A Cry in the Dark (Carly Moore #1) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,74

me my keys!”

“No! You’re gonna get yourself killed!” I shouted.

He stared down at me, fury in his eyes. “If those are the guys who killed Seth, then I’ve got to find out who they are. Give me the fucking keys!”

I shook my head and stood my ground. “The man who killed Seth didn’t drive that truck, Wyatt, so let it go!”

“Are they still in the ignition?” Wyatt took my silence as confirmation and bolted for the driver’s door, not even bothering to close the passenger door. He jerked the truck into reverse, making a three-point turn, and the passenger door slammed shut as he whipped the vehicle toward the road.

“He’s going to get himself shot,” I said, trying not to freak out.

“Wyatt Drummond’s no fool,” Hank said. “He’ll be fine. Now help me inside before my leg gives out.”

I considered going after Wyatt, but what good would that do? I’d only get in the way. So I helped Hank inside and got him settled. Wyatt had left the prescriptions and supplies on the kitchen table. A raised toilet seat was on the floor.

The house was filthy, but it looked like someone had started to clean the toilet. Wyatt? I finished the job, then set the new seat on top so it would be ready when Hank needed it.

When I emerged from the bathroom, I glanced at a clock on the living room wall. “How long do you think Wyatt’s been gone?” I asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Hank said.

But anxiety churned in the pit of my stomach. How long had Wyatt been gone? Twenty minutes? A half hour? What if something happened to him?

What would he do if the men in that truck confronted him?

Heading back into the kitchen, I took a closer look at the three prescription bottles in the bag, thinking it was likely time to give Hank another pain pill. I found an antibiotic to be taken twice a day, pain meds to be taken every four hours, and a pill that Hank was to take daily with his evening meal. Plus lots of bandages and wraps, along with a thermometer and ibuprofen.

I moved to the doorway to the living room. “Hank, I think it’s time to take a pain pill.”

“I ain’t takin’ a pain pill,” he grunted, his eyes on the television. To my surprise, he was watching a soap opera.

“You have to take a pain pill. You need to keep the pain under control. You heard the nurse.”

“Drugs is what got my Barbara killed,” he said, turning his head to look at me. “She started by takin’ her momma’s pills. I ain’t havin’ ’em in the house. Get rid of ’em.”

“But—”

“Just get me some aspirin. That’ll be enough.”

Frowning, I got two ibuprofen pills and filled a glass of ice water, shocked at how little food was in the fridge and freezer.

When he saw the glass of water, he gave me a indignant look. “I ain’t drinkin’ that shit. Where’s the Coke? The Dollar General had a special a couple of weeks ago. Seth stocked up.”

“There wasn’t any in there. I opened the fridge lookin’ for a water pitcher.”

“That damn boy must have drank it all while I was gone.”

“You know,” I said carefully. “I suspect you shouldn’t be drinking Coke with your diabetes.”

“My diabetes can go straight to hell,” he spat. “I want a damn Coke.” But to my relief, he swallowed the pills and set the glass on an end table with a hard thunk.

I pushed out a sigh, suddenly worried my new landlord was going to be more difficult than I’d expected.

“You’re out of most of your groceries,” I said. “How about I go get some before I head to my shift at Max’s?” I wasn’t exaggerating. The only items in his fridge were bottles of ketchup and mustard and a nearly empty jar of strawberry preserves, but I also had an ulterior motive for leaving.

He rattled off a list of junk food that he wanted me to pick up.

I started to protest, but I knew how he’d respond. He’d tell me it was none of my business, and in a sense he’d be right. At the same time, I couldn’t help but think it had become my business the moment I’d accepted this role.

“Wyatt’s not back yet,” I said, my anxiety increasing. “Do you think he has the keys to Ruth’s car with him?”

“Nah. Around here nobody takes the keys out of the ignition when they’re at home,” he said. “The keys’ll be in