I stopped a couple of feet into the room. “I’ve been busy.”

“Yes, you have, haven’t you? What with Tutoring Club and your community outreach to those in peril, I’m sure you don’t have much spare time.”

Was she talking about Pam? Had she caught wind of what I was up to?

Max gave me a wary look but didn’t go over to join his mother.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said hastily. “I just needed to ask Max about the keg replacement, but then I heard voices and I wasn’t sure if Max had invited a lady friend upstairs.”

Emily laughed but it sounded forced. “Yes, one of my sons sleeps around while the other pines for you.” Her mouth pinched. “Shame on the lot of you for lettin’ me think you and Wyatt were together when you broke up months ago.”

I didn’t want to touch that subject. It hadn’t been my lie. That one was squarely on the Drummond men. I backed up a step toward the door. “So, Max? The keg?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking thrown. “Just use your best judgment.”

“Max, why don’t you go take care of the keg so us girls can have a chat?” Emily said, but it wasn’t a question.

“Oh, that’s all right,” I said, taking another step. “I’ll just be on my way.”

“Really, Caroline,” she said in an icy tone. “I insist.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Max’s eyes widened. He started to say something, but when he saw I didn’t correct her, he stopped.

Panic flooded my body, and I nearly ran down the stairs to escape, but I had to be smart about this. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that she knew my secret. Even if Bart hadn’t told her, no doubt the information was there at her house, available for the taking. Now, I had to find out what she wanted.

I turned to look at Max, not surprised by the confusion on his face. He thought Carly was a nickname for Charlene. “I think I’ll stay and have a chat with your mother.”

He still hesitated, as though he thought leaving us alone wasn’t a good idea.

“Marco had almost run the keg dry about five minutes ago, so he needs an answer.”

“Carly,” he said, then cast a glance to his mother.

“Really, Max,” Emily said in an amused tone. “Why are you acting so strangely?”

He opened the door, and I called out, “Would you refrain from telling Marco that I’m up here?” If he knew I was alone with Emily, I suspected he’d barge in.

“Uh…” He glanced back to his mother again.

“And also keep this from your father,” Emily added. “Basically, this is all a big secret. Can you keep it?”

He shot her a dark glare. “Haven’t I already?” Then he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“Don’t mind Max,” she said, making a dismissive wave with one hand. “He’s a bit out of sorts after the conversation we were having before you appeared.” A smile lifted her lips. “Which was quite fortuitous.” Her brow lifted. “Or was it?”

“If you’re implying that I was spying, you couldn’t be more wrong. I thought Max had brought a date upstairs. I had no idea it was you.”

“Well then, lucky me.” She gestured to the chair next to the sofa. “Come have a seat. I’m straining my neck to look up at you.”

I moved over to the chair and sat down. “Why did you call me Caroline?”

She laughed. “Please. Don’t insult my intelligence. Bart’s known your secret practically since you came to town. Of course I know it too. And I’m certain Wyatt does as well. Whenever I bring up questions about your past, he gets cagey and changes the topic. But Max…” She released a sigh. “He has a tendency to be short-sighted. I get the impression he knows you’re not who you say you are, but he doesn’t seem to care about the truth.” She tilted her head as she studied me. “You should go back to being a blonde. It suits you better.”

“Beauty tips aside, does any of this have a point?”

“I think perhaps we have a common quest, and it might be to our advantage to pool our resources.”

My heart began to race. “I’m listening.”

A slow smile lifted her lips, and the triumphant look in her eyes suggested she thought she’d already swayed me. “You’ve been asking questions about poor Pam Crimshaw, but perhaps you’re looking in the wrong direction?” She lifted her voice at the end.

Did she know I was looking for information to tie Pam’s case to one of Bart’s favors? Was she looking to bring him down?

I hesitated. “I take it you have a suggestion?”

“Perhaps…”

“You’re insinuating that you know what I’m up to,” I said. “What is your interest in this?”

She laughed. “Carly, the last time we met, I told you I’d been looking for an exit strategy. Perhaps you and I can work together.”

I considered her suggestion. Did she really want to put her husband away? Or was she using me to feed information back to her husband? “That would mean I’d have to trust you,” I said.

She tilted her head. “Yes, but I would have to trust you as well.”

“How do you figure?”

“What I’m about to tell you…only two people know. If Bart finds out that you know…let’s just say it would be to my detriment.”

“He wouldn’t presume the other person had told me?”

“The other person doesn’t like to discuss…business.”

Who would she be talking about?

“Why would you trust me?” I countered.

She laughed. “Your true colors show through, my girl, which isn’t necessarily to your advantage. But it is to mine.” Pausing, she shifted her weight on the sofa. “I know my husband has threatened you to keep you in line. I also know you’re not the kind of woman to take that lying down.”

She watched me, waiting for a response, and when I didn’t answer, she said, “Exposing my husband would benefit us both. Bart would no longer have control over you, but he would also no longer have control over me. It’s a win for both of us.”

“Obviously you want me to do the dirty work,” I said.

“Let’s just say the other party doesn’t care for me much, but I understand you’ve garnered favor with him. Perhaps he’ll be more willing to accommodate you.” Her lips lifted into a tight smile. “Taking care of Bart will benefit him as well.”

“So why hasn’t he done it himself already?”

“It can’t come directly from him either, but I suspect he’d trust you to handle it.”

Was she talking about Bingham? He would benefit from Bart’s downfall and likely revel in it, but I couldn’t imagine he would have failed to act if he had incriminating information on Bart.

“So I go to this person,” I said, “and convince them to tell me what they know?” I shook my head. “I don’t even know what this is about.”

“I told you that you were looking in the wrong direction. You’re looking at recent history, but you need to look deeper into the past.”