“See there?” he said with a wide grin. “No mouthin’ off. Just doin’ as you’re told. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I clenched my fists under the table. “I’m here as you requested. You have five minutes.”

His grin widened. “You like to think you’re in control, but there’s a long-ass ladder to climb to get to this level, Ms. Moore. The sooner you learn your place, the healthier you’ll be.”

A threat to be sure, but what was he threatening me about? Shane Jones?

Marco had said something about Bingham’s limits, and I knew I was in danger of pushing them. But I needed to talk with him. He was my number one suspect, and he was sitting right in front of me.

One thing I’d learned about Bingham was that he’d take anything he was given and many things he wasn’t. If I kowtowed to him, I’d get nothing. “If you don’t like me sniffin’ around your boy, then perhaps he shouldn’t be followin’ me so closely.”

His eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Shane Jones.” Before I could think better of it, I blurted out, “I know you had him stalking Greta. Did you have him take her too?”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he repeated, sitting up straighter.

“Don’t play stupid, Bingham. It’s not a good look for you. I know Shane Jones is working at the nursing home in Ewing to keep an eye on Greta Hightower, and he followed her to the café last week to ask about Lula. She came back and disappeared again, so it stands to reason he took Greta in an attempt to recover something from Lula. Or maybe he thought Lula had given something to her.”

He reached over and grabbed my wrist, squeezing tight, his eyes blazing with fury. “I’m gonna ask you one last time what the fuck you are talkin’ about.”

I glanced pointedly at my arm, then back up at him. His grip was tight enough to leave bruises. “You’re damn lucky Max isn’t here. Now get your grimy hand off me.”

He gave me another squeeze for good measure and then released me.

So this was a pissing contest. Good thing I hadn’t peed for hours.

“Are you trying to claim Shane Jones isn’t one of your men?”

“He’s not.”

I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out my cell phone, then opened it to the photos. “You don’t know this guy?”

I held up my screen so he could see the grainy image of Shane’s headshot.

“Why the hell would I?” he barked.

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you lying to me?”

His dark brown eyes locked on mine. “No.”

Pushing out a breath, I exited out of the photos.

“Why would you think I took the waitress from Watson’s?”

“Because she’s missing, and currently you’re my number one suspect.”

To my surprise, he burst out laughing, which scared a couple sitting at a table a row away. They got up, snatched up their coats, and left.

I gestured toward them. “They just walked out without payin’. You’re gonna cover their tab.”

“The fuck I am,” he said, but his tone wasn’t as gruff as before. It was almost droll. “Let me get this straight. You think I took Greta Hightower to question her about Lula. Why the fuck would I give a shit about Lula?”

He was the very last person I should tell about her pregnancy, so I had to take a different tack. I still hadn’t asked him about the packages, and it seemed like the time was right.

“Did you have Lula deliver a package for you?” I asked. “Maybe you’re waiting on payment.”

His eyes darkened again. “No one, and I mean no one, questions my business dealin’s.”

“Greta said Lula’s been delivering packages when she goes away. Greta has no idea what’s in them or who’s behind it.”

He grinned, but his eyes were intense and unamused. “So basically, you’re sayin’ she doesn’t know shit.”

“Obviously someone thinks Greta knows. That’s why she’s missing.”

But saying it out loud, the theory started to ravel. Why would Lula’s kidnappers have cared about getting information from Greta? Or had they taken her to keep her quiet about Shane’s snooping? But I wasn’t sure that made sense. It stood to reason that Greta had already told her friends about her odd encounter with him at the café. Sure, he could make her disappear, but it would only draw more suspicion, not minimize it.

What if there were two parties involved in this? What if the first party had Lula and the second party wanted the packages and took Greta thinking she might know about them?

I had to rethink everything.

Because the more I thought about it, the more I believed that the person who took Greta didn’t have Lula.

So who did?

Bingham looked me in the eyes. “And you think this Shane Jones took her.”

I shook myself out of my musings. “Yeah.”

Of that I was sure.

He glanced over at the bar. “Do you think he took Lula too?”

Did I share my theory with Bingham? I suspected the information highway with Bingham was a lot like Wyatt’s—one way. Better to keep as much to myself as possible. “I don’t know yet. There are more clues to follow with Greta. I’m hoping it leads us to Lula too.”

“Us? You and the deputy?” He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You been deputized, Ms. Moore?”

“No. I’m just a concerned citizen lookin’ for two missing women, with a deputy on medical leave who has been kind enough to come along as backup.” I purposefully diminished Marco’s role. The last thing he wanted was for Bingham to set his sights on him. I cocked my head, then added, “Does Tim Hines work for you?”

“Do you think I go around publicly announcing all my associates?”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Then tell me this—did Greta come to you last August or the first of September asking for your help with Tim Hines?”

“And if she did? Why would you want to know?”

“If she did, I suspect she gave you information in return for making her life easier. You were dealing with Carson Purdy’s gang, and I’ve heard Greta’s sister was working for them.”

“And your point?”

“I need to know if you got Hines to back off,” I said. “The details of the transaction are between the rest of you. I’m only interested in whether he’s a credible suspect.”

“In the waitress’s disappearance?”

“She has a name. Do her the courtesy of using it.”

He glanced at the bar again. “Hines moved on soon after Greta left him. I’m not at liberty to go into the details.”

I pushed out a breath. “Is there any chance he decided to get her back? Maybe kidnapped her to help convince her?”

“Hines is with someone else. Anything is possible, but it’s not very probable.”

I nodded. “What do you know about Lula’s mother killing her father?”

His gaze jerked back to mine and a flash of surprise filled his eyes. “Now, what makes you want to go into such ancient history?”