A Cry in the Dark (Carly Moore #1) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,100

time we will.”

I stood and faced Bingham. “I’ll agree to your terms.”

He held his hands wide. “Now we’re talkin’.”

“But I have one more requirement of my own to add.”

Bingham laughed in what appeared to be genuine amusement. “Go on.”

“You will reimburse Wyatt Drummond for all expenses incurred from his accident.”

“Now, hold on,” Bingham protested.

“And in exchange, I guarantee that I will give you one piece of information the sheriff doesn’t know.”

“What is it?” he asked.

I dialed up the attitude. “If I told you now, then we wouldn’t need an agreement, would we?”

Bingham turned to Hank. “Now I see why you like ’er. She’s got backbone.”

Hank remained silent.

Bingham’s shoulders lifted as he gave me his full attention for five long seconds. Sweat broke out at the base of my spine, and I was sure he was just going to shoot Hank and take me off to get his answers however he saw fit. But then his body relaxed. “Okay. You’ve piqued my interest. You’ve got your deal, Ms. Moore, and so do you, Chalmers. Let’s hope neither one of you make me regret it.”

I was already having regrets.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Bingham strode up to the dead guy, crouched over, and jerked off his ski mask before letting the head flop back down onto the ground.

“Know ’im?” Hank asked.

Bingham laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You didn’t check?”

“Nope. Decided to let you unwrap your present.”

Bingham stared up at me. He was closer now and the porch light revealed the features the darkness had hid before. Despite his wry grin, I could see that he was a hard man whose answer to problems typically involved violence.

“Ms. Moore,” he said. “Would you like to take a look at him?”

I shot Hank a questioning look and he shrugged.

“I want to see if I’ve served him before,” I said. “I know you’ve sent men to watch me. I want to see if anyone else has done the same.”

Bingham didn’t deny sending someone to watch me, not that I expected him to.

I walked past Hank and down the two steps, walking around the body to look down at his face.

“Well?” Bingham asked.

“There’s not enough light.”

“Gates,” Bingham called out, and within seconds, one of his men was shining a flashlight on the man’s face.

I froze. I’d seen him all right. He’d been at the bar tonight. Ruth had told me that he and his buddy were Bingham’s men. His friend had answered my questions, but this guy had refused to answer me. Had he known that I’d heard him talking with the others in the parking lot?

Had Bingham sent both men to watch me, unaware Cecil was a traitor? Or had the two guys at the bar been working together apart from Bingham? I wasn’t sure, but I suspected that if Bingham hadn’t known they’d been at the bar tonight, he’d assume the friend was a traitor too. I didn’t like the idea of condemning an innocent man.

“He looks familiar,” I said. “And I’m sure I’ve seen him in the bar. Definitely on Monday night.”

“Any other times?” he asked.

I looked up at him. “I’ll think it over and give you an answer during our Q & A.”

I realized we hadn’t determined a time or place, but I had no doubt he’d get in touch.

A slow smile spread across his face. This had become a game to him, and he was enjoying every bit of it.

“Is it one of your guys?” Hank asked.

“Yep,” Bingham confirmed, then motioned to his men. “Cecil Abrams.”

His men surged forward, and the three of them picked up the man—two at his shoulders, the other at his feet—and started to lift him.

“Hold on there,” I said, standing to the side. “Part of your job is cleanup, which means you can’t be spreading DNA all over Hank’s yard. Wrap him up before you carry him off.”

“She’s right,” Hank said. “You clean up the yard. We’ll take care of the porch.”

“You heard ’em,” Bingham said. “Get a tarp. Besides, you don’t want to dirty up the back of your truck, Gates.”

The men dropped the body with a sick thud, and I recoiled in horror. The guy who had brought over the flashlight walked back to the dented truck. A short while later, he returned with the tarp, and they made quick work of wrapping up the body and stowing it in the back of the truck.

“Now the ground,” I said when they opened the truck doors, looking like they were about to load up on their trucks. Even in the