A Cry in the Dark (Carly Moore #1) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,67

to the side as I held it open.

“I’m sure Hank will appreciate havin’ a fine young thing givin’ ’im sponge baths,” Dwight said as he stopped next to me, looking me up and down. He had the audacity to give me a leering wink.

I held his gaze and tried to rein in my temper. “I highly doubt that Mr. Chalmers will be thinking about sponge baths while mourning the death of his beloved grandson.”

He shrugged with a grin. “He may be in mournin’, but he ain’t dead.”

“I’m here to help Mr. Chalmers see his dead grandson,” I said in a voice that should have frosted the glass door I was still holding. “If you can’t help me with that while treating us both with respect, I’ll be happy to have a chat with your boss.”

He held up his hands in self-defense. “Whoa. Down there, girl. No need to get your panties in a bunch.”

I was about to jerk the wheelchair from his grasp, but he pushed ahead of me and guided it down the ramp, toward the truck. He did a double take and asked, “Is this Wyatt Drummond’s truck?”

Should I be worried that this lowlife was familiar enough with Wyatt to recognize it?

“That’s none of your concern,” I snapped.

He shot me a grin, then opened the passenger door of the truck, calling out good-naturedly, “Hey there, Hank. I’m Dwight and I’m gonna be helpin’ you inside.” His respectful tone caught me by surprise. “The whole damn town’s upset about Seth.”

“Dwight…” Hank said faintly. “You Ben Henderson’s son?”

“Yes, sir,” Dwight said as he helped Hank turn sideways in his seat. “One of ’em.”

Hank nodded but didn’t say anything.

Dwight slung Hank’s arm over his shoulder and helped him down. He got him settled in the chair and started pushing it toward a side door.

“I thought you were workin’ at the dog food plant down in Greeneville,” Hank said as Dwight pushed the chair across the parking lot.

“I was, sir,” Dwight said, still sounding respectful. “But my pa took sick, so I found something closer to home. I was lucky enough to get hired on by Mobley a couple of months ago.”

Hank nodded with an absent look in his eyes. “That’s good. Family’s important.”

“If you could get the door?” Dwight said to me. His tone was civil, but his snide grin told a different story.

I walked ahead of them and opened the single door, hoping the wheelchair would fit. Once I reached it, I turned around to see Dwight’s gaze on my denim-covered ass.

He pushed the chair past me and licked his lower lip.

It took everything in me not to throat-punch him.

“Hank,” I heard Mobley call out in a soft voice. When I followed Dwight and Hank inside, I saw the funeral director coming down the hall to greet us. “I am so sorry to hear about your loss. And after the loss of your poor daughter last year and Mary a year or so before that…” He shook his head. “I’m just so sorry.”

Hank’s eyes welled up and he hung his head. “I can’t believe he’s gone. That’s why I’m here. To see it for myself.”

“When I heard you were wanting to see him today, I explained the situation to the medical examiner’s office in Johnson City. They let us pick him up early this morning, but I’ve got to warn you, Ol’ Jimmy hasn’t had a chance to work his magic yet.”

“That’s okay.” Hank’s voice shook, and his face had lost color.

“Maybe this is all too much, Hank,” I said, pushing past Dwight and squatting next to the chair. He’d just been released from the hospital. He likely shouldn’t even be making this trip. “We can come back tomorrow or come early for the visitation.”

“No,” he said, sitting up straighter. The adjustment made him look even frailer, but there was nothing weak about his voice. “I want to see my grandson.”

“Then we’ll do it together,” I said with a reassuring smile.

Hank nodded, his eyes glassy and his chin trembling.

I wanted to get this over with and get him home and settled.

“Let’s all head on back,” Mobley said as he spun around and started walking.

I stayed next to Hank and studied him. If I saw any sign that he couldn’t handle what was happening, I’d find a way to get him out of here.

We headed down a long hall into what looked like a hospital room—or a morgue—with a stainless steel table in the center of the room. A body covered