A Cry in the Dark (Carly Moore #1) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,124

tapped his photo app. A crisp image filled the screen. A rough-looking man was sitting on a dirt bike, wearing a white shirt covered in splotches of mud. “Does he look familiar?”

“I didn’t see the men in the parking lot, Bingham,” I said, sounding as exhausted as I suddenly felt.

His eyes turned cruel as his gaze pinned on me. “The time for lyin’ is done,” he snarled. “Your life just might depend on it.”

I swallowed down my fear and waited for him to continue.

Bingham swiped his screen, pulling up a new photo. “What about him?”

He held up the screen for my perusal.

The image was of a man in camo with a rifle slung over his shoulder, holding up the head of a deer carcass by the antlers.

That was Deputy Timothy Spigot. And suddenly I knew where I’d seen him before, aside from the video and the news article.

Bingham’s eyes lit up. “He’s one of them.”

I lifted my gaze to fully meet his. “I didn’t see his face in the parking lot. I meant what I said, I didn’t see any of their faces.”

Anger distorted his features, and it was clear that he was about to chew me out.

I placed a hand on the table and leaned closer. “If you lose your temper,” I said in a no-nonsense tone, “Max will kick you out in a heartbeat, so I suggest you rein it in. Now.”

His face reddened. “I’m gonna need you to cut the shit, Ms. Moore. Did you see this man outside your motel room or not?”

“For the last time, I’m telling you that I didn’t see any of their faces.” Then, before he could erupt, I said, “But I heard them.”

Bingham went still and several long seconds passed before he finally said in a much calmer voice, “But you recognize the last man?”

I nodded, licking my bottom lip. Was this the right thing to do? Could I hold Bingham off for one more day so I could share my information with the state police?

But the cold hard truth was, I was unlikely to be alive tomorrow unless I appeased Todd Bingham, and the time for stringing him along was done.

I nodded. “I saw him the morning of the shooting. He was at the hospital in Greeneville. He was getting on the elevator on Hank’s floor while I was getting off.”

Bingham held up the phone again. “This man? You’re certain?”

Tears stung my eyes. “Yes.”

I knew the full weight of my admission, and it was heavy on my soul.

His grin was the thoroughly pleased look of an asshole who was used to getting everything he wanted. I’d seen it on my father’s face more times than I could count. Bingham wasn’t just pleased I’d caved—he was getting off on my tears too. He’d broken me, and my emotions were feeding his sick need to control everything and everyone.

That thought straightened my backbone. I was done kowtowing to men like my father. Men like Todd Bingham.

Grow a fucking spine, Carly Moore.

And in that moment, I let Caroline Blakely go. What was left of her was flung into the universe, and Charlene Moore took charge.

“I might have seen him in that elevator, but that’s hardly proof of his involvement,” I scoffed, leaning forward as I eyed him with disdain. There was no way I was letting him know about the videos. “He is a sheriff’s deputy. He could have been there on official sheriff business.”

Surprise filled his eyes as he took in my change in countenance. He shook his head. “He was off duty Tuesday morning.”

“Just because he was off duty doesn’t mean he was one of the murderers,” I said.

He released a bitter laugh. “Spoken like an innocent.”

“Turn him in,” I said. “Let the law take care of him.”

He laughed again, this time with more mirth. “Turn him in to the same snake pit he crawled out of? Are you insane?”

“So turn him over to the state police. Let them sort it out.”

He shifted in his seat and stared at me with cold, ruthless eyes. “Do you have any idea what can of worms would be opened if I did that?” He snorted. “No. This is a Drum problem, and it needs to be taken care of in Drum.” Tilting his head to the side, he studied me as if I were a conundrum he wasn’t sure how to handle. “So you’re claimin’ you heard them but didn’t see their faces?” He leaned forward until he was halfway across the table, his