One Foot in the Grave - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,34

do the other women in my life.” He made a face. “Ignore them. What brings you by, anyway? Wantin’ a look at the hole?”

I grimaced. “Maybe? But that’s not the only reason.”

“That construction guy hasn’t given you any more trouble, has he?”

“What?” It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. “No. I haven’t seen him since the night Wyatt punched him.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Which brings me to the other reason I’m here: Wyatt dropped by Hank’s this morning. Lookin’ for me.”

Marco’s eyes darkened. “What for?”

“He wants me to help clear his name. While he wasn’t arrested, he’s sure he’s suspect number one.”

“He is,” Marco said with a frown. “How’d he take it when you turned him down?”

“Well…”

Disappointment filled his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. “You didn’t turn him down.”

“No.”

He nodded and turned his gaze to the giant hole in the earth. “Why are you helpin’ him?”

“Because I don’t think he killed her.” When he didn’t answer, I said, “Do you think he did it?”

“No.”

“But you’re not happy I’m lookin’ into it.”

“I’m not,” he said. “It’s an active investigation, for one thing, which means you could get slapped with a charge of obstructin’ an investigation.”

“They can do that?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah, Carly,” he said, sounding irritated. “They can do that.”

“Why are you mad at me?” I asked, trying not to sound hurt.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed at him for puttin’ you in this position. He had no right to ask you, Carly, but he was countin’ on you bein’ too nice to say no.”

“Is that why you think I’m doin’ it?” I asked, starting to get pissed myself. “Because I’m too nice to say no?”

He gave me a sad smile. “No. I think you’d say no if you didn’t want to do it.”

“But you’re disappointed in me for saying yes.”

“No,” he said, but then he shrugged. “Yes. Look, I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

He had a point—he’d been there to help me pick up the pieces of my heart after it had been broken in December.

“I have an ulterior motive for doin’ this, Marco,” I said in a whisper. “I know Heather’s murder has ties to Bart Drummond. I’m gonna figure out how.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

As if on cue, Bart’s voice called out from the trees. “Why, is that Carly Moore I spot on my property?”

I gave Marco a tight smile, then turned to face the Drummond patriarch. I hadn’t seen Bart since the meeting he’d summoned me to in his office, and I sure as hell didn’t intend to cower to him. I only hoped I didn’t get Marco in trouble.

“Curiosity got the cat?” Bart asked as he strolled toward us.

“Over an empty hole in the ground?” I asked in a bored tone. “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. I’m here to see Marco.”

“I heard you two are an item, yet not,” he said, his gaze jumping from me to Marco then back again.

A shiver ran down my back. It didn’t surprise me that Bart was aware of our friendship—he was the kind of man who made it his business to know things—but it was still unnerving. I’d already landed a target on Hank—would my friendship with Marco put him in danger too?

“We’re just friends,” I said.

“Very good friends,” Marco said in a deep voice.

Bart grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Relationships these days. All that swipin’ right and left.”

“Not much of that goin’ on in Drum,” I said before I could stop myself. “Not with the limited access to internet and cell phone coverage.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Bart said, his eyes lighting up. “All that’s about to change. I’ve got a commitment from two cell phone carriers to add towers close to the resort. We’ll soon have access to the outside world.”

My blood ran cold. I’d heard rumblings about that before, but the way he said it made it sound like it would be happening sooner rather than later. I knew what he was telling me. Or rather threatening. My anonymity wouldn’t last much longer.

“What are you doin’ back at the crime scene?” Marco asked, and I was sure he used the term crime scene to antagonize Bart.

From the look on Bart’s face, it had worked. But the irritation quickly faded, replaced with the fake-as-could-be pleased look he seemed to wear most of the time. “I’m eager to get construction back on track. What’s the word, Deputy Roland?”

“I’m hearing it should

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