I gave her a huge grin. “That’s great!”

“I’ve always wanted a house of my own.” She shook her head, her smile fading. “I’ve lived all my life in trailers. Is it wrong to want something that can’t be carted away by a tractor trailer?”

“No, Ruth,” I said softly. “You deserve it.”

“Are you any good at decoratin’?” she asked as she returned to filling mugs.

“Yeah,” I said, “I like to decorate.”

“That’s what took me so long at Hobby Lobby the other day,” she said, beaming. “I was lookin’ at all their home décor stuff. There was so much of it.” Ruth was this badass woman who didn’t take shit from anyone, yet talking about her future home seemed to take years off her. It made me want to go out and buy her a succulent.

“Decorating a new house is fun,” I said, thinking about the condo I’d bought when I’d moved back to Dallas from the East Coast. “You should start a Pinterest board for decorating ideas.” I cringed. “Sorry. I keep forgetting how hard it is to get internet here.” I was never going to take internet or cell service for granted again.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m gonna make sure my house can get internet. They have it on the Ewing side of the mountain.”

“Good idea.”

“Ruth!” an elderly man in her section shouted across the room. “I need a refill!”

“You’re gettin’ a free drink, Oscar, so keep your pants on!” she called back. “Why don’t you start handing out the beers?” She winked. “But don’t give one to Oscar yet. We’ll make him wait.”

I cast a glance at the back room, realizing that Max hadn’t come out yet. “Is Max okay?” I asked. “Should we be worried he hasn’t come out yet?”

“He almost killed a man about eight years ago,” Ruth said, “not long after he took over the bar. Some guys got too rowdy, and someone punched Max when he was tryin’ to break it up. He kind of lost it on ’im.” From the way she shuddered, I was pretty sure she’d seen it. “The Drummonds got him off, but he swore he’d keep his temper under control. Sounds like he lost a bit of control tonight and it’s freakin’ him out.”

“It’s all my fault.” Guilt surfaced inside me, although truthfully it hadn’t been very far down. Seemed like I kept letting people down lately.

“It wasn’t just you, so don’t flatter yourself,” she said with a half-hearted grin. “Max hates guys like Dwight Henderson, so while you might have been a catalyst, he was pumped and primed to go. Now go pass out those drinks.”

I carried out the first tray and started with the corner opposite Oscar. Two guys sat close to the door in the darkest corner of the bar…in Ruth’s section. Coincidence? As I approached them, I realized I’d seen them on Monday night. They had been with Bingham’s group.

Could one or both of them have been Seth’s attackers?

There was one way to find out.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” I said with a bright smile as I stopped next to their table. “I hope you both are doing well.”

“Yeah,” said the guy with the bushy beard. “Dandy.”

Not him. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. I placed a mug in front of him.

“And what about you?” I asked the other guy as I handed him a beer. “How’s Wednesday treating you?”

He gave me a cold hard stare and didn’t answer.

“Well, all righty then,” I said. “Let us know if you need anything else.”

I finished passing out the drinks on my tray, and when I went back to the bar, I asked Ruth, “Do you know anything about those two guys in the corner?”

“Flint and Cecil? They’re Bingham’s guys.”

“Do you think they could have had something to do with Seth’s murder?”

Ruth’s eyes flew wide. “What?” She lowered her voice and moved her head closer to mine. “Did you see something that night, Carly?”

“What?” I asked, taking an unconscious step back. “No. I just wondered.” Shit. “They just don’t seem too friendly is all, and someone killed him.” I shivered. “I guess I’m imagining a killer around every corner now.”

She made a face. “Yeah. I know what you mean. Especially after Dwight’s meltdown.”

I spent the next ten minutes thinking about what Dwight had said. What had I ruined for him? Was it his dream to work in a mortuary? Doubtful. Whatever his reason for wanting that job, he was clearly pissed he’d lost it, and I worried he might take it out on Hank.

Max kept a phone on a shelf under the counter—his emergency phone in case he ever needed to quickly call the sheriff—and since Max was still holed up in his office and likely didn’t want to be disturbed, I figured this qualified as a semi-emergency. I dialed the number for Hank’s landline, which I’d saved in my cell phone contacts list.

Wyatt answered after a couple of rings.

“Wyatt, it’s Carly.”

“Is everything okay?”

I ran my hand over my head. “Um…I’m worried about Hank.”

“He’s good. I convinced him to take half a pain pill, and it knocked him right out.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said, casting a glance at the two guys in the corner. They were both watching me with an unnatural intensity. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. There was an incident at the funeral home today.”

“Why are you just now telling me this?”

“I don’t know,” I said defensively. “Maybe because I was too busy trying to get you out of your truck.”

“Okay,” he said, his abrasiveness gone. “Tell me now.”

I gave him an abbreviated version of the events, explaining what Dwight had said and done, although I glossed over the way he’d leered at me and how I had reacted. Then I filled him in on the confrontation at the bar.

He was silent for a moment after I finished. “Do you feel safe?”

“I’m worried about Hank.”

“I realize that, Carly, but I’m askin’ anyway,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Do you feel safe?”

“Yeah,” I said with a soft smile. “I feel safe.”

“Call me back if anything changes.”

To my surprise, I realized I would.

Chapter Twenty

Max stayed in his office for another hour and was subdued when he emerged. He and Ruth spoke quietly behind the bar for a few minutes, and then she gave him a hug and walked over to me.

“Tonight’s pretty slow, so Max wants me to go home. I told him that I’m your ride, but he offered to take you home instead.”

“Oh,” I said, realizing I hadn’t told her that Wyatt was picking me up, but now that I thought about it, I didn’t like the idea of Wyatt leaving Hank alone. “Yeah. You go.”

“Are you sure?” she asked with worry in her eyes. “Aren’t you freakin’ out about stayin’ with Hank?” I thought she was talking about the worry of Dwight or someone showing up at the house, a legitimate concern, but she cringed and then added, “You know, about taking care of his leg?”