Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,70

to make sure Tim didn’t bother her comin’ and goin’ from her car.”

Marco nodded and seemed to be considering what she’d told us.

“But we ain’t heard hide nor hair of Tim in months. Since mid-August or so. What’s he got to do with any of this?”

Marco ignored her question. “You’re sure Greta wasn’t seein’ anyone else over the last year? Just Tim and the one-time guy? Was there someone new recently? Someone who could have made Tim jealous?”

“No one I know about, but she ain’t one to share her life and her feelings,” she said, emphasizing the last part with derision. “You know?”

Marco looked her dead in the eye, his body stiff. “Yeah. I know.”

“You think she took off?” Melody asked. “I’m goin’ out tonight, and she was supposed to watch the kids.”

“Honestly, Melody,” Marco said in a tone drier than burnt toast, “I have no earthly idea.”

“You gonna look for her?” she asked in a hopeful tone. Marco’s delivery had gone right over her head.

“Not in an official capacity,” Marco said. “I’m still on medical leave. I’m just here checking on a friend. But if you think she’s in danger, you should call the sheriff and report her missin’.”

“Why don’t you do it?” she asked with a mixture of fear and anger in her eyes.

“Because I doubt they’ll listen to me.” He tilted his head in my direction. “Now, if you’ll hand that photo over to Carly, we’ll be gettin’ out of your hair.”

Melody glanced down at the now-crumpled photo, the hard lines of her face softening for a moment before she reluctantly handed it to me. “I still don’t know why you’re mixed up in this.”

I opened my mouth to answer, still not sure what I intended to say, but Marco beat me to it. “She’s helpin’ me. I got to know Greta pretty well at the café. I eat there several times a week when I’m on duty, and since I’m still recoverin’, Carly offered to help.”

I took the photo and tried to give Melody a genuine smile, but I was still struggling to read her. Was she actually worried about her sister’s well-being, or did she feel inconvenienced by the disappearance of her built-in babysitter? I suspected it was the latter.

I backed up several steps, having formed the impression it might not be a good idea to turn my back to the woman in such close physical proximity. When I was several feet away, I turned around to check on Marco. His crutches were sliding, and he was struggling to maintain his balance.

I knew perception was everything on this mountain, and in most instances, I would have left Marco to flounder, simply because it could be seen as a mark on his manhood if he were to accept assistance, but he’d told Melody I was there because of his injuries, and the tension on his face told me he was not only struggling but hurting too.

I moved next to him and took his left crutch, then slung his arm over my shoulder. “I’m gonna drive.”

I half-expected him to protest, but instead he leaned into me and let me lead him to the passenger door. I opened it and helped him maneuver so he could hop up. Since the crutches were a muddy mess, I put them in the cargo area before getting in on the driver’s side.

Melody studied us as though she were watching a carnival sideshow.

“Where do you want to go now?” I asked as I pushed the button to start the SUV. Marco had the key fob in his pocket. “We didn’t get Tim Hines’s address.” I backed out onto the road and headed toward the highway.

Melody stayed on the step, watching us leave.

“We don’t need Tim Hines’s address,” he said, his entire body tense. “I know where he lives.”

I was about to ask him how he knew, but Marco’s obvious pain was my number one priority at the moment. “You’re overdoing it, Marco.” When he didn’t protest, I became even more concerned. “How bad is your pain?”

“I just need to take a couple of pills,” he said. “But they’re at home.”

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll drop by your house so you can take some. We also need to talk to Mr. Watson at some point.”

“If he’s there,” he said, shifting his leg and pushing his seat further back to extend his leg. “He doesn’t stick around a lot on the weekends.”

We’d deal with that later. I was still worried about Marco. “Where are you