“Because I needed him to know how much you mean to me, and if he’s puttin’ you in danger, then he better do everything in his power to keep you safe.”

Of course, I’d been thwarting him at every turn.

“Well, I don’t need him tonight. Can you call him off?”

“He made a vow and he’s bound to it until I release him. Did you run into any trouble today?”

“None, other than Wyatt himself—and don’t worry, he’s just being his usual overbearing, withholding self.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You don’t need to do this, girl. Makin’ Bart pay won’t bring Seth back.”

A lump filled my throat. “No, it won’t, but justice still needs to be meted out.”

“Just be careful what you wish for.” Then he hung up.

What was he talking about? Did he think he deserved some sort of punishment for the things he’d done?

I got busy after that and didn’t have time to dwell on it. Max sent Ruth home at ten, but first he told us that Ginger had agreed to help with the lunch shift. Molly would be there too, so Ruth wouldn’t have to come in until five.

By 11:30, the tavern was mostly empty, so Max decided to shut down early.

Marco was mopping the floor and Max was cleaning behind the bar, and I sat at a table to finish tallying my tips. Thankfully, I’d already done most of them before we closed.

Wyatt sat down in front of me. “I need to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said in a breezy tone as I kept my attention on my tickets.

“You plan to just ignore the fact that you pepper sprayed me?” he asked, incredulous.

Lifting my face, I said, “I gave you fair warning, then followed through.”

“You pepper sprayed him?” Max called out from across the room.

Marco stopped mopping to watch us.

Wyatt ignored his brother. “Where did you go after you left me in the parking lot gettin’ beat up by two old ladies?”

“If I wanted you to know, I would have told you.”

“Don’t you think I have a right to know given that you’re lookin’ into something that directly affects me?”

“You’re presuming I did something pertaining to Heather’s murder.”

“Well, didn’t you?”

“Again,” I said, “if I wanted you to know, I would have told you.”

“You heard her, Wyatt,” Marco said, walking over from across the room, still holding the mop. “Let it go.”

Wyatt spun in his seat to face him. “This is none of your business, Roland.”

“And as Carly herself told you, it’s none of yours either,” Marco countered, resting the mop on the floor and leaning against it.

“Marco,” I said, “thank for your intercession, but Wyatt was just leaving.”

“I’m not leavin’ until you tell me where you went,” Wyatt said, his hand clenching into fists on the table.

“Wyatt,” Max said in a low tone. “Enough.”

Wyatt stood, his face red. “Don’t let your pride get you killed.”

Then he stormed out the back door.

We all stood in silence for a few moments before Max said, “Will someone please tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Marco glanced at me, waiting for my cue.

“Wyatt came by Hank’s this morning,” I said, pushing the tickets toward the center of the table. “He asked me to look into who killed Heather, but he expected to chauffeur me around. So he’s pissed that I didn’t allow that to happen.”

But it was more than that, and I knew it. I just didn’t like it.

Chapter Eighteen

Marco insisted on following me to his house in his sheriff’s SUV, just in case someone decided to run me off the road. I thought he was overreacting. I hadn’t poked any bears yet. Or at least I didn’t think so.

I pulled into the driveway behind his Explorer. Marco pulled in next to me, and we met in front of the steps to his front porch. He stretched his arms wide as I got close, and I went to him, letting him engulf me in a hug.

“How are you really, Carly? Because you’re not the type of woman to just pepper spray somebody because they pissed you off.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Give me a minute.”

“Okay,” he said, holding me close.

We stood like that for a long time—me clinging to him, Marco holding me up as the silence surrounded us.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he finally said.

“Are you talking about trying to figure out who killed Heather or staying in Drum?”

“All of it. What happened when you went to see Emily?”

The night was chilly, but I liked being out under the stars. “Can we sit outside for a bit?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away and rubbing my arms. “Do you have a jacket?”

“No, but—”

“Come inside and change into something warmer,” he said. “Then we can sit out on the porch.”

“Okay.”

I headed to his room and helped myself to a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt from one of his drawers, then tossed my jeans, shirt, and undergarments into his washing machine and turned it on. When I emerged from the bedroom, I found Marco in the kitchen making two cups of tea. He handed one to me.

Balancing his own tea, he grabbed a blanket from the sofa and headed out the door to sit on the two chairs on his front porch.

I settled in my usual chair, and he dragged his seat closer to mine and threw the blanket over both of our legs. I took a sip of tea. “Teatime with Emily wasn’t what I expected.”

“So you mentioned.”

“Bart wasn’t there, so small blessings, but Emily didn’t know they’d found Heather’s remains.”

“Seriously?”

“I think Bart assumed I’d tell her, but I didn’t. I’m still not sure that was the right call, but Bart was using me and I didn’t want to play by his rules.”

“Sounds like a Bart move.”

“Emily was more open than I expected and shared things I didn’t even ask about. She confessed that Bart was a terrible father, even told me she’d considered leaving him at some point but she’d stayed for fear he’d maneuver to get full custody.”

“Yeah, that was a good call,” he said, lifting his foot to rest it on the porch railing.

“I asked her about Heather, and she seemed willing to answer my questions. She didn’t approve of her either. In fact, she was the one who suggested they pay her off. She even wrote the check. According to her, Bart was surprised she left town for so little money. He’d expected to pay more, and she sounded like an opportunist. Which makes me wonder why she took so little.”

“The way you said that makes me think you have a theory,” he said, then took a sip of tea.

“What if she was working with someone else, with the hope of making more money?”

“And who would that be? To what purpose?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that she left for a shockingly low amount.”