Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,46
into my purse, I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her, but when she grabbed hold of it, I didn’t let go.
“I know you don’t trust me, Greta, but I swear I only want to protect Lula. If you can think of anything that will help me find her, I’m begging you to tell me.”
Her response was a glare.
I’d screwed this up. I should have given my approach more thought, but I hadn’t, and now Lula would pay the price.
My voice wavered as I pushed past the lump in my throat. “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the tavern until it closes. You can come by and see me or you can call. I’ll stop whatever I’m doing to talk.”
Her determination seemed to waver for a second, but then the steely resolve returned to her eyes. She tugged harder on the bill and I released it, making her stumble backward a half step.
“I’ll get your change,” she snapped.
“Keep it,” I said as I turned my back to her and headed out the door
I was back at square one, and I only had myself to blame.
Chapter Twelve
Marco was tapping his thumb on the steering wheel when I walked up to his Explorer, singing along to a country song I didn’t recognize. I opened the door and climbed in, grateful for the warmth of the interior.
“That took a while,” he said, turning down the volume so the music was in the background. “But I won’t complain since it looks like you brought food.”
I was about to tell him that some of it was for me, but a quick glance at his dashboard clock confirmed it was 5:02. If I walked in with food from Watson’s, Ruth would have my hide.
I shoved the bag at him. “Greta was there. She’d just started the dinner shift.”
“No shit!” he exclaimed in excitement. “What did you find out?”
“Not much.” I spilled our conversation.
“Okay,” he said. “You didn’t get confirmation that Bingham is the baby’s father, but it wasn’t nothing. We filled in a few blanks.”
“But I didn’t get anything that will help us find her,” I protested in frustration.
“Don’t you worry, little bulldog,” he said with a grin as he peered into the bag. “We’re not givin’ up. I’ll pick you up at Hank’s at nine, and we’ll drop by Watson’s for breakfast, just like we planned. I know for a fact she’s workin’ the Saturday morning breakfast shift. We’ll keep tryin’ until we wear her down. It might take a few days, but she’ll spill.”
“Thanks for not tossin’ in the towel,” I said in relief.
“Slow and steady wins the race,” he said as he popped a couple of french fries into his mouth. “Ain’t you never read the tortoise and the hare story?”
Nostalgia washed through me, sweet and sappy, tugging me back into my grief over the life I’d lost. It had been part of my third-grade language unit on fables. I’d been a good teacher, but I’d never teach again unless I found some way to deal with my father. Fat chance of that. Wyatt had changed his mind, and I couldn’t even get Greta to talk to me. Tears tracked down my cheeks, and I reached up to wipe them.
“Ah, Carly,” Marco said, pulling me into an awkward hug on the front seat of his SUV. “We’ll find her. Don’t give up yet.”
“Thank you, Marco.” As I pulled away, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I got dinner for myself too, but I think Ruth will pitch a fit since I’m late, so you can have it.”
He peered into the bag and crinkled his nose. “What’s in the cup?”
I leaned over to look. “My side salad, but there’s also a club sandwich.”
“A salad?” he said with disgust, as though I was trying to get him to snack on rat poison.
“Yes,” I teased with a groan. “You should give it a try.” I opened the door and started to get out. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t overdo it tonight since you’ve been so busy today.”
“Yes, Mom,” he said with a chuckle.
I grinned back at him, rolling my eyes. When I turned around, I ran smack-dab into Junior, the mechanic who worked for Wyatt.
He grabbed my arm to keep me from falling on my butt.
“Oh hey, Junior,” I said, taking a step back. “How are you? How’s Ginger? I heard Maria had a bad cold last week.” Junior’s wife helped out with Hank sometimes, and although Hank