A Cry in the Dark (Carly Moore #1) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,48
I had nothing to do with his death other than that I held his hand as he took his last breath. I’m sorry 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.