It was getting dark when I drove into town and I was paranoid, constantly looking in my rearview mirror for any sign of the black truck. Those people had almost killed Wyatt. Whatever they wanted, they weren’t playing.

When I walked into the tavern, Tiny gave me a warm greeting and Ruth looked happy to see me. “I thought for sure you’d quit. Takin’ care of Hank has to be a full-time job.”

“Wyatt is going to stay with him tonight. He says he’s going to help share the responsibility.”

She gave me a look that suggested she thought my insistence was cute. “If you say so.”

“Your car is parked out back with a full tank of gas.” Which had cleaned out another sixty bucks from my bank account. Ruth’s car was a gas guzzler and had a massive tank. And of course, gas cost more up here.

“Say,” I said. “Seth’s funeral is Friday, and I don’t know how long it’s going to last. Do you think Max will be pissed if I’m late Friday afternoon? I’m sure it gets busy on the weekend.”

“Don’t you worry about Max. He’ll likely be there himself. We all will.”

“Do you know where I could get something appropriate to wear to the funeral?” I asked, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I don’t have a black dress or anything.” I wasn’t sure I’d even be welcome at the funeral, but I suspected Hank could use the support, and I knew I needed closure, or as much closure as I could get until I found out who’d killed him.

“Yeah,” she said, bright-eyed. “I’ve got a black dress you can wear. And shoes too. They might be a little big, but we can stuff tissues in the toes or something. I can bring them to you tomorrow. You still workin’ the night shift with me?”

I gave her a grateful smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Ruth.”

“Don’t think a thing about it, but we better tell Max. I know he doesn’t know about the funeral yet.”

Ruth told him, and within minutes, Max had declared that the tavern would be closed from two thirty until six on Friday so the town could attend the funeral and pay their respects. Afterward, the mourners would be welcomed back at the bar for a post-funeral celebration of life. He tasked Ruth and me with spreading the word to the customers, knowing it would shoot through the town like wildfire. He also told us to be sure to bring around the jar he’d put on the counter to collect funds to help cover Seth’s funeral expenses. I almost told him that Wyatt had covered it, but the last thing I wanted to do was stand between the two brothers. Still, I felt awkward.

The dinner shift was busy again tonight but less so than the night before. While the patrons weren’t overly friendly, they weren’t as openly hostile as they’d been.

Jerry came in early—within minutes of my arrival at the tavern. He sat in my section and ordered the Wednesday special and a coffee. I also brought him out two tiny pieces of pie, telling him they had been cut too small to serve to anyone else, when in truth, Tiny had cut a piece in half.

Jerry mumbled his thanks, refusing to meet my gaze, and I couldn’t help thinking that he was scared of me. Did he think I’d killed Seth? For some reason, that bothered me more than when I’d wondered if Max and Wyatt might suspect me.

By nine, I’d already made more tip money than the night before, and I was about to take a break when I saw Dwight stroll into the bar with a small group of friends.

“You know him?” I asked Max while standing behind the bar.

“Dwight Henderson,” Max said, keeping his gaze on the man. “Known as Dewey to his friends. He’s bad news walkin’.”

“He’s working at Mobley Funeral Home. He told Hank his daddy’s fallen ill and he got a job closer to home to take care of him.”

“You don’t say.” He turned to look at me with an amused grin. “How do you know more about this town than I do?”

I flashed him a tight smile. “Friends in low places.”

He turned serious. “You took Hank by to see Seth at the funeral home.”

“That too.” I paused, then said, “Dwight was crude with me and acted disgusting to both of us. I kicked him out of the room while Hank was paying his respects to Seth, and I may have threatened his job. His boss told Hank that he didn’t have to worry about seeing Dwight again, and now I’m worried we got him fired.” I paused. “Does he come in here very often?”

Max’s jaw hardened. “Before Monday night, I hadn’t seen that man step foot in here in over a year. So no, I don’t think the fact he’s here tonight is a coincidence.”

We both watched as he and his two friends, who looked just as seedy, sat at a table in my section.

“I’ll get Ruth to cover their table for you,” he said.

“She’s on her break.” Franklin had brought her dinner, and they were sitting in his truck out back.

Max tossed the towel on the counter and started walking to the end of the counter. “Carly, cover the bar.”

I grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. “Max. Don’t.”

He gave me a hard look. “No one comes in here and treats my staff disrespectfully.”

“He hasn’t even said anything to me yet.”

“And I aim to keep it that way,” he said, pulling free.

“Max!” I whisper-hissed, but he ignored me and sauntered over to the table.

“I’m here to see your new waitress, Drummond,” Dwight said, leaning back in his chair. “Where is she?”

“Takin’ a break. What can I get you gentlemen?”

“What you can get me,” Dwight said in a loud voice, “is your smart-mouthed new waitress. I want to give her my order.”

He sounded drunk and we hadn’t even served him a drink yet.

“Well,” Max drawled, propping his hands on his hips in a nonchalant pose. “Ruth’s definitely got a smart mouth on ’er, but I wouldn’t exactly call her new. And like I said, she’s takin’ a break, so lucky you gets me and my handsome mug instead.”

A dark smile spread across Dwight’s face. “I ain’t talkin’ about Ruth, and I ain’t talkin’ about Lula either.” He turned his gaze on me. “I’ll just wait here for your new girl to be done with her break.”

Tiny appeared in the doorway to the back. “Carly. I need you in the kitchen.”

I walked out from behind the counter, intending to go to Tiny, but something told me it would be a mistake. If I didn’t deal with him now, I’d have to deal with him later. Better to face him here, where Max and Tiny had my back, than to risk him showing up at Hank’s later.

I gave Tiny what I hoped was a reassuring look, then moved toward Dwight’s table, stopping next to Max. “What can I help you with, Dwight?”

He placed a hand on the table and leaned forward with pure evil in his eyes. “You cost me my job, and I aim to take yours.”

“Sorry,” Max said. He sounded lighthearted, but his body was humming with tension. “But I’m not currently hiring.”

“Well, there you have it,” I said, thankful my tension hadn’t leaked into my voice. “Max isn’t hiring.”

Dwight started to lunge over the table, but Max whipped out a ten-inch hunting knife from the sheath on the side of his leg and slammed it into the top of the wooden table between two of Dwight’s fingers.