Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,31
about the whole situation. Even if it was just hearsay, I could sort out fact from fiction later.
“I just can’t believe Pam would do such a thing,” I said in a sympathetic tone. “She used to come into the tavern a lot, and she always seemed so quiet and meek around her friends. But then you probably knew her because of her daughter…”
“I didn’t really know Pam,” Greta said. “But the few times I saw her, she was with Ashlynn’s dad, and he’s not a very nice man, if you know what I mean.”
“He’s angry?” I prodded. “Short on patience?”
“That and more—rude, overbearing. I think he hit his wife and kids. It wasn’t all that unusual for Ashlynn to show up to school with bruises.”
“And no one reported it to child protective services?” I asked in disbelief. As a teacher, I’d been a mandated reporter of suspected abuse. Then again, I’d heard worse stories about Drum, including that Todd Bingham’s little brother had disappeared, possibly murdered by his own father.
“If they did, nothing came of it.”
“Do you have any idea why Pam would kill someone? I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.”
“She probably just snapped,” Greta said matter-of-factly. “Everyone has their breaking point. Even nice people. Especially nice people. They stuff it all down until they can’t anymore.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe Pam had been beaten and berated one too many times, but if that was so, why hadn’t she killed her husband?
Greta gave me directions on how to get to the Crimshaw property, then said, “You, me, and Lula should get together soon and have a girls’ night out.”
Her suggestion caught me by surprise, but then so did my elation. While I had Marco, I was lonely for female friends. I saw plenty of Ruth at work and Carnita at the library, but it wasn’t the same as hanging out socially. “Yeah,” I said eagerly. “I’d really like that.” But I couldn’t help wondering what a girls’ night out in Drum would look like. The only things I could come up with were going out for drinks at Max’s Tavern or hanging out at the Methodist church on quilting night, although it was rumored they drank wine while they sewed.
After spending an hour and a half in the kitchen, I was finally ready to go. I wrapped up Sandy’s brownies on a paper plate, saving some to bring to work and two for me and Hank, then covered the casserole dish with tinfoil. I’d have to pick up another one at Target the next time I went to Greeneville. I didn’t expect to get this one back.
The food went into a basket, and I went out the door.
“I left you a brownie on the kitchen table,” I said to Hank, who still sat in his chair watching Letty. I’d already warned him I wouldn’t back that night. His response had been to ask if I was sleeping with Marco or just teasing him. “And I put out fresh food and water for the kittens.”
“That damn hellcat’ll have to come inside to eat it.”
I laughed. “Unless she eats a bird.”
He shot me a dark look.
“I made a chicken and rice casserole for you too, and I portioned it out into containers for your meals.”
“You’re lettin’ me have rice?” he grumbled.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s cauliflower rice mixed in with the real stuff, but be sure to check your blood sugar.”
“I will.”
I started down the steps, the basket slung over one arm and the bag with my work clothes and shoes over the other, but I found myself turning back to look at him. “Don’t you get tired of hangin’ out here every day?”
Surprise filled his eyes.
“I mean, I know you’re retired and all, but did you used to spend all your time here before the surgery, or did you do other things?”
“I used to spend a lot of time at the hardware store,” he said, his gaze turning to the bird feeder.
“The doctor said we could get an apparatus to help you drive. We should look into it.”
He waved a hand as if swatting the idea. “Those things cost too damn much money.”
“You could learn to drive with just your left foot. I’m sure it just takes practice.” When he didn’t respond, I decided to let it go for now. “Okay. Have a nice day, Hank.”
“You too, girlie,” he said affectionately.
I headed to Sandy’s house first. It was a one-story bungalow on the way into town, close to where