He gave me a soft smile, and I realized I didn’t want Wyatt to think I was a bad person. Maybe it was foolish of me, but I wanted him to understand my motivations.
“I’m helping Hank for the reason I told you. He can’t be alone right now, and I need a place to stay.” I turned my head to face him. “Sometimes people can just be nice for the sake of being nice.”
He looked deep into my eyes. “No. I think there’s more to it, but your reasons aren’t sinister.” A sad look washed over his face. “You saw more of Seth’s murder than you’re lettin’ on. You saw the getaway vehicle.”
My heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t see anything.”
“That may be what you told the sheriff, but when I started to go after that truck, you told me it wasn’t the truck the murderer had escaped in.”
“Maybe I was only saying that to protect you,” I said, my voice shaky. “Maybe I was scared of what would happen to you if you chased after them.” I motioned to his truck. “See? I was right.”
“You saw the murder,” he said quietly, and when I didn’t protest, he added, “Hidin’ what you know was smart.”
My mouth parted. “What?”
“You’re right not to trust the sheriff’s department,” he said. “Some of them are dirtier than a pig in a mud bath.”
“Can I trust you?” I asked, and it was his turn to look surprised.
“I guess I haven’t given you much reason to,” he said, “but I was protective of that kid and his grandfather, and I thought you were a drug dealer from Atlanta come to town for a drug drop.”
I scooted off his lap onto the ground. “I figured.”
He stared at me in disbelief. “Excuse me? You knew about it?”
“You’re not the first person to mention it. Max told me the sheriff knew about a drug runner from Atlanta. But surely the fact that I’m from Georgia isn’t enough to convict me. Plus, you knew my plates were from Georgia the minute you pulled up. You were nice to me at first.”
“Where I found you—the only people who go up there are locals who want to make out or screw. Or do drug deals. Strangers definitely don’t go up there anymore. Then you got skittish as hell when I mentioned calling the sheriff, and you had a gun in your purse.”
He knew I had a gun in my purse? I started to get to my feet, but his arm tightened around me. “Carly. Stop. I’m not your enemy.”
“But you’re Bart Drummond’s son.”
He hesitated, then said, “What do you know about my father?”
“Not a whole lot, but I’ve heard enough to be worried about that fact.”
“What you’ve heard about my father depends on who did the tellin’. Some people love him. Some people hate him. Some people do both simultaneously.”
“And which camp do you fall into?”
He held my gaze. “I’m not loyal to my father, Carly.”
I wasn’t sure what to think. He could have gone anywhere after his prison sentence, but he’d chosen to come back here. Although he’d made it sound like he’d had no choice—that Drum had a hold on him—I struggled to believe that hold was sentimentality. “I’ve been told you’re not entirely trustworthy.”
“Because of my father?”
“Yes.”
He inhaled slowly, gazing down at what was left of his truck. “If I’d died in that heap, my father wouldn’t have given two shits.”
So maybe Wyatt and I had more in common than I thought.
“Most people try to argue with me on that point,” he said.
I gave him a wry smile. “Most people don’t have a father like I do.”
“I suppose not,” he said. Then he dropped a bombshell I hadn’t seen coming. “Then again, most people don’t have Randall Blakely for a father.”
Oh shit.
Chapter Eighteen
Shock reverberated through me, fueling my panic. I broke free of his hold and scrambled several feet away from him, trying to figure out how to handle this.
Carefully, he got to his feet and I got the impression he wasn’t moving slowly for his safety so much as he was trying not to spook me. Too late.
He held up his hands with an earnest expression. “Careful or you’ll fall down the hill and land on my truck.”
“Worried you won’t get the reward money if I’m a little bruised or battered?” I sneered. “Don’t worry. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
“Caroline,” he said, his hands still raised and staying in place. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
I hadn’t been called Caroline for months, and it felt like he was talking to someone else. “No, you’re just gonna turn me in for the reward money.”
“If I was going to turn you in for the reward money, I would have done it last night before I came to see you at the tavern.”
He had a point, but that didn’t mean he still wouldn’t do it. For all I knew, he’d already made the call and was waiting for my father’s cleanup crew to take care of the dirty business. “It didn’t take you long to put it together.”
He released a short laugh. “You weren’t exactly hiding your reaction to that news report. Then you used a VPN on my computer. Most people wouldn’t do that.”
I shook my head in horror as I berated myself for my stupidity. But I could still make a break for it. If I beat him up the hill to the car, I could…
Could what? Leave? Steal Ruth’s car and abandon Hank? Flee the sheriff’s department and put myself in even more danger?
Denial. I needed to deny the hell out of this.
“You’re crazy,” I snapped, facing him as I took a backward step up the hill, not an easy feat given that the ground was slippery.
“Am I?” he asked as he took a step up the hill after me.
Tears stung my eyes, but I held them wide, not wanting him to see. “So let’s say I was this Caroline Blakely…why would I be here on the side of a ravine with you?” I asked, swiping an arm wide for emphasis. “Why wouldn’t I be in Dallas with that fiancé who sounded so heartbroken she was gone?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“Why are you tellin’ me this? You want me to confess so you can get some of the Blakely money? In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any.”
