Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,69
she doesn’t have a boyfriend, where did you think she was last night?”
Melody pressed her lips together, then said, “I’ll get you that picture.”
She spun around and went into the house, but Critter stayed in place.
Marco tipped his head toward me and said in a hushed tone, “Something’s off here.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why isn’t she worried? And why didn’t she answer when you asked where she thinks Greta might be?”
“She either knows where Greta is or she knows who intercepted her.”
“You mean took her,” I whispered.
He made a face. “I’m hoping she’s shacked up with an ex somewhere, but I suspect that’s wishful thinking. Still, I’m gonna ask her about Greta’s exes just in case.”
“Good idea.”
Melody came back a few minutes later, holding on to a photograph. “I found one.”
She went to the bottom of the steps and held it out to us, making it obvious we were going to have to wade through the mud to get it—meaning, I would wade through the mud to get it.
As I slogged my way over, Marco asked, “While we’re here, can you give me the names and numbers of some of Greta’s ex-boyfriends?”
She pulled the folded photo back as I tried to reach for it. “Why?”
“We’re hopin’ to find her, so we’re gonna ask around.”
She held the photo to her chest and narrowed her eyes. “You need to stay away from Tim Hines. That man is trouble.”
“So Tim Hines is one of her exes?” Marco asked. “When did they break up?”
“About three months ago. She was sleeping with another guy, but it didn’t work out.”
“Do you have a name for the other guy?”
“Nah, she said it was a one-time thing, but based on the way she moped around, I could tell it was more than that for her.”
Was she talking about Max?
“Did she break up with Tim Hines because of the other guy?” Marco asked.
“Nah, she broke up with him because he’s an asshole, but he always suspected she moved on to someone else. He couldn’t imagine she’d prefer to be sleepin’ alone than dealin’ with his bullshit.”
“How long was she with Tim?” Marco asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, sounding frustrated. “Less than a year, I guess. Maybe nine months?”
“Did she live with him?” Marco asked.
“Not at first. She was livin’ with me, helpin’ with the kids, but then she moved in with him after she and me had a fight. It happened around the end of the school year because she weren’t here to fix the lunches for the kids for the last-day-of-school picnic. But she came back from time to time, usually with some kind of bruises on her arms and once on her face. One time after she came back—toward the end of the summer—she had these awful bruises on her back, like someone had hit her with something long and skinny.”
“Like a belt,” Marco said in a tight voice.
Melody lifted her hand to her chin with a look of deep concentration. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”
“Did she go back to him after that?”
“She did, but she was back about a week later, sportin’ a nasty black eye. She admitted he’d hit her, and said she was done bein’ his punchin’ bag.”
“How’d he take that news?” Marco asked.
“Not well. He came over nearly every night, trying to get her to come out, but he gave up after a week or two.”
“Did he try to break in or become violent?”
“Nah,” she said. “I mean, he yelled plenty, and sometimes he’d come here drunk and throw things at the trailer. He broke that there window,” she said, pointing to the boarded window to her right. “But he never tried to force his way in. And after a few hours, he eventually left.”
“How many times do you think he came over?” Marco asked.
“I don’t know. Seven? Ten? Enough to be annoying as shit, especially after he broke the window. I told Greta she either needed to tell him to go away or go back to him, because I was getting tired of his shit.”
What a lovely sister.
“Did she confront him?” Marco asked.
“I don’t know, but she said she’d take care of it, and he only came back one time after that.”
I couldn’t help wondering what had convinced him to stop. Given the expression on Marco’s face, he was wondering the same thing.
“Did he pester her at work?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” she said, waving the photo. “Old Mr. Watson wouldn’t put up with that shit. He even watched her in the parking lot