s dying sister, Violet. Surely that medical experience could be of use.
“I’ll do it,” I told her, then glanced back at him. “Max was putting me up at his motel, but frankly, I’d rather not stay there again. So I’d rather work out a barter. I can stay with you and help with the home health stuff in exchange for room and board.” I’d still need to work at Max’s for the money, but this would give me a chance to look for whatever evidence Seth had found…presuming the sheriff’s deputies hadn’t found it first.
“I don’t want no charity,” Mr. Chalmers said with a hard look in his eyes.
“I don’t want it either,” I countered. “And right now, I’m set to stay with Ruth Bristol and her boyfriend free of charge. If I stay with you, at least I’ll be earning my keep.”
“You can’t just up and decide to be a home health nurse,” Patty said in disgust. “It takes trainin’, and frankly, it takes a strong stomach. Hank just had his leg amputated. You ready to deal with that?”
I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. I wasn’t sure I was, but I’d figure out a way. “I just spent the last month takin’ care of a dying woman. I learned how to give her injections, change her IV lines, help her in and out of bed and into the bathroom. I can handle it.”
Patty’s face softened.
“I’m goin’ home tomorrow,” Mr. Chalmers announced. “And that’s that.” He glanced up at me. “What time are you pickin’ me up?”
“Uh…” I had no idea when Max would need me tomorrow, if he’d need me, but surely he’d give me the afternoon off so I could bring Hank Chalmers home. “In the morning, by eight. So we have plenty of time to get you settled at home.”
“And plenty of time to get you up to speed on how to take care of Hank,” Patty said with a look that suggested she still wasn’t convinced I was capable. “I’ll go let the doctor know.”
Then she sashayed out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.
“Thank you, Mr. Chalmers,” I said, turning back to him.
“Enough with the Mr. Chalmers shit,” he said. “Call me Hank.”
I grinned. “Okay, Hank.”
His mouth pressed into a firm line. “I gotta warn you, my house ain’t fancy. I reckon you’re used to nicer places.”
“I was staying at the Alpine Inn. I don’t need fancy,” I said. “I’m just grateful for a place to stay.”
“And where’s that?” a familiar male voice said. My stomach dropped when I turned and saw Wyatt’s large frame filling the doorway.
Dressed in jeans and his brown jacket, he was more handsome than he had any right to be. His dark hair looked windblown and his dark eyes were narrowed in suspicion at me. It wasn’t fair that my heart leapt at the sight of him when he had nothing but contempt for me.
“Wyatt,” Hank said in surprise.
Wyatt shot me a glare as he walked into the room. “I wanted to check on you. How are you holdin’ up, Hank?”
Hank’s eyes welled with tears again, but he didn’t answer.
“I’m sure you’re not up to company,” Wyatt said in a gruff tone. “I’ll walk Ms. Moore out.”
Hank held up his hand and shook his head. “No need for that. She’s helpin’ me move home tomorrow.”
Wyatt’s jaw hardened, and his gaze darted between Hank and me. “And how’d that arrangement come about?”
“She stopped by to talk about Seth, and seeing as how Seth was supposed to take me home tomorrow, Carly volunteered to help in exchange for a place to stay.”
“The Alpine Inn’s not good enough for you now?” Wyatt asked me in a cold tone.
“It’s either Carly takes me home or I go to the shithole rehab center,” Hank snapped. “So get off your damn high horse.”
“You don’t even know her,” Wyatt protested. “And now you’re inviting her to stay at your house?”
“She tried to help my grandson,” Hank said in a gruff tone. “Nobody else saw fit to help him, and she didn’t even know him.” His eyes hardened with challenge. “That’s enough for me.”
I could tell Wyatt wanted to say more, that he was practically gnawing on his tongue to hold it back.
What the hell was his problem? While I understood why he’d be suspicious of me, the circumstances were unusual, to say the least, I was sick and tired of dealing with his attitude.
“Let’s just get this out in the open,” I said in a direct tone, the kind I would use on the third-grade class I used to teach when the kids got unruly and I needed to regain control. “I didn’t kill Seth. I had nothing to do with his death other than that I held his hand as he took his last breath. I’m sor
ry you don’t trust me—I suppose you’ve got no reason to—but I’m not out to hurt Hank. I need a place to stay, and Hank needs someone to take him home and stay with him until his home health nurse shows up at the end of the week. It’s that simple.”
