One Foot in the Grave (Carly Moore #3) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,5
knowledge that I’d helped made me nostalgic for my old life. A year ago, I’d been teaching my third-grade class, preparing the kids for their spring PTA performance while I planned my August wedding to my best friend. My father had stolen it from me. On the night of my rehearsal dinner, I’d heard him talking to my fiancé, Jake—it turned out they secretly concocted a savage plan together. Jake would marry me to become my father’s heir in his illegal enterprise (something my father didn’t need given he was already wealthy several times over with oil money), and then they’d kill me.
I’d done the only thing I could think to do and run.
Six months ago, I’d thought that life—the life of Caroline Blakely, the teacher—was lost to me forever. Then I’d met Wyatt Drummond. He’d discovered my real identity and vowed to help me bring down his father and then my own. Only Wyatt had reneged on our agreement.
I wasn’t sure if that meant he’d changed his mind about destroying his father, or only about letting me help, and I didn’t care.
I intended to handle this situation on my own. Mostly.
Marco knew that Bart had discovered my secret, and also that I was digging for dirt at the library. He was trying to come up with a plan to protect me, but he hadn’t mentioned it in the last month or two. I suspected his efforts had been fruitless.
Both of us worried about what would happen if Bart tried to call in his “favor,” but Marco had assured me that I wouldn’t have to face him alone.
Todd Bingham was the only other person who knew what I was up to, and since he probably hated Bart more than I did, he’d offered to lend his support. I wasn’t naive enough to think the offer didn’t come with strings, but I’d deal with those later. At least Bingham still didn’t seem to know about my real identity.
For now, my plans, such as they were, provided a much-needed light at the end of the tunnel. And helping Zelda reminded me of what I was fighting for. That I didn’t have to settle for a life on the run.
The front door opened and more nostalgia washed through me as Wyatt Drummond, the reneger himself, walked in.
My breath caught as he turned toward me, our eyes locking for a couple of seconds, but he turned away and headed for the bar. As soon as Max saw Wyatt, he slid out from behind the bar, and they headed to the back, presumably to Max’s office. Although the brothers had been all but estranged before the Lula incident, they’d made up. Wyatt came in from time to time, but usually stayed away from me, although he seemed to watch me plenty.
“Carly?” Zelda asked, obviously confused by why I’d zoned off.
“Sorry,” I said, turning back to her with a smile. “You get it now?”
She nodded.
“Good,” I said. “Next time you come in, bring your homework with you. I’m always happy to help, okay?”
Her mother beamed at me. “Thank you, Carly. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Not a problem.” I got up and greeted another family walking through the door, then headed to the back to check on the Baxters’ order.
Some of the construction guys finally came in as I was taking food orders from the new family. The already boisterous men were pulling several tables together, the tables screeching on the wood floor.
“Hold your horses!” Ruth shouted at them, but they ignored her, still talking while they took seats.
Those guys had likely just come from the construction site, and I needed to get over there and find out what they knew. Although I was working on the presumption that the body at the construction site had been buried there by Floyd Bingham, there was still a chance Bart was involved. And if he was, I fully intended to stick it to him.
One of the three tables had come from my section, even if it was now over the imaginary line separating Ruth’s side from mine, so I figured that gave me the right to approach them.
“How’re y’all doin’ tonight?” I asked with a flirty grin.
“We’re doin’ great!” one of the guys said. He’d been around for over a week, and I was pretty sure his name was Rusty. “Had a bit of excitement on the job today.”
“Do tell,” I said, propping a hand on my hip. “What happened?” Sure, I knew from Max, but I wanted to hear it