I would have felt more relieved if he’d flat out denied sleeping with her, but it was obvious this was the best I was going to get. “So Bingham’s in the running for the father, but I don’t think he knows about her pregnancy. Could there be anyone else?”

“Why are you askin’ me?” he asked defensively.

“You seem to know more about her personal life than Ruth does.”

A frown tilted his mouth down. “Ruth is hard on ’er. She thinks Lula’s slow and dimwitted, and she’s hurt her feelin’s more times than I can count. Lula purposefully keeps her personal life from Ruth because she doesn’t want her to rip it apart.”

I felt disloyal for even thinking it, but I suspected Marco was probably right. I’d seen their dynamic play out the night before at the tavern. “Surely Lula has someone she talks to. A friend she confides in.”

“As you’ve figured out, working at the tavern doesn’t leave much time for socializin’, but last I heard, her closest friend is Greta Hightower.”

I repeated her name. “Where have I heard that name before?”

“She’s a waitress at Watson’s,” he said.

I shook my head, working it over. “That’s not it.” I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “Max slept with her and pissed her off.”

Marco cringed. “Yeah, Max mentioned something about that.”

“Do you think you can talk to her?”

He snorted. “I’m not sure she’ll talk to me. I’m guilty by association with Max.”

“Then there’s no way she’ll talk to me. I work for him. And then there’s the fact I’ve been filling in for her best friend at the tavern. She might be one of the people who think I’m trying to steal Lula’s job.”

“Maybe you can butter her up by talkin’ bad about Max.”

I was already shaking my head. “Max has been more than generous to me. I won’t do that to him.”

“Well, you took Lula home last night, and you’re lookin’ for her now. Surely she’ll want to help you find her.”

“If she trusts me. It’s all about trust, Marco.”

“Yeah,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up, “but you have a way of makin’ people trust you, Carly. Just be honest with her and she’ll see that you’re on the up and up.”

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Well, I won’t be talking to her tonight. I’m barely going to get to work on time as it is, but I’m off tomorrow afternoon.” I gave him a sly smile. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

“Why do I think it’s going to Watson’s Café for breakfast with you?”

“Because you’re more than just a pretty face, Marco Roland.”

“Ha!” he said with a laugh. “Try convincin’ my boss of that.”

“You’ll prove it to him by finding Lula.”

“She still could have taken off again, Carly.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, because I’d had a few moments of doubt. “But my gut tells me that someone took her. And I feel really guilty about going to work knowing she’s in trouble.”

He nodded. “Yeah, me too, but you have to promise me you won’t go off and try looking into this by yourself. It’s too damn dangerous, Carly.”

“You’re going to help?”

“Only if we do it together.”

“Really?” This felt too good to be true. I’d been prepared to make a half dozen other arguments to turn him around.

“Look,” he said. “It’s like I told you, I’ve got nothing but time on my hands, and I’m worried about her too. I could get in trouble running an investigation on my own while I’m on medical leave, but if you’re searchin’ with me, it’s just two people lookin’ for a friend.”

I raked my bottom lip with my teeth. “Do you think I should call in sick to work tonight?”

“If we had a solid lead to follow, then yeah, maybe. But we’re chasin’ our tails at this point, and it’s Friday night. Max and Ruth need you. Plus, maybe you can pick up information from the customers.”

He had a point, but I still hated the idea of doing nothing until tomorrow. If someone had taken Lula against her will, we didn’t have much time to help her. Given she was gone, I’d be pulling a double on Sunday and Monday. Tomorrow would be my only chance to look into her disappearance for the next few days.

When I raised my concerns to Marco, he released a long groan. “How about this? I’ll drop you off at Watson’s so you can see if Greta’s there. But I’ve got the waitress schedule there down pat, and she’s typically off on Fridays.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You know the waitresses’ schedules?”

“Hey,” he said defensively. “When I’m on shift, I usually eat lunch there.”

“Not Max’s?”

He grinned. “I can’t look like I have favorites.”

I snorted. “Let me guess—they hire pretty waitresses.”

His grin lit up his eyes as he stole a glance in my direction. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

When we got into town, he found a parking space on Main Street, a few shops down from Watson’s Café.

“You don’t have to wait for me, Marco,” I said. “I can just walk down to the tavern when I’m finished.”

“I’ll stick around in case she’s there. I want to see what you find out.”

“Okay.” I got out and strode down the nearly deserted sidewalk to the café, tugging my jacket tighter around me. The wind had picked up, and it was colder than it had been earlier. I wondered if another storm was moving in. That wouldn’t bode well for my search for Lula. I’d been warned that the mountain roads sometimes became impassable when there was a heavy snow. I’d already stocked Hank’s cupboards with enough staples to keep us fed for a week if, or more likely when, that happened.

The smell of fresh apple pie hit me full in the face when I walked through the door to Watson’s, and my stomach grumbled. I took a second to orient myself. Although I’d had their breakfast sandwiches, I’d never been inside the café before, but I’d walked past it a dozen or so times on my way to the library.

The dining area was smaller than in Max’s Tavern, and the tight space was crammed with tables, but the walls were a pale blue and the large windows made it seem lighter and airier. Only a handful of tables had customers—a group of teens and an older couple. I didn’t see any waitstaff, but as I walked toward the back, a woman called out, “Just take a seat anywhere.”

“Thanks…” I said, realizing I should have come up with a script. “I can’t stay, but I was hoping to put in a to-go order.” I hadn’t intended to get anything, but now I was starving and it gave me an excuse for being here. Even if Greta wasn’t working, the other waitstaff might know something useful about Lula.

A young woman popped out of the back. “Sure thing.” She was wearing a pink waitress dress with a white collar, plus white sneakers with white cuffed socks. Thank goodness Max didn’t make us wear anything so cheesy. Her head tilted as she studied me, her long blonde ponytail swishing to the side. “Say, aren’t you the new waitress at Max’s?”