Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,65

can pick this conversation back up next time I come in.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Max said with a laugh. “Just promise you won’t stay away for over a week again.”

“With things this busy at work, I can’t promise it, but I’ll try to at least stop in for lunch or dinner.”

“Good enough for me.” Max beamed as he offered Marco his hand over the counter.

Marco shook it with a matching grin. “Missed you, man.”

“Missed you too.” Max made a shooing motion. “You two crazy kids take off and do whatever it is you claim you don’t do.”

Marco followed me to the backroom so I could grab my purse, then we headed out the back door to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” he asked, sounding concerned.

I groaned. “I left it in front of the library. I stopped there this afternoon to get Selena’s address out of the phone book.”

“Hop in,” he said, gesturing to his Explorer, which was parked on the street next to the building. “I’ll drop you off at your car. Did you have any problems today?”

“No, but I found out a few things.”

“I did too, but let’s wait until we get to my house before we start going through it.”

“Okay.”

We didn’t talk on the short drive to my car, and I followed him out to his house. Lights glowed in the windows, and I felt some of my stress fade. I always felt like I was hiding from the world when I was with Marco at his house. Was that part of his appeal?

He took my overnight bag from me as I got out of the car, and we walked to the porch together. The smell of Italian spices hit me as I walked in the door.

“Oh!” I said as I set my purse on the kitchen table. “What did you have for dinner and is there any left?”

He laughed as he shut the front door and locked it, then he handed me the bag. “I saved some for you. Go take a shower if you want, and I’ll make you a plate.”

I offered him a warm smile. “Thanks.”

Now that we’d gotten more comfortable together, he knew I liked to shower when I got off work, so if I was staying over, I usually showered right away.

Not only was I hungry, but I was eager to talk to Marco about our discoveries, so I emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later with damp hair, wearing pajama shorts and a T-shirt.

A plate of spaghetti and meatballs sat on the table, and Marco sat at the head of the table with his laptop open.

“Feel better?” he asked, looking up.

“Yeah. That looks delicious, but are you planning on sharing? That looks like it’s enough for two people.”

He laughed. “You know I always end up eating from your plate when you eat after me. I’m only planning ahead.”

I grabbed my notebook out of my purse and sat down in front of the plate. “I had a good chat with Selena after I left you.”

“And I found out more about Thad Crimshaw’s case. And a bit about Ted Butcher too. Including the police report for the house fire in question.”

I perked up. “Oh?”

“How about I start with Butcher?”

“Okay,” I said as I picked up a fork and started to dig into the noodles.

“The car crash was Butcher’s first run-in with the law. Not even any speeding tickets. His tox screen was negative, but his story changed about what happened—at first he said he lost control and hit the tree, and in a later statement he claimed to have fallen asleep. The officer who took the second statement said Butcher seemed despondent, but he attributed it to his injuries, which were extensive. Broken legs, a broken arm, internal injuries. The officer included in the report that Butcher was scheduled to go to a physical therapy rehab center and that he had no support system to care for him. He was divorced at the time of his accident, but I don’t know for how long, and his parents were deceased. His next police report, two years later, was for a DUI arrest. He hit another car while high on Oxy. Thankfully, the occupants of the other car weren’t injured, and neither was Butcher. He got off with probation. There are more reports, several overdoses, some breaking and entering charges. It’s obvious he became a drug addict, likely after the accident.”

I swallowed my mouthful of food. “Which goes along with my theory that he couldn’t handle