“This woman held Seth’s hand as he died,” Hank said. “This woman has stepped up to help me more than anyone else in this damn town.”

“Maybe people would be more willin’ to step up if you didn’t treat ’em like shit,” one of the other men said.

Bingham shot him a dark look, but when he turned back to Hank, he said, “Gates has got a good point. You turned this town against you after Barb died.”

Hank remained silent, his entire body tense.

“I claim Carly Moore as kin,” Hank said. “You recognize and honor that, and I’ll let you take that body and clean up the mess.”

Bingham released a harsh laugh. “I ain’t your cleanup crew, Chalmers.”

“Either agree to my terms or get the hell off my land,” Hank said. “And I’ll bury that body and his identity with him.”

Bingham scrubbed his face. “It’s late, old man. I don’t feel like dickin’ around.”

“And neither do I. Either agree to my terms or leave,” Hank said. “Those are your options. You have ten seconds to make up your mind.”

Several seconds ticked by before Bingham said, “Fine, I’ll leave her be, but I want to talk to her.”

“No,” Hank barked.

“I just want to talk to her, old man,” he said in frustration. “You would have done the same durin’ your time.” Then he shrugged and added, “How about this? We’ll have the meetin’ in public. Lots of witnesses.”

“And what if you don’t like what I have to say? Maybe I have some questions of my own,” I called out as I got to my feet.

Hank didn’t respond, but Bingham released a laugh. “So she speaks after all.”

“You know damn good and well that I speak,” I snapped. “We’ve met before.”

Hank shot me a quick glance.

“That we have,” Bingham said. “Although I’ve come to realize I was under the wrong impression about your identity.”

“And just who did you think I was?” I asked, hoping he’d let slip something I didn’t already know.

Bingham was silent for a moment, then laughed again. “You’re something else, woman.” He shifted his attention to Hank. “Is this part of your agreement? Answerin’ her questions?”

“She’s in the middle of this, Bingham,” Hank said. “She’s entitled to ask.”

Rubbing rubbed his chin, Bingham seemed to consider it then said, “Here’s what I’ll do. I want ten minutes with the woman—she gets to ask her questions and I’ll ask mine. Once the ten minutes are up, I’ll honor the terms.”

“Shouldn’t you address me with that part of the deal?” I said. “And how do I know you’ll answer my questions?”

“How do I know you’ll answer mine?” he retorted.

He had a point.

Hank shot me a long look. “Up to you, girl.”

The thought of being interrogated by Bingham for ten minutes scared the shit out of me, but I wanted answers. The real question was whether it would be a waste of time.

“I need a moment to decide,” I said.

“Take your time.” Sounding amused, he added, “I’ll be more generous with my time than your new kin was with his.”

I sat back down and turned to the elderly man next to me while keeping the outlaw in my peripheral vision.

“Hank?” I whispered.

“There’s pros and cons to this,” Hank said under his breath. “The remaining murderers will see you talkin’ to ’im, and they might think you’re teamin’ up with ’im.”

“Which is likely what he wants,” I said.

He gave me a slight nod. “Exactly. But they might not send a second guy if they think you’re under Bingham’s protection.”

“Or I might draw their wrath.”

“That too.” A wobbly smile tilted the corners of his mouth, but I could see the exhaustion beyond it. This had been too much for him, though he’d never admit it.

“But we might draw them out,” I said. “Next time we’ll be ready for them.”

He nodded slowly. “Next time we will.”

I stood and faced Bingham. “I’ll agree to your terms.”

He held his hands wide. “Now we’re talkin’.”

“But I have one more requirement of my own to add.”

Bingham laughed in what appeared to be genuine amusement. “Go on.”

“You will reimburse Wyatt Drummond for all expenses incurred from his accident.”

“Now, hold on,” Bingham protested.

“And in exchange, I guarantee that I will give you one piece of information the sheriff doesn’t know.”

“What is it?” he asked.

I dialed up the attitude. “If I told you now, then we wouldn’t need an agreement, would we?”

Bingham turned to Hank. “Now I see why you like ’er. She’s got backbone.”

Hank remained silent.

Bingham’s shoulders lifted as he gave me his full attention for five long seconds. Sweat broke out at the base of my spine, and I was sure he was just going to shoot Hank and take me off to get his answers however he saw fit. But then his body relaxed. “Okay. You’ve piqued my interest. You’ve got your deal, Ms. Moore, and so do you, Chalmers. Let’s hope neither one of you make me regret it.”

I was already having regrets.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Bingham strode up to the dead guy, crouched over, and jerked off his ski mask before letting the head flop back down onto the ground.

“Know ’im?” Hank asked.

Bingham laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You didn’t check?”

“Nope. Decided to let you unwrap your present.”

Bingham stared up at me. He was closer now and the porch light revealed the features the darkness had hid before. Despite his wry grin, I could see that he was a hard man whose answer to problems typically involved violence.

“Ms. Moore,” he said. “Would you like to take a look at him?”

I shot Hank a questioning look and he shrugged.

“I want to see if I’ve served him before,” I said. “I know you’ve sent men to watch me. I want to see if anyone else has done the same.”

Bingham didn’t deny sending someone to watch me, not that I expected him to.

I walked past Hank and down the two steps, walking around the body to look down at his face.

“Well?” Bingham asked.

“There’s not enough light.”

“Gates,” Bingham called out, and within seconds, one of his men was shining a flashlight on the man’s face.

I froze. I’d seen him all right. He’d been at the bar tonight. Ruth had told me that he and his buddy were Bingham’s men. His friend had answered my questions, but this guy had refused to answer me. Had he known that I’d heard him talking with the others in the parking lot?

Had Bingham sent both men to watch me, unaware Cecil was a traitor? Or had the two guys at the bar been working together apart from Bingham? I wasn’t sure, but I suspected that if Bingham hadn’t known they’d been at the bar tonight, he’d assume the friend was a traitor too. I didn’t like the idea of condemning an innocent man.