Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,93

on the porch a couple of feet in front of me. “What the hell’s goin’ on with Max? The tavern is closed, and when I went in to find out why, Max was drunk off his ass. But he was coherent enough to go on and on about how he fired you for stickin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I don’t want to miss the good stuff,” Marco called out good-naturedly. “Come on in, Wyatt.”

Wyatt gave me a look that let me know he was waiting for my permission, so I stepped aside and let him in. The motion jarred my arm, and I realized I was still holding the phone.

“Hank?” I said into the receiver. “Wyatt’s here. I’ll be home soon.”

“I thought you were workin’ tonight.”

“Not tonight. I’ll explain later.” I ended the call and replaced the receiver on the phone’s base as Wyatt took a seat at the kitchen table across from Marco.

Wyatt looked Marco dead in the eye. “What’s goin’ on with Max?”

So he wasn’t mad at me. He was upset about his brother.

Fair enough. So was I.

“Good question,” Marco said as he scooped up some mashed potatoes with his fork and took a bite. He was trying to play nonchalant, but it was plain as day that he was as upset as Wyatt.

“I know you and Carly went to see him this morning. Why’s he so upset that you’re lookin’ for Lula?”

“I don’t know,” Marco said, setting down his fork. “But you and I both know he only gets like this when something’s eatin’ at him.”

Wyatt was silent for a moment, then said in a voice so low I could barely hear him, “Do you think Max had something to do with Lula’s disappearance?”

“No,” Marco said confidently. “He would never hurt her.”

I didn’t believe it either, but I had to wonder why he was so upset. Everyone else believed she’d just taken off again. While he’d questioned why I thought differently, he hadn’t tried to dissuade me. He’d told me to keep it from Ruth. He hadn’t gotten truly upset until I said something about Neil Carpenter.

“But you think he’s involved anyway,” Wyatt said in a low growl.

Marco gave me a questioning look, then turned back to Wyatt and said, “We’ve come across some information about Lula that we’re not at liberty to divulge.”

The message was loud and clear. Do not tell Wyatt Lula was pregnant.

I expected Wyatt to get angry, but instead he tapped the tip of his finger against the tabletop and toggled his attention between the both of us.

“I wasn’t under the impression this was an official investigation,” he said in a lazy voice, yet I saw the tension in his shoulders.

“It’s not,” Marco conceded.

Wyatt released a short laugh. “You sure act like you’re treating this as an official investigation. You’re just not checkin’ with the sheriff’s department.” He glanced away before turning back to Marco, his jaw tight. “Is my brother a person of interest in Lula’s and Greta’s disappearances?”

I was taken aback that he knew about Greta, but then of course he did. He’d known where to find me because of Ginger. But his language—person of interest and official investigation—was even more jarring. This had started as Marco and I trying to find Lula, and he was right. It had turned into something more.

Marco started to say something, then swallowed it. “We’re not at liberty to say.”

Wyatt’s entire body vibrated with anger. “You’re supposed to be his best friend.”

Marco held his gaze. “Not all of us cover up crimes because of our personal relationships.”

Wyatt jumped to his feet, his chest heaving. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Roland.”

“Maybe I know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

For several long seconds, I thought Wyatt was going to jump him, but then he took a step back, his hands clenched at his sides. “Carly. It’s time to go.”

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I said it’s time to go,” he said through gritted teeth.

My back stiffened. “That caveman attitude might work on the women in Drum, but it’s not gonna fly with me.”

“So you’re gonna stay here with Marco?” he asked. “Because Ginger made it sound like he was at death’s door, yet he seems just fine, eating his meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

I stared at him, at a loss for words.

“Drummond,” Marco said in a calm voice, still seated in his chair. “Carly and I need to discuss our case. You may wait outside, and if she changes her mind about goin’ with