Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,109
runnin’. Got it?”
His statement humbled me. He was right. Things were different today. We were getting closer to the truth, which also meant we were getting closer to whoever had kidnapped and maybe hurt two women. And while I might not trust Wyatt Drummond with my heart, I could trust him with my life. “Yeah.”
He’d left his coat unzipped, and I noticed the dark brown leather strap across his chest. Given what he’d just said, I knew what it meant.
His gaze dipped to his chest before rising back to my face. “I’m carryin’ today, but we can’t count on me to save us. With these crutches and my lack of balance…if things get hairy, I need you to do as I say. Can I count on that?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Let’s go in.”
We walked across the parking lot. I could tell Marco was feeling better by his faster gait with the crutches, but it wouldn’t be smart of me to forget how quickly he’d lost strength yesterday. The same thing could happen today if we weren’t careful. I held the front door open for him, the tinkle of the bell on the door announcing our presence.
Mobley appeared in the long hall to the back within moments, popping through a door. While I’d previously guessed him to be in his late fifties based on the gray in his dark hair, he looked much older now. His eyes were sunken and bracketed by deep wrinkles, and although he was dressed in an immaculate dark suit and pale blue tie, his posture was slumped. The Dwight incident had aged him.
“Carly Moore,” he said in a friendly tone as he approached, but I sensed hesitation. “I hope bad news hasn’t brought you to my door.”
“Oh, no,” I said, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. “Nothing like that. I happened to be in Ewing and decided to stop by and ask about the guest book for Seth’s funeral. Hank and I want to send thank you notes to everyone who attended, but we can’t find the book.”
“Hmm.” He tilted his head to the side, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as his face screwed into a look of concentration. Something must have dropped into place because he finally straightened and said, “I’m fairly certain we gave it to the sister of the minister. I think her name was Paisley?”
“Miss Patsy,” I said with a smile. “I’ll check with her. Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said, his eyes turning wary. “But you could have saved yourself a trip and called.”
“And that’s exactly what she wanted to do,” Marco said, pinning his crutch under his armpit as he reached out and put his hand on my arm. “But you know us men. I wanted to take the more direct approach.” He dropped his hand. “Go straight to the source.”
“There’s something to be said for frankness, Deputy Roland.”
“You know who I am?” Marco asked. He’d kept his tone neutral, but I could feel the tension in his body.
“How could I not?” Mobley asked. “Your face was all over the newspapers. They called you a hero shot down in the line of duty.” He glanced between us. “Are you together now?”
It seemed like an odd question. What difference could it possibly make? Then again, Marco seemed to be purposefully creating that impression. I suspected he wanted to discourage Mobley and whoever he was working with from messing with me. Even in a place like Hensen County, there was still some protection to be had from being a cop, or being with a cop.
Marco leaned closer and snagged my hand, lacing our fingers. “There’s something about trauma that draws people together.”
Mobley’s gaze dropped to our linked hands, then darted back up to our faces, completely devoid of emotion. “We find comfort where we can, especially after a tragedy. I tell my clients that there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to grief, so if they find someone soon after the death of a spouse, it means no disloyalty to their lost loved one.” He took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have something I need to attend to.”
Marco dropped my hand and took a step forward. “On a Sunday morning? I don’t envy your workin’ hours, Mr. Mobley.”
“Well, the dead don’t sleep,” Mobley said with a short laugh.
“Some people would say they sleep eternally,” Marco said.
Mobley blinked, though it looked more like a flinch, then took another step back. “Yeah. I guess so. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”