He laughed again, but it was humorless. “Hell, I figured that out within ten minutes of meeting you.”
“Then what do you want? You keepin’ me busy until Randall Blakely’s goons show up? Or maybe you’re feeling guilty for turning me in because I just saved your life. Won’t you feel bad when you realize I’m not even her and the reward money doesn’t come.”
He gave me a sad smile. “I didn’t turn you in, Caroline.”
There it was again. Caroline felt like someone else entirely.
“I’m not Caroline.” Not anymore. It was startling to realize it was true. I’d chosen Carly because it was a nickname my mother had used for me. But she was the only one who’d ever used it, and before my stint in Arkansas, no one had called me that for two decades. And yet, it didn’t matter—I felt more like Carly than I did Caroline.
“Okay,” he said, still holding up his hands and bending forward slightly as he took a step toward me. “Carly. I didn’t turn you in.”
“Don’t take another step closer.” I moved a few feet up the hill toward my purse, not that it would do me much good. My gun was gone, and my scissors were in the truck at the bottom of the hill, but at least I had my shiny new ID. It was all the protection I had left.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Carly. I swear.”
“Forgive me if I have a hard time trusting you right now.” I bent over and scooped up the bag, slinging the straps over my shoulder and continuing my climb.
“At first I wondered what in the hell the heiress of Blakely Oil would be doing in Drum, Tennessee,” he said behind me, sounding a little breathless. He was following me. “And I confess that I found the coincidence of your appearance in town and Seth’s death to be too much t
o accept.”
“No shit,” I said over my shoulder. “You made that very clear.”
“But then I did some investigatin’ of my own, and when I put two and two together, I realized you were on the run, hiding, not here as part of some big scheme.”
Ignoring him, I continued my climb, my progress less graceful in my haste.
“I started to put it together when I saw the panic on your face while listenin’ to the news report. Carly, will you please slow down?”
I reached the side of the road, sore and out of breath. I wanted to take a second to rest, but Wyatt was literally just feet behind me. I ran around the still-running car, about to open the driver’s door, but Wyatt had reached me. He put his hand on the door to keep it shut, then gently touched my shoulders and turned me around to face him. Slow and steady movements so he wouldn’t frighten me any more than he already had by seeing me. By knowing me.
He rested his hands on the car on either side of me, but instead of feeling trapped, I felt comforted. Like there was safety here between Wyatt’s arms.
That feeling was dangerous.
I knew better than to think I could be safe anywhere.
“I know you’re runnin’ from him,” he said softly, pleading with me to listen, “and you’re scared he’s gonna find you, but no one here will put it together.”
I lifted my chin and gave him a defiant stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No one here pays much attention to what’s goin’ on in the outside world, and they sure as hell don’t give a shit about an oil heiress, but even if they did, they’d never figure out it was you.” He lifted his hand to my hair, touching a few of the stubborn strands that had fallen forward. “You cut your hair and dyed it dark. You changed your name and you don’t look like you came from money, but you’re her.”
I started to protest but stopped. There was no point. All I could do now was wait him out and make my escape.
Slowly, he pushed my jacket to the side and lifted the hem of the long-sleeved T-shirt I was wearing to reveal the skin above the waistband of my jeans. I didn’t need to look down to know that he saw the irregular birthmark over my left hip bone.
His gaze lifted to mine, but instead of the gloating triumph I’d expected, I only saw concern and compassion. “Even without that birthmark, I’d know it was you.”
“And how’s that?” I asked. I’d meant it to sound belligerent, but instead it came out breathless.
“Those soulful blue eyes.”
Which meant he’d seen other pictures of me. “You Googled me?”
“I wanted to be sure.”
I pressed my back into the side of the car and whispered, “What do you want?”
“Nothin’,” he said gently. “I want to help you.”
“Why?” I countered, not trusting this turnabout.
“Because sometimes people do the right thing just for the sake of it.” His arms dropped to his sides and he took a step back. “Can you drop me off at the garage? I need to check in and grab the tow truck so I can come back out to Hank’s later.”
Was he really just going to let this go?
“Why don’t you want the reward money?”
“I already told you,” he said, slowly reaching around me to open the car door. “I don’t need a half million dollars.”
“Because you have your own daddy’s money,” I said.
“I don’t want my father’s blood money,” he said, his eyes darkening.
“But I know you paid for Seth’s funeral, or at least took care of the arrangements, and those things you got for Hank must have cost a couple hundred dollars.”
“And you’re planning to buy Hank food with money you need to be spending on a car, yet I doubt you’d turn me in for reward money if our roles were reversed.”
I lifted a brow. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
“Let me help you.”
I turned serious. “There’s nothing to be done.”
“Then don’t do it alone, Carly. Trust me, I know all about goin’ it alone.”
I didn’t answer him, mostly because I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I tossed my purse into the back and got into the car. I waited for him to walk around to the passenger side and get in.
I cast a sideways glance at him, then shifted the car into drive. I felt like I was sitting next to a total stranger, not the man I’d met two days before. I wasn’t sure where we stood.
