A Cry in the Dark (Carly Moore #1) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,131

spun me around so that I was facing him, pressing my back to the tree.

“I’m not sure the best way to handle this,” he admitted. “I just know I can’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Wyatt…” My voice broke.

“I’ve been waiting my entire life for someone like you, Charlene Moore,” he said with a chuckle, but his voice broke, and it wasn’t lost on me that he’d used my alias. “I don’t want to risk losin’ you now.” He paused for a moment. “If you still want to leave when this nightmare is over—and if you’re open to it—I’ll go with you. We’ll find a way to take down your father so you’ll be safe.”

His mouth lowered to mine as his hand skimmed my neck. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I kissed him back with everything I had.

“Let’s go with my plan,” I said, pulling away slightly. “Do you know where the nearest state trooper headquarters is?”

“Knoxville. That’s two hours away.”

“Then we better get movin’,” I said with a forced smile.

He let that settle for a second, then called out, “Okay. We’re comin’ out, Marco, but we’re going to the Highway Patrol headquarters in Knoxville ourselves.”

“That’s fine,” Marco called out. “But I still plan on givin’ you an escort to keep Carly safe.”

Wyatt took my hand and led me back to the path. My ankle still hurt, and I limped slightly, but at least I could put weight on it. We’d just started down the path when I heard a truck engine approaching.

“That’s bound to be Carson,” Wyatt said as we continued heading out. “I’ll let him know the plan.”

But just as we reached the opening of the trailhead, two gunshots rang out, and Wyatt hauled me back into the trees.

Chapter Thirty-One

Wyatt ran deeper into the woods, but the tree canopy was so thick I struggled to see the path. My burner phone didn’t have a flashlight, but I wouldn’t have risked using one anyway. The path was littered with rocks of various sizes, which tumbled as we climbed, revealing our position.

“You’re safe now, Carly,” Carson called out. “You can come on out.”

Beams of light speared the darkness, so I pulled Wyatt off the path into the trees. We crouched in front of a small opening in the leaves that gave us a bird’s-eye view of the parking lot.

At the trailhead, Wyatt’s tow truck had obscured our view of the deputy’s SUV, but I could now see it parked at the back end of the tow truck. Ten feet to the side of the sheriff’s vehicle was the beat-up old pickup truck that I’d now seen at two murders.

“Carson was the driver, not Dwight,” I whispered. “Carson killed Bitty. That’s the truck.”

“You’re certain?” When I shot him a dirty look, he lifted a hand. “Sorry. I had to ask.”

Carson stood next to the tow truck and was looking inside the window. A rifle hung from his right hand.

“We’re in deep shit, aren’t we?” I whispered.

“We’re definitely at a disadvantage without a gun,” he conceded.

“I have one.” I opened my purse and pulled it out. “But there are only four bullets.” Foolishly, I’d left the box of ammunition at Hank’s.

Wyatt frowned as he reached for it.

“Are you allowed to hold a gun?” I asked. “Isn’t it against the law for you because of your felony?”

He took the gun from me and checked the clip. “I’ll do whatever is needed to keep you safe, but in this case, you’re keepin’ the gun. I’m going to lead him deeper into the woods, and you’re going to hide in the trees until he passes you. Once he’s out of sight, run to the truck and go get help.” He handed the gun back to me, and I tucked it in the waistband of my jeans at my back.

I clutched his arm. “I’m not leaving you here, Wyatt.”

“It’s you he wants, not me. I’ll be fine.”

I didn’t buy that for a second. “Wyatt.”

“Look, Carly. You’re not used to hiking, and you’re definitely not wearing the right footwear.” He glanced down at my ankle boots. “Carson’s an experienced hiker, and if we try to run together, he will catch up with us. This is the best plan. Take the gun and the tow truck and head back to Drum. Go to Max. He’ll help.”

I could see the wisdom of his plan, but it seemed like the chickenshit way to go. Even though I didn’t stand much of a chance of protecting him against a murderer, it felt

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