Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,112
you and Hank. I’m fine.”
“For now.” He was quiet for a moment. “I think I should come home.”
“Are you going to file a police report?”
He hesitated. “No. I’m scared to draw any more attention to you.”
“You can come home, but I’m going to the Genslers’ place because whether I’m trying to wheedle information out of them or not, there’s a boy who’s flunking summer school and needs help.”
“I’m scared,” he said in frustration. “I’m a damn deputy sheriff, and I don’t know how to protect you.”
“I’m scared too, but for the record, I think not filing a report is a good decision. And to help put both of our minds at ease, I’ll get my gun when I go home to change, okay?”
“Okay,” he said. “Keep checking in with me, all right?”
“Yeah.” Partly because I wanted regular assurance that he was okay. I had to find a way to protect him and Hank. Information was the best way to do that. As soon as I was done with Spencer, I was heading straight to Bingham.
Chapter Thirty
When I got home, Hank was sitting on his front porch with his shotgun propped against the house, Smoky lying in his lap. He assured me no one had shown up and that his concern was for me, not himself.
I kissed his cheek and told him that he didn’t need to worry: I wouldn’t be going anywhere without my handgun. I went inside and changed clothes, putting on another dress I’d gotten on my last visit to Target. Letty sat on the bed, watching me, so I scooped her up and took her with me into the bathroom while I put on some makeup. She batted at the toilet paper roll while I got ready, then raced off to places unknown. When I finished, I repacked my bag, bringing a change of clothes and my gun, and headed out the door.
I barely made it on time for my appointment with the Genslers, and I spent the next hour working with their son, splitting our time between English and social studies. It didn’t take long for me to realize the boy was in serious trouble. I assured his parents I could help him, but one hour a week wasn’t going to cut it, so I agreed to tutor him every Friday morning at their house for twenty dollars an hour, and for free an hour before Wednesday’s Tutoring Club.
I left without getting a chance to ask about the accident, but it would have been awkward to shoehorn questions into our first lesson, and I genuinely wanted to help him. If I didn’t get useful information from Bingham, then I’d try to quiz Spencer at our tutoring session next week.
As soon as I left, I headed back through town toward Bingham’s, pleased to see the electricity had come back on.
When I reached his property, I pulled up to the house outside the fenced salvage yard. On my first visit last December, it had looked neglected and timeworn, but each time I came out, it was in better shape. It had a fresh paint job and was sparkling white with black shutters. There was even a nice wicker furniture set on the front porch.
I got out and walked up to the front door, smiling when I saw the ceiling of the porch had been painted haint blue.
Lula opened the door just before I could knock, her face beaming. “Carly! I’m so sorry I missed you yesterday afternoon. Greta and I painted each other’s nails.” She held up her hand to show me her bright pink manicure.
“I really wanted to come, but Max put me to work setting up the street party. I didn’t get a chance to say hi to you and Todd last night.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “You were too busy makin’ googly eyes at Marco.” She reached out and patted my arm. “Good for you, girl. Lots of women have tried to tie him down. I’m not surprised you were the one to do it.”
“Why?” I asked, caught off guard.
“Because you’re special, Carly Moore,” she said with a laugh. “I knew it the first night I met you, when you drove me home. Greta’s workin’ today, but we can hang if you want.”
I glanced toward the junkyard. “While I would love to take you up on that, I’m actually here to talk to Todd. Is he around?”
She made a face. “He had to run to Chattanooga. He won’t be back until later tonight.”