One Foot in the Grave - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,43
green with intensity. “I will never hurt you, Carly, and I will never lie to you either. Because I know you’ll never, ever trust me again the moment you catch me in a single lie. I’m tellin’ you right now to leave this alone. Let it go. I’ve racked my brain tryin’ to figure a way to get you out of this, and all I ever come up with is a lot of nothing. Which is why we should move on to plan B,” he said, glancing down at the food bag. “We need to get you out of Drum.”
“What about Hank?”
“I’ll find a way to protect Hank, even if it means gettin’ him out of town too.”
“He’d never go, Marco, and if he did agree to leave, I’d bring him with me.”
His gaze lifted to mine. “You can’t do that, Carly. Do you know how conspicuous you’d be together, a beautiful thirty-year-old woman travelin’ with a one-legged older man? When you run, you need to hide.”
I didn’t say anything, because as much as it hurt to admit, he was right. When I ran, I’d lose everyone I cared about. Again.
The thought lit a fire in me. I was done being jerked around and manipulated. I wasn’t losing Hank and I wasn’t losing Marco. I was standing my ground. I was getting justice.
My jaw tightened. “No. I’m not going.”
“Why?” he pleaded. “To save Wyatt? A man who lied to you and broke your heart?”
I looked up at him, my voice breaking. “It’s complicated, Marco.”
“I’m in no hurry. Why don’t you explain it to me? Help me understand.”
“It started off as helping Wyatt, but you’re right. Most of his lies have been lies of omission, but they’re lies nonetheless.” I paused for a moment to consider it. “Several people want me dead, Marco. And if Bingham hadn’t found me last December, for all I know, I’d be buried in a mountainside too. Right next to Greta.” I shivered at the memory. “They probably would have pinned our deaths on Bingham—on the obvious suspect—and doing that wouldn’t have brought me justice, just like it won’t bring Heather justice. I want the person who really killed her to be held responsible.”
“You mean you don’t trust the Hensen County Sheriff’s Department to conduct a fair and thorough investigation?” There was just a hint of humor in his voice—both of us knew there were probably more corrupt cops than not. He’d admitted as much in the course of our search for Lula and Greta.
“Can you honestly say you do?”
He pushed out a long sigh. “What else is pushin’ you to do this?”
“That threat hangin’ over Hank’s head. If I can’t figure out a way to make Bart pay for all he’s done, he’s going to keep playing me like a fiddle. Do you expect me to leave him at Bart’s mercy? How do you expect me to leave him at all?”
“Hank would hate that Bart’s usin’ him as a threat to you.”
“Which is why we can’t tell him,” I insisted. “Because then he’ll force me to go.”
“Don’t you see you’re lying to him too? One of those lies of omission?”
I covered my face with my hands, realizing he was right.
He pulled my hands away, lowering his head so we were eye to eye.
“I don’t want to leave him, Marco. I have to stay.”
“I know he’s like a father to you, but he wouldn’t want you riskin’ your life. You know that.”
“I’m tired of running,” I said in a whisper. “I’ve been running from my father like a coward. Maybe it’s time to take a stand.”
“Then I’ll help you take a stand against your father, but leave Bart Drummond out of it.”
My mouth parted in shock. “You’d help me take on my father?”
“If that’s what it takes to make sure you’re safe, then yeah.” He sat up straighter. “Isn’t that what Wyatt promised and failed to deliver?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. It was a rhetorical question. “My father is part of an international drug cartel. You think Bart’s tough? He’s a cakewalk compared to Randall Blakely.” I shook my head, my voice calm and even. “No. I start with Bart because he’s practice for the big leagues and he was behind Seth’s death. He may not have pulled the trigger, but he was part of it, and I’m going to make sure he pays for that.”
Marco was silent for several long seconds. “You’re gonna need help.”