“One and the same,” Bingham said, and I could see the wheels in his head spinning as he tried to make this puzzle piece fit.

But I didn’t need to take any time. “Deputy Spigot killed George Davis.”

He’d killed George, although not because he was bashing downtown Drum. He’d killed him to keep him quiet. To cover up his own involvement in the drug enterprise.

Had someone picked up the casings at George Davis’s murder scene and planted them at Seth’s? Or did they have access to Deputy Spigot’s gun? One of Bingham’s men? Was it the person who’d taken my gun and key fob?

Thomas tried to sit still, but nervous energy rolled off him.

“Someone planted those casings,” Bingham said. He pinned Thomas with a hard gaze. “Any idea who might have done that?”

A sheen of sweat broke out on Thomas’s forehead. “Some of the casings were missing from the scene of Davis’s murder. No one ever knew what happened to them.”

The quirk of Bingham’s brow suggested this wasn’t new information. He was prodding Thomas to release it for my benefit…and likely to make his newly revealed traitor squirm.

It was working.

“I bet Spigot’s shittin’ his pants,” Bingham said with a grin. He was loving every minute of this.

My horror grew, and it took everything in me to stay in my seat, knowing what Bingham had in store for the man next to me.

“Yeah,” Thomas conceded.

Bingham nodded. “That’ll be all.”

Thomas got up and shot toward the front door.

“So?” Bingham asked with a satisfied grin. “Still worried about your imminent arrest?”

“That doesn’t clear me,” I said.

“But it seems highly unlikely a woman who had never been to Drum before would have the casings from the gun of a Hensen County sheriff’s deputy.” A frown crossed his face. “And as loath as I am to admit it, Bart Drummond didn’t play a part in this.” He tilted his head toward me. “He doesn’t have Detective Daniels in his pocket.” A grin spread across his face.

I felt like an idiot. “You do.”

He’d used Daniels to pressure me to talk. And he’d pretended he was connected to Bart Drummond to make me feel helpless.

His grin spread and he looked ready to spring up from his seat. “Me, own a sheriff’s deputy?” He laughed. “That, my dear, would be illegal.” His smile faded, but he didn’t look as intimidating as before. There was a hint of kindness in his gaze that caught me by surprise. “You have my word that you’re safe from the sheriff’s department.”

“And you’ll take care of the others?” I felt nauseated.

He snorted. “Thomas is already halfway out of the county.”

“What?”

He leaned forward until our faces were about a foot apart. “Too many dead bodies poppin’ up begins to look suspicious. I’ll let him run. Spigot too. And trust me, they’ll run.”

“Why do I have trouble thinking you’ll just let them go? Seems like you’d want to make an example of them.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes you need to know when to cut your losses.” His eyes took on an almost wistful look. “And sometimes you need to know when to bide your time.”

He stood and extended his hand to me.

I slowly rose, not trusting him, but I took his hand anyway.

He had a firm grasp on my hand as he shook. “Ms. Moore. It’s been a pleasure doin’ business with you.”

Then he winked as he released my hand and strode out the door, his two men hot on his heels.

Bingham had insinuated this was over, but how would he feel when I released Seth’s videos to the state police? Because justice may have been served in his eyes, but I had to disagree.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I headed back to the bar, where Max and Ruth stood staring at me, but just before I made it, Wyatt burst through the back door like his pants were on fire. He bolted to me and grabbed my upper arms, scanning me up and down for signs of injury.

“I’m fine,” I said as I jerked free. “Really Max?” I asked in a withering tone. “You called Wyatt?”

He didn’t look apologetic. “I didn’t know if we’d need backup.”

“I handled it on my own. I’m fine.” I knew none of this was his fault, but I was still shaken up. It was time to come clean with some of what I knew. “Bingham knows who murdered Seth,” I said, my adrenaline crashing. “Thomas—the guy who came in and left—was one of them. Cecil Purdy was another. Deputy Spigot pulled the trigger, and it looks like Dwight Henderson probably drove the getaway truck.”

Max’s eyes about bugged out of his head. “Bingham told you all of that?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I helped him puzzle it out.”

I still felt sick over that.

“What about the bullet casings they found on the ground?” Max asked.

“They came from Deputy Spigot’s gun. The one that killed George Davis.”

“Barb’s boyfriend?” Wyatt asked in surprise.

I nodded.

“Spigot was stupid enough to leave behind bullet casings tying him to Seth’s murder?” Max asked in disgust.

I didn’t correct him and tell him it was a different gun. I probably shouldn’t have told them so much, but I was so sick of secrets and lies.

“What about Daniels?” Max asked. “He’s still after you.”

“Bingham said he’d take care of it.”

“And how’s that?” Wyatt asked skeptically.

I gave him a knowing look, and his lips pursed as understanding filled his eyes.

“So it’s over?” Ruth asked.

“Yeah,” I said, even though I still had to turn the videos over to the state police. “It’s over.”

We were silent for a long moment, all of us feeling the gravity of the situation.

“Carly,” Max said in a tone that brooked refusal. “Go home.”

My mouth dropped open in my dismay. “You’re firing me?”

“What?” he said. “No! I just think it would be better to go home and get some rest. Stay with Hank tomorrow, and I’ll see you at the funeral. You can work tomorrow night.”

I nodded and tears stung my eyes. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch about calling Wyatt. You were just looking out for me, and I bit your head off.”

“Hey,” Max said with a smile. “We’re good. I know you’re not really mad at me. You’re just upset over all of it.”

“Thank you, Max. For everything,” I said as I gave him a hug.

“I meant what I said the other night,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re one of us. I hope you’ll stick around.” Then he gave me a tight smile and headed out to the tables to slap hands with his customers.

Ruth had hung back, watching us, but I reached for her and gave her a hug too. “Thank you.”

“I would have fought the bastard if he’d tried to take you out of here,” she said.

I laughed. “I know, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”