Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,108
from the 1960s and 70s. The asphalt parking lot surrounding the building was empty except for two cars on the side of the building—an older green sedan and a shiny black Lexus.
“A Lexus?” I asked when I saw it. “In Ewing?”
Marco shrugged as he pulled into a parking spot in front of the building. “You were with Hank when he buried Seth. Did you ever hear how much the funeral cost? It takes a small fortune to bury a body these days.”
“I never heard,” I said softly. “Wyatt paid for it all.”
“Really?” he asked, turning to me in surprise. “Where’d he get the money?”
“I don’t know.” My mind was racing. I knew the garage didn’t bring in much of a profit. Where had Wyatt gotten the money? It struck me that I didn’t even know where he’d gotten the money for his garage. He hadn’t said, of course, and I’d presumed it had come from his father in some way. But Marco and I were here for our investigation, and I didn’t have time to think about Wyatt’s secrets just now. “I take it the Lexus belongs to Pete Mobley.”
“I don’t know for certain, but it’s a good presumption,” Marco said. “The question is why he’s here on a Sunday morning.”
My eyes widened. “You didn’t expect him to be here?”
“No. It’s Sunday morning and a funeral home director needs to have a good reputation in town. Which means he should be in church, especially since one of his men was caught smuggling drugs into the area using the caskets he uses to bury the townsfolk.”
I’d only been in the area for a month, but I’d already learned one of the stark contrasts between Ewing and Drum—other than spotty cell phone coverage—was that the people in Ewing weren’t as blind to illegal activity as the citizens of Drum. Perhaps it was because Ewing housed the sheriff’s department. Whatever the case, I was sure Marco was right. Pete Mobley needed to polish up his reputation, and being seen in a church pew was one surefire way to do it.
“If you didn’t expect him here,” I said, “then what are we doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to some of the employees about Charlie, and get their take on Dwight and Mobley. I figured we’d take what we learned and go to Mobley.”
“Wait,” I said, turning to him. “You’re not just asking to find Greta and Lula. You think Mobley had something to do with those drugs.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re damn right I do. I never bought that he was a victim.”
“But he was cleared of all wrongdoing.”
His brow lifted. “And look who cleared him.”
“Hensen County Sheriff’s Department.” I pushed out a sigh. The corruption in this area ran deep. Fighting it felt like pushing a boulder uphill. “So what do you want to do? Wait?”
He stared at the building for a few moments. “No,” he said, “but we need to think of a reason to be here asking questions.” He shot me a glance. “What if we ask him something about Seth’s funeral?”
It was a good idea, but what could we ask about that he wouldn’t see through in a second?
“Oh,” I said. “We never found the guest book. I told Hank we should call and ask about it, but he said one of the ladies in town likely had it.”
“That’s perfect,” Marco said, his eyes glittering. “Let’s go.”
He got out of the car and grabbed his crutches from the backseat. When I met him at the front of the SUV, I said, “No overdoing it today, Marco. You’re no good to me if you’re half dead.”
He grinned. “But I’ve still got it even when I’m half dead…which reminds me that your clothes are still at my house. I meant to bring them to you and forgot. Want me to call Wyatt to come pick them up?”
I shot him a glare.
“You know he’s jealous as shit, don’t you?” he asked. “He hates that you’re hangin’ out with me. Especially with my reputation.”
“Maybe so, but that wouldn’t stop me. He doesn’t have any say over what I do.” Especially now.
I started to walk toward the front door, but he blocked my path with the tip of his crutch.
I looked up at him in exasperation. “Marco. This doesn’t seem like the time or place to be discussing Wyatt.”
His gaze held mine, his expression unusually serious. “If you find yourself in trouble, you call him. Broken up or not, that man will drop everything and come