“How do you plan on bringin’ him home when you don’t have a car?” Wyatt asked, obviously unmoved by my speech.
“I can—”
“She can use my car,” Hank said.
“You haven’t driven that thing in years,” Wyatt said. “I’m not sure it’ll even start, let alone make the trip to Greeneville and back.”
“Then she can use Seth’s,” Hank said, his voice cracking.
“The sheriff’s department found it off Highway 25,” Wyatt said. “It’s impounded while they look for evidence.”
I was about to say I’d planned to ask Ruth for help, when Hank said, “Then you can drive ’er. You’ve admitted you don’t have enough work at that garage of yours. You can spare a couple of hours to bring her down to pick me up.”
“I’ll come get you,” Wyatt said, shoving his hands in his back pockets, “but I’m not bringin’ her with me.”
“Fine,” Hank snorted. “You can learn how to change the dressin’s on my stump and learn how to check my blood sugar levels.”
Wyatt’s mouth opened, and then he turned back to me with a suspicious gaze. “You plan on learnin’ how to be his nursemaid?”
I sent him a haughty glare. “Considering a nursemaid typically changes diapers, no, I do not. But I do plan on learning how to provide home healthcare assistance.”
“And what makes you qualified for that?” he demanded.
“I have previous experience caring for a very sick woman,” I said. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Quit your yapping and just deal with it, Wyatt Drummond,” Hank snapped. “You want to do somethin’ for me? You either bring her down tomorrow or find a way for her to come get me, because I don’t wanna spend a minute longer in this godforsaken place than I have to.”
“I’ll bring her,” Wyatt grunted. “And I’ll help get you inside the house too.”
“Fine by me,” Hank said. “Because I’m still too weak to hobble around on those damn crutches yet.”
Wyatt shot me a piercing glare that softened when he turned back to Hank. “I need to speak to you. Alone.”
Hank started to protest, but something in Wyatt’s gaze must have moved him because he gave me a sharp nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here as early as Wyatt gets me here,” I said with a tight smile.
Tears filled his eyes again, and he glanced away. “See you then.”
I headed out in the hall, making my way toward the main entrance, my stomach in knots over my interaction with Wyatt. Sure, I was supposedly from Atlanta, but that didn’t explain the extent of his suspicion. Besides, he hadn’t reacted much to my Georgia plates at the outlook—he’d started acting weird after that, after I shut down the idea of calling the sheriff.
Something else stuck out at me.
Had Wyatt heard about the drug dealer from Atlanta? Did he think I was somehow connected to them?
Surely Wyatt wouldn’t have heard anything about that—Max had only heard about it this morning, from his deputy friend. Yet I couldn’t ignore the fact that Wyatt had sat with Bingham’s crowd last night. If Wyatt did know about that dealer, it was simple enough to figure out how he’d have known.
A shiver of apprehension had me stopping in my tracks. Why was Wyatt here? Surely a surly man who had friends like Bingham didn’t pay friendly visits to grieving old men in hospitals. I didn’t want to put words to the whirl of thoughts in my head. Surely there was nothing to fear, leaving Hank alone in the room with Wyatt. But what if there was?
My heart was racing, and I felt a pull to return to Hank’s room like a hook on the back of my neck. I nearly ran back, but something stopped me. Hank was a tough man, but his eyes had softened at the sight of Wyatt.
Hank trusted him.
So I went down to the lobby instead. I tried to call Ruth, but it went straight to voicemail. I left her a message and then sent a text for good measure, saying I was done and would wait for her in the hospital lobby.
I started to call my friends in Arkansas, but then hung up before it could ring. Every time I made contact with them, I put us all in danger. Not to mention, Rose and Neely Kate would be worried sick if they thought I was in trouble. They’d want to do something, and there was nothing to be done. They had enough troubles—they didn’t need to step between me and my ruthless father. Besides, while I couldn’t leave Drum, I hadn’t been arrested. It was a stalemate. No use putting them through unnecessary worry.
All that was left to do was wait. I was about to take a seat when I realized I hadn’t checked my bank account balance since leaving Gatlinburg. I’d remembered seeing an ATM by the elevator, so I walked over to it and fed it my debit card, then followed the prompts to check my balance. I wanted to weep when I saw $1363.27 on the screen. I’d thought there would be at least three or four hundred more.