I wasn’t sure where I wanted us to stand.
“Why does your father want you?” he asked after I’d driven for a few seconds.
I pushed out a breath and laughed. “He wants me to marry Jake.”
“Why?”
I shook my head. It would be too dangerous to tell him why.
“Was Jake collateral damage when you fled?”
I laughed again, this time more bitter. “Uh…no. Jake was very much a part of my father’s scheme.”
“He betrayed you?”
I shot him a glare. “You know the truth about who I am. Can we just leave it at that?”
“Maybe I can help you, Caroline.”
I held up my hand. “It’s Carly. Caroline Blakely died the night of her rehearsal dinner. I’ve learned to accept it, and calling me Caroline dredges up old pain. It also puts me at risk of being found out. I’m Charlene Moore now, and you’d best remember it.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Tell me what you saw the night Seth was killed.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to tell him that either. Not until Hank gave me the green light. Although Wyatt had certainly implied he wasn’t close to his father, he hadn’t given me a straight answer.
“Carly…”
“I didn’t see anything. I heard a cry in the parking lot. I ran out and found Seth and held his hand as he died. End of story.”
He didn’t ask me anything else until I pulled into the parking lot of the garage. “Do you know where the Dollar General is?”
“I think so.”
“Drum’s pretty small, so you shouldn’t have trouble findin’ it,” he said, but he made no move to get out of the truck.
I lifted my eyebrows and gave him a pointed stare.
“I’m not gonna tell your secrets, Carly.”
I cocked a brow and asked sarcastically, “What secrets?”
“Point taken.” He started to open the door, then stopped. “You don’t have a ride to Hank’s after you get off work, so I’ll pick you up.”
“I’m sure Ruth can drop me off since it’s on her way.”
Determination filled his eyes. “The guys who ran me off the road could really be after you. They wouldn’t dare touch you at Max’s, but they might try once you leave. You lost your weapons, so I feel like I need to do my part to keep you safe.”
I hoped they weren’t after me. I hoped they’d only run him off because he’d aggravated him, but something more pressing grabbed my attention. How had he figured out my gun had been stolen? Had he taken it after all?
“You know that I lost my weapons?”
“Your scissors?” he said, but Wyatt was an observant man. He knew I was talking about something else, and no doubt he’d noticed my gun wasn’t in my purse.
“Yeah. My scissors.”
“But I didn’t see your gun, and I know it’s not on you. Where is it?”
“I never said I had a gun.” He went stone-faced and silent, his expression completely unreadable. Switching tactics, I decided to change the subject and try to gather more information, I asked, “What do you know about Barb’s death?”
“Hank’s daughter? Why are you askin’ about her?”
“Because Hank mentioned it,” I said. “I thought it might be good to know what happened.”
He frowned.
“He already told me that she and her boyfriend died the same night. She overdosed, and he was shot by a sheriff’s deputy after causing some chaos while he was high.”
“That’s the general
story.”
“Hank says they both took some drug from Atlanta.”
“I’ve heard that too.”
“That can’t be a coincidence. Seth must have found out and somehow caught the attention of those guys.”
He studied me. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you have anything to add to that?”
“Nope.”
“Seriously?”
He shifted in his seat and groaned. “Leave it alone, Carly. Ride this out until the sheriff clears you, and then I’ll get you a car so you can get on your way.”
“Yeah,” I said, “because I get the feeling you’re going to let the whole getting-run-off-the-road thing go. Shouldn’t we be worried that someone just tried to kill you?”
“No,” he said with a serious expression, looking me square in the eyes. “It was a couple of hotheads who thought I was followin’ them too close. I’m lettin’ it go.”
“Well, good for you. You’re a bigger person than me. How are you going to get your truck out of that ravine?”
“I’ll have to hire someone in Ewing to help. My rig won’t be able to cut it.” He reached for the door handle. “I’ll go sit with Hank tonight, then pick you up when your shift is over.” He paused. “I know Ruth can drop you off, but until they arrest Seth’s murderer, it might be a good idea if I’m with you at night.”
“Why would you care?” I asked.
“Why’d you help me out of my truck?” He smiled, although there was a tinge of sadness to it. “Same reason.”
Chapter Nineteen
I hadn’t been in many Dollar General stores before, but I didn’t remember many of them having mini grocery stores inside. This one did. I got the items Hank had requested and looked around for some fresh fruits and vegetables. I knew Hank would likely pitch a fit, but I’d hoped to find a way to convince him. I didn’t know much about diabetes, but I knew his diet of mostly processed foods couldn’t be good for him. So I made do with the few options they had—some small, bruised apples, almost too ripe bananas, some yellow onions, and a bag of baby carrots. Hank had asked for Coke, but I also got him some milk and orange juice, as well as some real cheese, but I stopped at picking up wheat bread instead of white. I was already about to send him over the edge. I also got some hamburger and frozen chicken breasts and some other ingredients to make several real meals. It cost me over 10% of what was in my bank account, but I couldn’t really complain. He was giving me a place to stay. Providing him with groceries was the least I could do.
A Cry in the Dark: Carly Moore Series Page 20
