Taking a seat on the sofa, I started to pull out the items one by one.
The framed photos were first. I nearly set them aside, but I knew I was looking for something important, so I took the backs off the frames and looked underneath, finding nothing other than a name on the back of the girl’s photo. Cecelia.
His daughter’s name was Cecelia. I couldn’t help wondering what had happened to her, but that was just one more mystery I didn’t have time to solve. I put the frames back together, then pulled out the newspaper clippings and looked them over, trying to decide if they held any clues, but they just looked like the clippings of a lonely man.
Tears fell down my cheeks. Derek Carpenter had killed Jerry not just to motivate me but to keep him quiet, and I was determined to find out why. My mind kept skipping back to the way Emily had patted the box during our conversation. Did she know what was going on?
Next, I started to rifle through the pile of papers I hadn’t had a chance to examine before.
Medicare statements and legal paperwork. Nestled underneath them was a sheaf of old papers that looked like children’s drawings—three stick figures holding hands, and pictures of grass and trees. A drawing of a man pushing a girl on a swing. Cecelia’s artwork. Jerry had kept them all these years. He’d loved her with all his being, and I’d never known she’d even existed. I felt like I’d failed him somehow.
Beneath those was a small photo album, filled with more images of the couple and Cecelia, from when she was a small baby up until she was about five or six. And then no more. I set the album aside, all the more distraught for Jerry.
There was also an old cigar box, and when I lifted the lid, I found two wedding rings—one a man’s, the other a woman’s—an old Timex watch with a metal band, a heart-shaped locket of burnished gold with Cecelia’s name engraved on one side and a date on the other. And finally, a cell phone.
It was a new iPhone, and I had never once seen Jerry with it. Had Bart given it to him? Was it someone else’s? Seth’s or Louise’s?
I tried to turn it on, but nothing happened. The battery must have died, and there wasn’t a charger in the box. We had one down in the bar, though, under the counter. A tourist had left it behind several months ago, and we occasionally pulled it out for anyone who needed to charge their phone.
I stood, about to head downstairs, when Max’s apartment door opened. I was so sure it was Marco that I started to say that I hadn’t expected him so soon, but I stopped short, in total shock when I found myself face-to-face with Wyatt, who looked just as surprised to see me.
Chapter Thirty-One
He recovered faster than I did, his eyes darkening. “What are you doin’ up here?”
I tucked the phone into my hand, holding it against my side, where he wouldn’t see it. “I could say the same to you.”
His gaze shifted to the pile on the coffee table. “You goin’ through Max’s things?”
“Those things belong to me, thank you very much.” I tried to sound indignant, but I was terrified. Wyatt was working with Derek Carpenter, who had killed Jerry. Although I struggled to believe he’d been part of it all along, given how torn up he’d seemed at Jerry’s funeral, I could hardly ignore the evidence staring me in the face. And he sure wasn’t in a hurry to offer an explanation. I had to treat Wyatt as a danger, because based on what I’d seen, it was true.
Hank’s gun was on the coffee table next to the box. Could I get to it if I needed to?
“What’s it doin’ up here in Max’s apartment?” Wyatt demanded.
“He’s been kind enough to hold this box for me,” I said with plenty of attitude, hoping my voice didn’t shake. “You can ask him if you like. He’ll back me up.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not a liar like you.”
“When did I lie to you?” he demanded, taking several more steps into the room.
Why had I gone down that particular path? I had no plans to tell him what I knew.
“Forget it,” I said, turning back to the box and stuffing everything back inside. The phone, I tucked into my jeans pocket. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“What were you doin’ behind my shop this mornin’?”
“Nothin’.”
“Don’t lie to me, Carly!” he shouted.
I startled, his anger catching me off guard, but then I wasn’t sure why. He’d been pissed enough to strong-arm me a couple of days ago. I finished gathering up the items and closed the box lid. “It’s none of your business.”
“It became my business the moment you started snoopin’ on me!”
“What’s goin’ on?” Max called out as he walked into the living room, wearing a pair of pajama pants and no shirt, sporting a serious case of bed head. He did a double take when he saw the both of us. “What are you two doin’ here?”
“I was just getting my box,” I said, purposely leaving Jerry’s and Emily’s names out of it. Hopefully, Max would take the hint. I picked up the box, trying to hide my gun from Wyatt on the side of it, but Max’s eyes widened slightly when he saw it.
“Okay,” he said, sounding confused, then scrutinized his brother. “What about you?”
“I needed to talk to you about something, but now seems like a bad time.”
Max cast a worried glance in my direction. “Yeah, maybe you should come back later.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I got what I came for, and now I’m leaving.”
The worry lines on Max’s forehead deepened, but he didn’t say anything as I bolted for the exit.
Wyatt was the one who stepped between me and the door, blocking my path. “Where’s your car?”
I stopped in my tracks. “What?”
“You were ridin’ with Hank, but his car’s not out back. Where’s yours?”
“Since when do you give a shit about my car?” I asked, my anger igniting. “Hank had to practically threaten you before you’d tell me how to spot if it had been sabotaged.”
“Whoa!” Max said, holding up both hands. “What happened to your car?”
“Nothing. Yet,” I said, keeping my gaze pinned on Wyatt. “But that seems to be my father’s modus operandi for getting rid of people. He’s killed at least three people that way, likely more, so I figured I should be prepared.”
“You didn’t want to help her?” Max asked in disbelief.
“That’s not how it was,” Wyatt grunted, looking pissed.
I tried to get around him, but he blocked my path again. “Where did you and Hank go after you left my shop?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I snapped. “I don’t answer to you.”
“You need to let this go, Carly,” Wyatt said, anger flashing in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re gettin’ messed up in.”
Like a fool, I taunted, “Oh, I know more than you think I do.”
I tried to get around him again, but he took a step back and blocked the door.
“What the hell is goin’ on, Wyatt?” Max asked in a combination of anger and exasperation.