“Don’t forget the clothes I left you for the funeral, on top of the lockers.”

I smiled, so grateful to have found these people. On top of that lookout, I’d mused to myself that lightning couldn’t strike twice, but it had.

I headed to the back, but not before I noticed Jerry at a table in the corner, watching me with open interest. Ignoring him, I grabbed my things out of my locker. Wyatt was waiting in the hallway to the back door, a grave expression on his face.

“I would have thought you’d look happier now that we’ve identified the killers,” I said as he ushered me out the door.

He was silent as he led me to his tow truck, opening the passenger door and shutting me in. When he got behind the wheel, he still didn’t say anything.

“You’re scaring me, Wyatt.”

That shook him from his stupor. Turning to me, he grabbed my hand and cradled it between both of his. “I’m sorry. I never want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not a afraid of you,” I said. “But it’s obvious that something’s wrong.”

He stared into my eyes, clearly wrestling with something.

“Just tell me.”

“Someone deleted the videos.”

My mouth dropped open, and it took me a moment to speak. “But we were the only ones who knew how to get into the site.”

“After I left you, I went to the shop and helped Junior with a car. Ginger told me that she and Hank were good, so I logged in to the website in my office to look at the other videos. I planned to see if Seth had anything else before I called my attorney, but they were gone.”

“What about the one we downloaded to your cloud?”

He grimaced. “It’s corrupt. I’m sorry.”

I slowly shook my head, my eyes burning. “No.”

“We need to figure out who else had access.”

I continued shaking my head. Now Seth wouldn’t get justice at all.

I’d failed him.

“Carly. Who could have done this?” he asked, snapping me out of my shock. If I’d had even a niggling suspicion that he might have done it himself, his tone would have convinced me otherwise. “Bingham?”

“No. Bingham didn’t know the numbers. He knew of them from Dwight, but he didn’t get the full code.”

“Did you tell him the numbers?”

“No,” I said, not taking offense. “I told him I didn’t remember but I thought they started with a 673.”

“You’re sure he wasn’t playin’ you?”

“I watched him play Thomas, and while he’s skilled at it, in this instance, I think we can clear him as a suspect.”

“What about Max?” Wyatt asked.

My eyes widened. “You think Max would betray me?” When he didn’t answer, some of my outrage deflated. “Your father.”

“He has deputies on his payroll. He wouldn’t want to risk that getting out.”

“It couldn’t be Max. He didn’t even know about the numbers. The only people I discussed them with are Hank, Bingham, and you.” I paused. “But Dwight Henderson had them. He burned them off Seth’s hand.”

“And he could have given them to anyone.”

“But he was killed sometime between last night and noon today. Don’t you think it’s a big coincidence that whoever accessed Seth’s page did it after we did? Why not earlier?”

Wyatt’s body tensed. “You think they got the information from Max’s computer?”

“I don’t see how,” I insisted. “I logged out of everything. I cleaned the history. There was no trace of any of it.”

“An expert could have accessed it,” Wyatt said. “Someone who knew what they were doin’. Does Max still leave his office unlocked?”

“Yeah,” I said, “but it doesn’t seem likely. How many people in this town have that kind of skill?” A new thought hit me. “Jerry.”

His eyes went wide with surprise. “Jerry Nelson? You think he’s a computer expert?” he asked in disbelief.

I’d never heard his last name before. “The guy who lives in Max’s motel?”

“That’s him. Jerry couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“That’s what I had thought too, but I feel like he’s been watching me. Since the shooting, he’s always around. He’s at the tavern while I’m working, and I saw him across the street when I left the library. Plus, Bingham knew I’d kissed you in the truck. What if Jerry has been following me for him?”

“That doesn’t explain the numbers and the website,” Wyatt said.

“What if Jerry’s reporting to someone else?” I asked.

His lips pursed. “Jerry would be the last person on any suspect list for any crime, but I’m not going to dismiss this. I think we need to do more digging.”

“Thanks.”

“Who else?”

Movement in the side mirror caught my attention, and I caught sight of Bitty hurrying out the back door toward the street. A red pickup truck was parked on the side of the street, its headlights on and a white cloud billowing from the exhaust pipe. Bitty was leaning into the open window on the passenger side.

My heart skipped a beat. The truck had a long scratch on the back side panel. It was the getaway truck from Seth’s murder.

A loud pop filled the air and Wyatt threw himself on top of me.

The squeal of tires filled my ears as I scrambled to push Wyatt off me. “That’s the truck!”

“Stay down,” he grunted, wrapping himself around me.

I strained against him and got free. “Wyatt. I’m fine!”

But the prostrate body on the sidewalk revealed that Bitty wasn’t.

And the truck was long gone.

Chapter Thirty

I was thankful Detective Daniels hadn’t been assigned to Bitty’s murder, although I had to wonder why not. I wasn’t an expert, but two murders within less than a hundred feet from one another in four days? Even I knew her murder was somehow related to Seth’s. Not that I was sharing that information with the sheriff’s deputies.

Wyatt and I gave our statements, and then Detective Marta White interviewed Tiny, Max, and Ruth to see if Bitty had any enemies.

“She wasn’t the friendliest woman in the world,” Tiny admitted. “But she didn’t have anyone who hated her enough to kill her.”

The detective nodded. “She havin’ any money trouble?”

Tiny released a scoff. “Who doesn’t around these parts?”

Max closed the tavern early, and we all sat around a table waiting for Detective White to give us permission to go home.

“Who do you think did it?” Ruth asked Max and Tiny.

Max shook his head and took a long pull of his whiskey. “Haven’t got a clue.”

But I was starting to come up with my own conclusion. One I wasn’t comfortable sharing with anyone except Wyatt.

We left an hour later, and I didn’t waste any time telling Wyatt my theory as soon as he started driving me toward Hank’s.

“What if it was Bitty?” I asked. “What if she got the website and login info?”