of us said anything until we were well out of Ewing.
“Who do you think burned Seth’s hand?” I finally asked, keeping my gaze on the road. I had one goal in mind—get Hank home and hope that Wyatt showed up soon afterward. Which was a strange thought. Up until this morning, Wyatt had seemed like my enemy, yet he clearly cared about Hank, and I felt confident he’d help protect him.
Hank closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the seat. “I don’t know.”
“Seems like Dwight might be a suspect. Do you know much about him?”
“He’s a bad seed. He gets into trouble all the time.”
“Is that the real reason you didn’t want a visitation?” I asked. “So no one would pat his hand and find it?”
He cast me a dark look. “I knew you were a smart girl within the first ten minutes of meeting you.”
“You’re okay with waiting until Friday?” I asked.
“Whether that boy gets buried Friday or three years from now, it don’t mean a damn thing. Dead is dead and that boy ain’t comin’ back.” His voice broke off, choking up. at the end. His face was pale, and I was sure he’d overdone it. I needed to get him home and to bed.
“How much do you trust Wyatt?” I paused for half a second, then added, “You must trust him if you let him identify Seth.”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m not sure we can do this on our own,” I said. “The question is if we can trust Wyatt to help.”
“He’s more trustworthy than his brother.”
“Max?” I asked in surprise.
He chuckled, but it wasn’t an amused sound. “Max wouldn’t hurt a fly, but I wouldn’t necessarily trust him to keep a secret. When he gets drunk, he talks.”
After what I’d seen yesterday morning, I wasn’t surprised by his assessment.
“You’d be worried about it getting back to their father?” I asked. “Bart?”
“Bart Drummond likes everyone to think he’s their savior, swoopin’ in to save the day, but the truth of the matter is Bart Drummond would sell Drum down the river if it lined his pockets, and he’d spin it so that whole damn town would thank him for it.”
“Do you think Seth’s murder has something to do with Bart Drummond?”
“Seems like everything that happens in Drum ties back to Bart Drummond, but in this instance, I don’t see how. Seth was after the dealer who sold his momma drugs, and Bart wouldn’t dirty his hands with something like that.”
“Do you know who would?” I asked.
“Todd Bingham,” he said as he stared straight ahead, his body stiff. “He runs the drug business in Drum.”
Bingham, the man who’d gone out of his way to intimidate me on Monday night. I’d already suspected he was involved in the drug trade in Drum. I figured if anyone in this town had a foot in its criminal underworld, it would be that creep, but I knew he wasn’t one of the three. The man who’d killed Seth scared me enough that I wouldn’t be forgetting his voice anytime soon. Technically speaking, Bingham could have been the driver, but I doubted he’d ever take such a backseat role. “Do you think Bingham had anything to do with Seth’s death?”
“If it involves drugs, then he’s got his hand in it.” He turned to face me. “You need to stay far away from Todd Bingham. Very far away.”
My stomach cramped as I shot him a long look and then returned my gaze to the road. “Why doesn’t the sheriff’s department arrest him?”
“’Cause he’s got the sheriff’s department in his pocket.”
Which fit with what Seth had said about his murderer being a deputy. ““You know that dealer I mentioned from Atlanta . . . how they were supposed to have made a delivery? Do you think Wyatt could have anything to do with the drug deal?”
“Wyatt?” he asked in surprise, then shook his head. “Hell, no. He can’t stand drugs. He dropped by often enough to see Seth, and I heard ’em discussin’ it.”
“Do you want to involve Wyatt in this, then? Tell him what we know?” I was in over my head, and if Wyatt could be trusted, I wasn’t opposed to involving him.
Hank didn’t answer for a few seconds. “I need to think on it.” He paused for several seconds, then said, “We can trust him not to harm us. I just can’t be 100% certain he won’t run to his daddy with anything we tell him. While he and his family give