Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,65
my doorstep, Carly, and I’m done.” He waved his hand toward me and nearly fell over, and I realized he was still drunk. But it didn’t matter. His words had hurt me to the core.
“Max,” Marco said slowly, “Do you know what happened to Lula?”
“I am not havin’ this discussion at nine thirty in the morning while I’m fightin’ a hangover from hell.”
Marco’s entire demeanor changed, and if I had been Max, I would have thought twice about sassing him. “Why are you so shit-faced drunk, Max?”
“That’s none of your goddamned business,” Max snapped.
“You only get drunk like this when something’s eating at you,” Marco said, and I could see he was struggling between being Max’s friend and Deputy Roland.
“Get out,” Max said in a cold, dead voice
“Max,” Marco said, lowering his voice and hobbling closer. “You’re like a brother to me, man. You can tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Max’s gaze dropped to the floor for a couple of seconds, and when it rose back up to Marco, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You haven’t wanted to know what’s been goin’ on in my life since I came back home. Why’re you gonna start now?”
Marco looked stricken. “Max.”
Turning to me, Max looked me in the eye. “You don’t belong here. Go home, Carly Moore, if that’s even your name. Leave Drum, and never look back.”
His words didn’t hold the heat or anger I would have expected. He sounded like I’d utterly exhausted him.
He couldn’t have hurt me worse if he’d plunged a knife to my chest.
Marco’s eyes widened, and he glanced back and forth between us in confusion.
Defeat washed over Max so hard, he looked like he was about to crumple to the floor. He shook his head and stumbled backward two steps. “I’m goin’ to bed.”
Then he walked down the hall, leaving Marco and me wondering what in the hell had just happened.
Chapter Sixteen
“Come on, Carly. Let’s go,” Marco said, but I could see his indecision.
Tears stung my eyes as I stared at the spot where Max had gone around the corner. “I don’t want to leave him like this.”
“Max needs sleep right now. He can be a mean drunk just like his…” His words trailed off and he pivoted on his crutches. “He needs to sleep it off.”
“Just like who, Marco?”
“Let it go, Carly.”
“Let what go? Max? Lula and Greta? What just happened here? Should I leave town with my tail tucked between my legs?”
“No,” he countered. “And that’s not what Max wants either, trust me. He’s totally shit-faced. When he sobers up, he’ll apologize to the both of us. If he even remembers any of this. You’ll still have your job, and it will be like this never happened. Now, let’s go.”
There was no way I could pretend like this had never happened. Especially since Max had been acting so guilty.
He knew something about Lula.
We went downstairs, which was slow going for Marco. When he got to the bottom, he headed to the bar, and I wondered if he was going to pour himself a drink at nearly ten a.m., but instead he grabbed the phone out from under the counter. He dialed a number from memory and waited.
“Tiny? This is Marco. Y’all might need to close today. Max is havin’ another episode.” He paused for a moment. “Yeah. How about I put up a sign? Will you call Ruth?” He paused again. “Nah, I’ll take care of lettin’ Carly know.” A couple of seconds passed. “I’ll check on him later and let you know.”
Marco hung up and leaned on the counter for several seconds, looking like he was on the verge of breaking down. Finally, he turned to me, his eyes glassy. “Max is a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer or a kidnapper.”
I nearly broke into tears. “I’ve only known him for a little while, and even I know that.”
“I’m strugglin’ here, Carly. Max knows more than he’s tellin’ us.”
“I know.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
That snapped him out of his limbo, and he returned the phone to its place under the counter. “No. I’m even more determined to find out what happened. If for no other reason than to clear his conscience.”
But if Max knew something about Lula’s disappearance, was easing his conscience possible?
“We need to hang a sign,” Marco said, looking weary. “Can you make it and tape it in the window?”