I was pissing people off left and right today. But I knew Marco wasn’t angry with me. He was in pain and likely frustrated. I took comfort in knowing that I didn’t have to rush back—it didn’t seem like he was going to hemorrhage to death while I was gone. I wondered if this was a completely wasted trip, but I still thought a blood pressure cuff was a good idea for Hank. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought of it earlier. Besides which, I’d wanted to come to Ewing anyway. If Marco was feeling okay and wanted to sleep, I could stop by the nursing home before heading back.

Since I wasn’t in a hurry, I took my time, perusing the cosmetics and skin care aisle. Carly Moore was two years younger than Caroline Blakely. I wondered if I should up my skin-care game. I picked out a new eye cream, then put it back when I realized it cost about thirty bucks. Budgeting was new to me, and I still had a lot to learn. I picked out a different one, under ten dollars, and moved on to the hair aisle. While my dye job had covered my roots, it wasn’t great. Maybe I could find a YouTube video to teach me how to make it look more natural.

What did it matter if I didn’t have a job to pay for any of it?

What did Max know about Lula and Greta? Could I forgive him when I found out?

If Max doesn’t give me back my job, I might have to leave.

I was surprised by the melancholy that washed over me. I’d become pretty attached to some of the people in Drum.

I found the section with blood pressure cuffs and stood in front of the shelves, trying to decide whether to get a wrist or armband model. For the millionth time, I wished I had a smart phone so I could use the internet.

“Carly?” I heard a small feminine voice ask to my left.

I glanced up, wondering who had recognized me in Ewing, and I couldn’t hide my shock when I found myself face-to-face with Emily Drummond. She looked frailer than I remembered at Seth’s funeral. She’d tied a blue scarf around her head, and dark circles underscored her pale blue eyes. Her skin hung off of her skeletal frame, but I could see the kindness in her eyes, a sharp contrast to the man she was married to.

Her face lit up with delight. “Oh, it is you.”

“Hello,” I said, so caught off guard that I had no idea what else to say. I grabbed the box in front of me and put it in my basket, not even paying attention to which one I’d picked up.

“Is that for Hank?” she asked. “Max said you were taking care of him.”

“Actually,” I said, recovering from the shock of seeing her. “It’s for Marco. The sheriff deputy who Carson shot.” But of course she knew him. He and Max had been best friends for years. The story he’d told me filtered back—how Emily had come to their apartment to speak to Max, how she’d said something to convince Max to come home from college early.

Her sunken eyes clouded. “When I heard…” Her voice trailed off and the pain on her face made it clear she, at least, had possessed no knowledge of Carson’s schemes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Part of me wanted to tell her it was okay, but it wasn’t, so instead I said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and it stayed there for a couple of seconds before she lifted her face. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Marco is like a second son. When I heard what Carson had done…” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe he shot Marco. Carson knew him. Had watched him grow up. To shoot him in cold blood like that…”

“He shot at Wyatt too,” I said, my voice thick. “He wouldn’t have batted an eye at killing him.”

“To get to you,” a man behind me said in a dry voice.

I involuntarily flinched, but I shouldn’t have been surprised Bart Drummond was with her. Emily looked like she’d blow over in a strong wind. It was a wonder she was out of her house at all. She probably didn’t go anywhere alone anymore.

I slowly turned to my side as Bart walked past me to get to his wife, and his words finally penetrated. He was attempting to make this all about me. “Carson was cleaning up loose ends,” I said, turning the blame where it squarely belonged. “I was a loose end.”

“And my son and Max’s best friend were caught in the crossfire,” he said in a voice so cold goosebumps broke out on my arm.

Emily turned and patted her husband’s arm, but she looked like she was being careful not to upset him. “No, she’s right. This wasn’t personal for Carson. It was a man cleaning up his mess.” Tears filled her eyes again. “Because I can’t let myself believe he’d purposely target Wyatt and Marco.”

Bart wrapped an arm around Emily’s back. “Now you’re upset, love.”

The look he gave me made it clear who he blamed for that.

She leaned into him and gave me a smile, but I saw hesitation in her eyes. A reserve that hadn’t been there before her husband had joined us. What was it like to be married to such a man? I hadn’t been able to ask my own mother, and part of me wished I could ask Emily.

“I hear you’re working for Max at the tavern,” she said. “He has such lovely things to say about you.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond given he’d fired me a few hours earlier, but the last thing I wanted to do was give Bart the satisfaction of saying so. He was the one who’d started this whole mess, somewhere down the line. I lifted my gaze to his as I answered. “Max is a wonderful boss. I’m very lucky.”

“Lucky,” Bart said. “Do you consider yourself lucky, Carly?”

The blood fled from my head, and I had a moment of dizziness as the truth slammed into me.

He knew. He knew who I was.

Everything in me screamed run, but anger and my pride made my back straighten. “I believe luck is what you make of it.”

“A good philosophy,” he said. His mouth stretched into a grin, but his eyes were cold. “One I share. You never know when something interestin’ will fall in your lap, but what really matters is what you do with it.”

Oh, he definitely knew.

Did I leave town? Did I try to reason with him? Maybe this would be the linchpin that convinced Wyatt to finally share his secrets. Because my desire to bring Bart Drummond to justice had just gotten a whole lot more personal.

Emily shook her head and glanced up at her husband. “Don’t bore poor Carly with your work talk, Bart.”

“Despite her…interesting manner of dressing, Carly seems to have a level head on her shoulders,” Bart said with a chuckle. “I’m sure she’s findin’ our conversation quite interestin’.”

I’d wondered when he’d make a dig at my oversized clothes.

“Speaking of work talk,” I said with a smile I hoped didn’t look too forced. “It was lovely meeting your business associate at the tavern this week. Neil Carpenter?” I added, as though to jog his memory. Really, I wanted him to know I’d remembered the man’s name. “I was surprised to see him in Drum yesterday. Across the street from the tavern. I had the impression he’d gone back to Nashville.”

Bart’s left eye twitched. “I’m not sure how you came up with that impression. Neil’s been workin’ on a special project for me.”