Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,83
It didn’t feel right driving Marco’s vehicle and using his gas, but I reminded myself that I was making the trip for him. Nevertheless, I wondered what people would think if they saw me driving his SUV, especially since I was wearing a baggy outfit that obviously belonged to a man. Did I care? Did it matter?
When I pulled into the Walgreens parking lot, I dug my phone out of my purse and checked my cell service. Two bars. Drum had absolutely no coverage, but I’d discovered that Ewing had spotty areas, and I’d lucked out. I called Marco, and it took him several rings to answer.
“Hello?” He sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up.
“Hey, Marco,” I said. “I had to go to Ewing to get the monitor, but since I’m going to be gone longer than I expected, I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” he said, sounding grumpy. “I was sleeping.”
“How’s your pain? Better? Worse?”
“I’m fine, Carly. Stop worryin’.”
That was asking for the impossible. “This shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” he said. “I’ll probably sleep a little while longer, then heat up my meatloaf for dinner.”
“If you have any problems before I get back, you can call Ginger. She said she would send Junior to come check on you.”
“Junior? Why in the hell would you send Junior out to check on me? I’m fine.”
I was beginning to think I’d overreacted, but Marco wasn’t the best patient. I suspected he was grumpy because he was in pain.
“Of course you are,” I said. “But call her anyway if you have any problems. Okay?”
“If I have any problems, I’ll call one of my friends,” he snapped. “I’ll see you when you get back.” Then he hung up.
I was pissing people off left and right today. But I knew Marco wasn’t angry with me. He was in pain and likely frustrated. I took comfort in knowing that I didn’t have to rush back—it didn’t seem like he was going to hemorrhage to death while I was gone. I wondered if this was a completely wasted trip, but I still thought a blood pressure cuff was a good idea for Hank. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought of it earlier. Besides which, I’d wanted to come to Ewing anyway. If Marco was feeling okay and wanted to sleep, I could stop by the nursing home before heading back.
Since I wasn’t in a hurry, I took my time, perusing the cosmetics and skin care aisle. Carly Moore was two years younger than Caroline Blakely. I wondered if I should up my skin-care game. I picked out a new eye cream, then put it back when I realized it cost about thirty bucks. Budgeting was new to me, and I still had a lot to learn. I picked out a different one, under ten dollars, and moved on to the hair aisle. While my dye job had covered my roots, it wasn’t great. Maybe I could find a YouTube video to teach me how to make it look more natural.
What did it matter if I didn’t have a job to pay for any of it?
What did Max know about Lula and Greta? Could I forgive him when I found out?
If Max doesn’t give me back my job, I might have to leave.
I was surprised by the melancholy that washed over me. I’d become pretty attached to some of the people in Drum.
I found the section with blood pressure cuffs and stood in front of the shelves, trying to decide whether to get a wrist or armband model. For the millionth time, I wished I had a smart phone so I could use the internet.
“Carly?” I heard a small feminine voice ask to my left.
I glanced up, wondering who had recognized me in Ewing, and I couldn’t hide my shock when I found myself face-to-face with Emily Drummond. She looked frailer than I remembered at Seth’s funeral. She’d tied a blue scarf around her head, and dark circles underscored her pale blue eyes. Her skin hung off of her skeletal frame, but I could see the kindness in her eyes, a sharp contrast to the man she was married to.
Her face lit up with delight. “Oh, it is you.”
“Hello,” I said, so caught off guard that I had no idea what else to say. I grabbed the box in front of me and put it in my basket, not even paying attention to which one