“That must have been one hell of a fight,” I said.

He gave me a you had to be there look. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Do you think he’d really shoot her?” I asked, scared to hear the answer.

He gave it a moment’s thought, then shrugged. “Maybe, but only if she hounded him. He’s kind of got a temper.”

“Do you think he could have hurt her yesterday?” I asked.

“Nah. I saw him last night. He was with Becca, and he looked pretty happy.”

“Would he look upset if he’d hurt her?”

He gave that question an alarming amount of thought before he answered. “I don’t know.”

I squared my shoulders. “I’m gonna need Chuck’s phone number and address.”

“You’re gonna go see him and ask him if he offed her?” he asked with a laugh.

“Yeah.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I need to know that she’s okay.”

“Why do you care? All you did was give her a ride to town yesterday, right?” He shrugged again. “And no, I haven’t talked to her. I saw her get in your car. I know she was lookin’ for a ride since I wouldn’t drive her or give her the keys to my car.”

“Why wouldn’t you drive her?”

He chuckled. “That’s a good one.”

I didn’t know why that was so funny, but I didn’t press. He was volunteering information, and I didn’t want to screw that up.

“If you really want to talk to him, you’ll have better luck if you go by his work,” Ricky said. “Once he gets off work, he’s harder to pin down. Just ask Ashlynn. In fact, he’s probably workin’ right now.”

“Where’s he work?”

“At the feed store on the north end of town. Farmer’s Feed and Tack.” He gave me a puzzled look. “I still don’t get why you’re so worried. You hardly know her.”

“I’m worried because she’s pregnant and your mother’s not here to help her and her boyfriend took off. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

He shrugged. “Whatever.”

I had a million more questions, but I worried I was pushing my luck, so I gestured toward the group. “What is this? Community service?”

“Hardly,” he said in disgust. “The youth group is cleanin’ up the church grounds for the funeral.”

“Jim Palmer’s funeral?”

Guilt filled his eyes and his chin dipped to his chest. “Yeah.”

“Do you guys usually do that? Clean up for funerals?”

“Only if they’re part-time youth leaders, I guess.”

“Wait,” I said with a shake of my head. “Jim Palmer was a youth group leader?”

“Yeah. Mostly just to help on trips. Not many of the weekly meetings.”

“For how long?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Ever since I’ve been in high school. Longer, I guess.”

“Did your mom help with the youth group?”

“No.” He made a face. “Gross. She watched the babies.”

“I don’t suppose the youth group does things with the babies?”

He snorted. “No.”

“Where’s Thad? Isn’t he old enough to be in the youth group?”

“He refused to come, and boy, is he gonna be in trouble when Dad finds out.” He sounded like he both admired his brother and thought he was a fool.

Melinda Palmer emerged from the door of the church and walked out to her car, and all the teens went silent as they watched her.

“We were sorry to hear about Mr. Jim,” a girl called out.

Melinda looked up as though realizing for the first time that they were there. “Oh. Thank you.” But she didn’t say any more, just got into her car and took off.

“Jim was too good for her,” the same girl said in a snide tone.

“Y’all don’t like her?” I called out.

They looked at me like I’d grown horns.

“Nobody likes her,” Ricky said. “She thinks she’s too good for this place.”

A man walked out of the church and scanned the group. “Seems to me there’s a whole lot of chattin’ goin’ on, and not much weedin’.”

“Sorry, Pastor Bill,” they all called out in weak unison.

His attention turned my way, and a smile spread across his face. “Well, hello. I’m Pastor Bill Atkins. I don’t believe I’ve seen your face around here.”

Crap.

I walked over and extended my hand. “Hi, I’m a friend of Pam’s. I saw Ricky working out here and decided to stop by and check on him.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “That poor family’s been through the wringer with Thad and Ashlynn. And then this mess with Jim.” He shook his head, his bottom lip pushed out. “They’ll need lots of prayers.”

“Pastor Bill,” one of the girls called out while kneeling next to a bush. “Is this a weed?”

“Let me have a look,” he said and started over. After taking a couple of steps, he turned back to me. “It was nice to meet you…?” His voice rose at the end, hinting that I should give him my name.

I waved back. “Nice to meet you too.” Then I got in my car and pulled out of the parking lot.

It was time to talk to Chuck.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Farmer’s Tack and Feed Store was busier than I’d expected, mostly because I didn’t know of any farmers in these parts. There were horses and cows, and one of the families who came in to the diner a lot had a pond full of ducks, but no one was planting crops.

I parked in the lot and stared at the building, trying to figure out how best to find Chuck. There was a gardening section to the left of the building, and two employees were handling customers. A woman ran the cash register and a younger man was loading several bags of potting soil into the trunk of a car parked next to the curb. He loaded the last bag, then shut the trunk and gave it a couple of pats, and the car—driven by an older woman—drove away.

I supposed I could start there and work my way inside. I could grab a cart and pick up a couple of bags of cat litter.

Feeling more confident, I got out of the car and headed toward the garden section just as an older man came out of side entrance and called out, “Hey, Chuck! Move those bags of mulch to the front.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Soto,” Chuck responded, giving him a friendly wave, but as soon as the man went back inside, Chuck kept his hand up and lowered all of his fingers except the middle one.

I rolled my eyes. What a charmer.

The woman at the cash register must have thought the same thing because she shot him a disapproving glare.

While finding him had proven easier than expected, I didn’t have high expectations for our conversation.

Chuck had walked to the back of the garden area and was hefting a large bag of mulch onto his shoulder. I could see why Ashlynn was interested in him despite his crappy personality. He had muscular arms and a pretty boy look. She was thinking with the brain of a teenager, not a woman. Then again, I knew plenty of women who’d fallen for a man’s looks rather than his substance.