“I think we should go sit outside,” Marco said with a mischievous grin. “It looks like a beautiful morning.”

“You’re terrible.” I shook my head. “Call your mom, and I’ll go take a shower. Then we can sit outside.”

I tossed my clothes into the dryer before I went into Marco’s bathroom. My shampoo and conditioner were still in the shower from the last time I’d stayed over. When I got out, I blow-dried my hair, then put on a clean pair of his sweatpants and one of his T-shirts.

Marco was talking on the phone when I came out, and he cracked a smile, pointing to the phone and mouthing Mom as he flapped his hand to pantomime that she wouldn’t stop talking.

Grinning, I refilled my coffee, while Marco said, “I’ve got to go, Mom…yes, I’ll come see you soon… love you.” He hung up and lifted his brow. “And that is why I don’t call her very often.”

I leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Perhaps she wouldn’t spend so much time talking to you if you called her more often.”

He refilled his own cup and took a sip. “Ah, the age-old chicken and the egg mystery.”

“You’re lucky to have a mother, Marco. Don’t take her for granted.”

He placed a kiss on my forehead. “Touché. Thanks for the reminder.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Mom says that Hilde’s a very early riser. Like five-in-the-morning early. You can go anytime.”

“Okay.”

“But I’m going with you.”

“Marco… we discussed this last night.”

“No, I agreed it would be best if you talked to Bingham and other people on your own, but Hilde’s different. Mom wants me to give her condolences on her behalf.” When I gave him a dubious look, he said, “Carly, I’m going. My mother will kill me if I don’t.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to read too much into the relief washing over me. I had to admit that I’d felt awkward about dropping by Heather’s grieving aunt’s house unannounced to pepper her with questions about her niece’s death.

“But I have to take a quick shower, so give me fifteen minutes.”

I laughed. “My clothes are still in the dryer, so unless I go in your clothes, I need to wait anyway.”

He gave me a playful grin. “They look way better on you than they ever have on me.”

Then he headed around the corner to the bathroom.

I was tempted to let Molly and Ginger handle the lunch rush on their own so I could go to Ewing to talk to Dick and May—I suspected Max wouldn’t give me a hard time for trying to clear his brother’s name—but Molly had just started and it was Ginger’s first day. I didn’t want to toss them to the wolves. I’d figure out what to do after I talked to Marco.

I peered out the window and saw Wyatt’s truck still parked at the end of the drive. Giving in to a moment of weakness, I found a travel mug and filled it with coffee, then headed out the door toward the truck.

Wyatt sat up straight when he saw me, rolling down his window. “Now, Carly, before you say anything…”

“Here,” I said, handing him the mug. “You probably need this.”

His eyes widened in surprise as he took the coffee.

“I know why you’re here. And I know I led you to believe I hit a dead end, but I’m planning to do more digging today. I’m visiting Hilde Browning first. Then I have an appointment with Bingham at ten. I’ll see if I have time to do anything else before I go to work.”

His eyes darkened at the mention of Bingham’s name. “Why the hell are you visiting Bingham?”

“Look, you asked me to do this, so that means you have to trust me.”

He didn’t respond.

“I didn’t have to tell you anything, Wyatt, but I felt guilty that you spent the night out here.” I paused, and when he didn’t say anything, I added, “Marco’s a deputy sheriff. If I need protecting, he’s perfectly capable of doing the job.”

“I’m sure he’s protectin’ you,” he murmured in a deep voice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re standing in front of me, wearin’ his clothes.”

Rolling my eyes, I spun around and started back to the house, but then I turned back to face him. “I don’t want you anywhere near Bingham’s while I’m there.”

His anger flared. “Are you crazy?”

“He’s not going to do anything to me, and it might screw things up if he knows you’re there. I mean it, Wyatt. If you feel the need to follow me, then stay off Bingham’s property.”

“What the hell kind of arrangement do you and Bingham have?” he shouted after me. “Why would he make you his baby’s godmother?”

Ignoring him, I headed back to the house. The dryer was done, so I changed into my clean jeans and a shirt I’d left at Marco’s a few weeks ago before seeing to breakfast.

Marco was done soon after that, coming into the kitchen wearing a navy blue thermal shirt that clung to the muscles of his arms and chest underneath. I forced myself to avert my gaze.

“Something smells good,” he said.

“I made breakfast.” I placed two plates of scrambled eggs with salsa and toast on the table.

“I’m tempted to ask you to move in with me,” he said as he sat down.

“Ha!” I said as I grabbed some silverware and placed it next to him. “I think Hank might have a thing or two to say about that.” With the thought of Hank, I said, “You go ahead and start while it’s hot. I’m going to check in with Hank and let him know I’m okay.”

I grabbed the cordless phone and placed the call, but when I started to leave the room, Marco motioned me over to the table. “Carly, eat while you talk. Don’t worry about being rude.”

Hank answered right away, which surprised me since it usually took him several rings to get to the phone.

“Chalmers,” he answered in a gruff tone.

“Hank, it’s me,” I said, caught off guard because he hadn’t answered with his typical hello. “What’s going on?”

“I was just about to call you at Marco’s,” he said. “There’s a warrant out for Wyatt’s arrest, and a couple of deputies just came here lookin’ for him.”

My eyes widened, and I turned to Marco as I asked Hank, “What did you tell them?”

“The truth. I don’t know where he is, and I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning. I didn’t tell them he asked you to look into the murder, but they might find out.”

“Okay,” I said, my heart racing. I knew I couldn’t let them arrest him. I had to find the real murderer, with evidence to back it up, because something told me that if Wyatt got locked up, he wasn’t coming out anytime soon. If ever. I’d already cycled through the possibility that Bart had set up Bingham (or vice versa), but I hadn’t stopped to consider that one of them might have intentionally set up Wyatt. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Will you warn him if you see him? I know the two of you aren’t seein’ eye to eye, and I’ve been givin’ him a hard time for months, but there’s no way he killed that girl. Not Wyatt.”