I’d like to think Bart didn’t kill everyone on his revenge list. “Do you know anything about a man named Ted Butcher?”

Her lips pursed. “The name sounds familiar.”

“He crashed his car into a tree about a week after the explosion that killed the family.”

“There are a lot of car crashes around here—winding roads and careless drivers.”

“But Ted Butcher had two overdoses after that. The last one was two years ago.”

“You think he killed that family and couldn’t live with the guilt?” she asked.

“It’s a theory.”

She was silent for a moment, her eyes far off, then she shook her head. “I don’t know him. I don’t even know of any Butchers in the area.”

“Honestly, there a good chance it’s nothing.” Hank and Bingham were proof enough that drug use was alive and well in the area. He could be an addict who’d crashed his car while he was high. Nevertheless, I wanted to talk to him. It was worth a try.

“Have you heard any more from Emily Drummond?” Thelma asked.

I gave her a tight smile and shook my head. “Not since our tea party in March.” I grimaced. “What do you think will happen to her after Bart’s gone?”

She chuckled. “I like your confidence.”

“Someone has to stop him. It might as well be me. I can’t let him do this to anyone else.” I cocked my head. “Do you know anything about the Palmer family? I take it he owned Jim Palmer Insurance.”

“Yes, but his father owned it. He was Jim, Sr.”

“So the murdered man was a junior.”

“Yes.”

“Any idea what could have instigated Jim, Jr. to go to Bart for a favor in the first place?”

“It might not have been Jim, Jr. who went,” she said with a knowing look. “It may have been his father.”

“Or his wife?”

“Possibly,” she said with a sigh.

I held up my hand as her previous statement sank in. “Wait. You’re saying Bart holds the next generation responsible for the sins of their fathers?”

“And mothers too. A debt must be repaid regardless of who took it out.”

“That’s medieval.”

“It’s archaic.” She grasped my hand. “It’s time to end his reign. He’s hurt far too many people, many of them innocent bystanders.” She squeezed my hand tighter, and her eyes pleaded with me. “But you can’t do this alone.”

“I have Marco,” I said. “Since he’s in the sheriff’s department, he can help me in ways other people can’t.”

“Still, he has his own job to do,” she said evenly. “You need someone with you. Like when you were lookin’ for Lula.”

“There is no one else. And Marco only got involved with looking for Lula because he was bored out of his mind while he was on medical leave.”

“I’m sure that’s what you thought at the time,” she said with a wink. She’d obviously been comparing notes with Gladys and Roberta.

I decided to ignore her insinuation. “I’ll be careful, and if I feel like things are getting scary or out of control, I’ll tell Marco.”

“Good, because he won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” I said simply.

Her expression softened. “That boy loves you. When are you goin’ to give him a chance?”

I groaned, but I couldn’t help smiling. “Not you too, Miss Thelma.”

“Even Greta’s got a boyfriend. You’ve been single far too long.”

I rolled my eyes. “There are other things in life besides having a boyfriend.”

“Maybe so,” she said with a wink. “But they sure do make life a lot more fun.”

“Now I know you’ve been spending too much time with Gladys and Roberta.”

“Seriously, though,” she said, turning somber, “about this case—you need to do this quietly. You can’t let Bart know what you’re up to. Just keep playing it like you’re a concerned friend. In fact, you might want to let this go for a few weeks, or even a few months, then pick it up after things die down.”

“But then it will be too late to help Pam.”

She shook her head, sadness filling her eyes. “Pam’s a lost cause, Carly. There’s no helpin’ her now.”

Chapter Thirteen

I pulled into the jail parking lot five minutes early. I didn’t see Ashlynn waiting for me outside, so I parked in a spot that gave me full view of the exit. Then I waited for twenty minutes, getting more anxious as each one ticked by. I hadn’t gotten her cell phone number—if she had one—and we hadn’t made arrangements about where to meet. What if Ashlynn had come out early and left on her own? Or what if she was still ticked with me and had found her own ride to work?

I hadn’t planned on going inside and calling attention to the fact I was this interested in Pam’s case, but it didn’t feel right to just leave without her. After another five minutes, I got out of the car and headed for the entrance. There was a metal detector six feet from the front door, not that I was surprised.

“Purpose of your visit?” a deputy asked in a bored tone.

I started to answer when I heard a man say, “Carly Moore?”

I turned in the direction of the voice and saw a deputy headed down the hall toward me. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Then again, I’d met a lot of deputies after the Paul Conrad incident.

“Are you here to see Marco?” the deputy asked from the other side of the metal detector. He was close enough for me to read the name on his badge—Taggert. He was in his late thirties or early forties, with thinning light brown hair and medium brown eyes. I vaguely remembered meeting him during that mess, but it hadn’t been memorable.

“Is he here?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah. Just brought a suspect in. Do you want to wait for him?”

“Uh…” I wasn’t sure whether to tell him the real reason for my visit, but it struck me that it would be a whole lot worse if I lied and Ashlynn came out looking for me. Besides, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. “I’m actually picking up a friend. She’s here visiting her mother.”

“Inmate or an employee?”

“Inmate.”

His gaze narrowed, but I didn’t volunteer any more information. I could see judgment brewing in his eyes.

“Is there any way for me to check whether she already left?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “I was supposed to pick her up and take her to work.”

“There’s a desk where visitors log in and out,” Deputy Taggert said, then motioned to the deputy next to me. “Let her through. I’m gonna take her back.”

I placed my purse on the conveyor belt and walked through the scanner. Deputy Taggert watched as I walked through and then grabbed my purse from the x-ray machine.

“How have you been doing since the Deputy Conrad ordeal?” Deputy Taggert asked in a low tone as he led me down a hallway. There was a heavy metal door with a keycard reader on one side, and a counter against the wall next to it. A bored-looking man sat behind a plexiglass shield.