“What are you up to?” I heard Wyatt ask behind me.
I pressed cancel on the screen, then grabbed my debit card when it popped out. “This is an ATM machine, which is commonly used to get cash.” I turned around to face him. “Or do they not have ATM machines in Drum? Want me to show you how to use it?”
It was a bitchy thing to say, but I was tired of defending myself to him.
“Got enough money to pay for those car repairs?” he asked in a dry tone.
I propped a hand on my hip. “I’d be able to tell you if I had an estimate, which I’m guessing is hard to come up with if you’re an hour away from my car.”
“Ever consider the fact that I might have another mechanic workin’ on it back in Drum?”
Why hadn’t I considered that?
“Care to tell me why you decided to show up in Hank Chalmers’ hospital room?” he asked.
“I thought we’d both made it pretty clear,” I said. “Seth wanted me to give Hank a message.” While I would have loved nothing more than to talk flippantly about this to piss Wyatt off, I couldn’t do it. I was talking about the senseless death of a teenage boy. “After my mother died, I wanted to know every detail. Was someone with her? Was she scared? I couldn’t save Seth, but at least I could tell Hank that his grandson didn’t die alone.”
His gaze hardened. “You were with him when he died? I thought he was dead when you got to him.”
My eyes burned with tears. For some reason, it mattered that he didn’t seem to like me, although I didn’t want it to. Now I’d gone and given him personal information, my personal information. Charlene Moore’s mother was supposed to be alive and well in Grand Rapids. And, fool that I was, I was more upset that he’d responded with scorn than that I’d opened my mouth in the first place.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, scanning the screen. It was a text from Ruth: So sorry! Running one hour late. Tell Max you’ll be late for lunch.
I turned away from Wyatt and started walking back into the main part of the lobby, trying to figure out what to do. I suspected Ruth was right about the tavern drawing a big crowd, and I didn’t see how Max could handle it on his own. I told myself that it wasn’t my concern. Twenty-four hours ago, I hadn’t known any of these people.
Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been completely alone.
I sat in a chair, racking my brain for a solution that would get me back to Drum on time. I could rent a car, but then I’d have to bring it back because I was fairly certain there wasn’t a car rental return center in Drum. Not to mention it was an expense I couldn’t afford.
“How’d you get down here to Greeneville?” Wyatt asked, standing in front of me.
“It’s not your concern, Wyatt,” I said, refusing to look up at him.
He squatted in front of me, his expression softer. “Carly. How’d you get down here?”
I glanced away
from him, fighting the urge to cry. “Ruth.”
“Is she comin’ to pick you up?”
“Not for at least another hour.”
“I heard you were working the lunch shift at Max’s.”
A fire lit in my gut. “Checking out my schedule now?” I snapped.
Was he really that worried that I wouldn’t be able to pay him?
To my surprise, he didn’t erupt at my hateful tone. Instead, a wry smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “It’s a small town. Sometimes you find out things whether you want to know them or not.”
I believed that.
“I’m headed back to Drum. I’ll give you a ride.”
I shot him a glare. “You think I’m going to get in your truck with you after you just insulted me?”
“You’re gonna get in it tomorrow, so why not today?” His mouth twisted into a grin, his eyes warming. “Or maybe you plan on sittin’ here until tomorrow.”
“Ruth will be here in an hour,” I reminded him.
“Fine, suit yourself,” he said, but he didn’t sound insulted and he’d still made no attempt to stand. “But I promise not to insult you durin’ the drive if you change your mind.”
I looked him square in the eyes. “How do I know I can trust you, Wyatt Drummond?”
“How do I know I can trust you?” he countered. But his words didn’t hold the contempt he’d recently shown me.
“Maybe I haven’t earned your trust enough to give me your debit card pin or whatever, but I’ve given you absolutely no reason to distrust me,” I said, my attitude returning.
“That’s not how trust works around these parts,” he said, his tone a little firmer. “You have to earn trust. It’s not just handed out, carte blanche.”
I could understand the concept, especially given everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. While I could make the argument that I hardly looked like a drug dealer, my connection to Atlanta notwithstanding, maybe I was wrong. Maybe my impression of what a drug dealer looked like had been influenced by Hollywood.
“I’m too tired and upset to fight with you, Wyatt,” I said, looking away so he couldn’t see I was close to tears again.
A Cry in the Dark: Carly Moore Series Page 12
