His brow lifted. “I notice you didn’t say you would leave.”
“That’s because leaving might actually be more dangerous than staying. And there’s no use borrowing trouble before it happens.” But I couldn’t help thinking I’d royally screwed up with that email. “So you said your piece, he said his, and then you left?”
“Pretty much.”
“He talked to Hank last night after he left the tavern,” I said. “He tried to convince him to push me to leave town, but Hank pretty much told him to go to hell. He said he was glad his friends hadn’t shown up yet because Wyatt was talking a little too freely about my situation.”
“So Wyatt’s gettin’ careless.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, but I don’t want to give Wyatt any more of my headspace. Let’s go back to Bruce Abernathy. Did he have a record?”
“Nothing big popped up, but he didn’t exactly live on the straight and narrow. A DUI, some minor pot possession charges. A drunk and disorderly. A few smaller burglary charges.”
“Did you find out anything about his family?” I asked.
“Only that he was married to a woman named Michelle. If Georgia’s willin’ to talk to you, she might be able to tell you more.”
I cocked my head. “You said was married.”
He made a face. “I guess it was my turn to bury the lede. Bruce Abernathy committed suicide in jail after his fight with Bingham.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Yep. He’d had his arraignment. Inexplicably, his bail was set ridiculously high, and was never posted and he hung himself the next day.”
He took another bite of his sandwich, then chewed for a few moments before he said, “I pulled what we had on Hank too.”
My stomach dropped. “That was smart.”
“There’s not much. His record is pretty squeaky clean for someone who’s known to have trafficked drugs.”
“Well, he had his own deal with the sheriff’s department. He’s open about that.”
“Yeah. We’d need to speak to some of his old crew to figure out the extent of the protection.” He gave me a pointed look. “They won’t talk to me.”
“But they might to me,” I said. “They know Hank trusts me, and he doesn’t trust lightly.” It hadn’t mattered much to Big Joe, but hopefully he was the exception.
“Agreed on both counts,” Marco said, “but tread lightly, okay? They’ll want to know what you’re up to. Do you want Hank to find out you’re diggin’ into his past?”
“No. He’s made it very clear that he wants me to stay out of anything associated with his former business. I’d rather avoid going directly to his friends.” Georgia might count as one of his friends, if her husband was Big Joe, but given that she was one of my best leads, I’d take the chance. “I plan to drop by the church and see if Georgia’s around. Maybe she’ll agree to go have coffee with me.”
“Okay,” he said, finishing the last bite of his sandwich and stuffing the paper wrapper into the bag from the restaurant. He unscrewed his water and took a long drink. I couldn’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and I started to feel a little overheated.
I needed to focus on our case, not drool over my sexy boyfriend.
“I’ll figure out what to do after I talk to Georgia,” I said. “If I had Michelle Abernathy’s address or phone number, I could try to contact her too.”
Hint, hint.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. Turning toward me, his face inches from mine, he slowly tucked it into my jeans pocket, his fingers sending shivers from my thigh throughout my body.
“That’s an interesting way of handin’ it over,” I said, slightly breathless.
“It’s a lot more fun than just puttin’ it in your hand.”
I smiled.
He closed the distance between us and kissed me, gentle at first, then more urgent. We were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.
Groaning, he sat back and pulled it out, answering, “Deputy Marco Roland.” He was quiet as he listened, then frowned. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.”
He hung up and gave me an apologetic look. “Remember that kid I mentioned last night? His mom was involved in a domestic violence situation, and he was part of it.”
“He hit his mom?” I asked in horror.
“No. More like he was defending her. But he’s askin’ for me, and I’m tryin’ to build his trust so—”
“Go,” I insisted. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“I know, but I was hopin’ to spend more time with you.”
“I’ll head over to the church. I’ll let you know what I find out, if anything.”
“Okay,” he said, looking reluctant.
I captured his face in my hands, giving him a kiss, but he took control, leaving me wanting so much more than we had time for, particularly in a public park.
I pulled back, breathless and overcome with emotion. Although I’d been in plenty of relationships before Jake, none of the other men I’d been with had made me feel like this. So full of longing. So intensely infatuated. But I couldn’t let it turn my head. “I love that you want to help that boy. That you want to make a difference.”
“Pot meet kettle,” he said with a laugh, then kissed me again, this time more chaste. “Be safe.”
“You too,” I said, darting a glance at his leg.
“I’m fine. Nothing a warm shower, a long walk, and your talented hands and lips couldn’t fix.”
I flushed.
He gave me an expectant look, and I realized he thought I was leaving too.
“I’m going to sit here for a bit, organize what we learned in my notebook. I’ll send you texts while I’m still in Ewing so you know what I’m up to.”
“Okay.” He walked toward his Explorer, starting off with a noticeable limp that seemed to work itself out by the time he got in. He gave me a wave as he took off, and I watched him drive away, worry burrowing into my gut.
Something bad was coming our way. I could feel it. But then, when you courted evil, you shouldn’t be surprised when the devil showed up at your front door.
Chapter Thirteen
After I jotted down everything Marco had said, I dug the slip of paper out of my pocket. Michelle’s name, address and phone number were written on it in his neat handwriting.
I briefly considered how much trouble he could get in for having given it to me. But I didn’t need to act on it yet. I’d try Georgia first, and if I didn’t get anywhere with her, then I could decide whether using Marco’s information was worth the risk.
It was nearly one, which meant I had plenty of time to stop by the Baptist church and see if Georgia was available. If she wasn’t, I could always head back to the library and look up books on Drum as well as do some digging into Bruce Abernathy.
I gathered up my trash and tossed it before getting into my car. The church was only a few miles away, and I rehearsed what I planned to say. “Hi, I’m Carly and your sister-in-law just told me she stole your husband’s ex-boss’s fortune. Want to chat?”