Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,62

server to bring it over. I thought he might want to discuss matters, but he seemed lost in thought and I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to talk about things in public, especially with the tables so close together. When Angie brought our bags and Melody’s phone number, Marco already had his money out to pay for the food. When I protested, he said I could pay for lunch.

I grabbed the food bags and headed to the entrance, holding the door open so Marco could hop outside.

“Should we go see Melody first?” I asked. “I mean, if Greta stayed somewhere else last night, there’s no reason for us to risk pissing Max off.”

He shook his head. “I know for a fact Greta doesn’t have a boyfriend right now. My gut tells me we need to talk to Max first, then Melody.”

“Marco,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach. “Do you think…?”

“We just need to talk to Max,” he said in a no-nonsense tone. I had to give him credit for insisting we go to Max first, especially since I knew how Max was likely to react, but surely it also meant he believed in his friend’s innocence.

“Okay,” I said with a nod. “I’m going to walk, but why don’t you drive down and park behind the tavern? It will be easier on your leg.”

“You don’t want to ride with me?” he asked in surprise.

“No. I need a little fresh air to clear my head.”

I took off toward the tavern, my stomach sinking deeper with every step I took.

Max was my friend. I didn’t want to think badly of him, but something strange was going on. Marco was right about one thing—hearing about Neil Carpenter had set Max off. It had also made him pissed about the whole Lula thing, when he hadn’t much cared about it before. But why?

Well, no borrowing trouble until we talked to him.

By the time I made it to the parking lot, Marco had already parked and was heading, slowly, toward the back door.

“I presume you’ve got keys?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I handed the take-out bags to him, then dug the keys out of my purse. After I unlocked the door, I took the bags and held the door open.

“I bet he’s asleep,” I said as I followed him in and let the door close behind me. “I don’t think I should be the one waking him up.”

“I’ve got that part covered.”

I gave him a nervous glance. “How are you going to get up those stairs?”

“Don’t you worry about that. Go start a pot of coffee.”

Coffee was a good idea. Max was going to need plenty of it. Shoot, I needed it. I set the food bags on the counter in the kitchen and then found Tiny’s stash of industrial-strength coffee and started some brewing.

I heard clomping on the stairs going up to the apartment. Marco hadn’t explicitly asked me to stay downstairs, and I figured I should probably hear what they said to each other. I couldn’t forget that Max was the son in good graces with his father, and Marco was Max’s best friend. There were motivations at work I didn’t understand. Besides, I’d never been up to Max’s apartment before, and I had to admit I was curious. Grabbing the take-out food bags, I started up the narrow stairwell, wondering how Marco had made it up with his crutches.

When I reached the landing at the top, I found the door to the left partially ajar. I pushed my way through the opening into a large, loft-style living room facing the street. It ran the full width of the building and had an industrial look. I could see that a wall had been ripped out—the wood base was still attached to the unfinished wood floor. Opposite the wall of windows was a kitchen that looked like it had come from a salvage yard—old cabinets that obviously were not original yet were so worn I couldn’t figure out why they had been dragged in, a newer stainless steel refrigerator, and an old avocado-colored stove.

The walls on either side of the space were brick, and I could see the ceiling had been ripped out, exposing wood beams, but they weren’t evenly spaced and looked like they needed to be ripped out rather than salvaged.

As far as seating went, the large living room only had a brown sofa and a fake brown leather recliner. Against the far wall was a long wood cabinet that held