“So Max quit college to come home and run the tavern? What was his major?”
She shrugged. “I forget. Something to do with business, but Bart told Max he’d teach him everything he needed to know about business. Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s not, but Max never went back.”
“How old was he?” I asked, wondering what kind of relationship Max had with his father. I knew what it was like to have a manipulative father, one who bent and twisted you to suit his own wishes. Did he regret coming back all those years ago?
She released a small chuckle. “Just turned twenty-one. Barely legal to drink in his own establishment. But this happened before they moved the entrance to Balder Mountain. Back when we put up and fed a bunch of the tourists. Max made good money before the big move. Drum’s a whole lot quieter now.”
Last night had been nothing but locals, which made me wonder who had been staying in the other motel units besides Jerry and Big Joe. Maybe it really was a by-the-hour kind of place. The elderly man had mentioned a prostitute, after all. Then a new thought hit me. “Did you work for Wyatt?”
She hesitated. “Yep.”
“How long?”
“A couple of years before his arrest. Max took over before the case went to trial.”
Something about the way she was acting made me ask, “Did you and Wyatt used to date?”
She hesitated again. “Yeah, but not for long, and only while he was on a break from Heather.”
“Was Heather the woman his family paid to leave town?”
“That’s the one. Bart and Emily never approved of Heather, and they were glad to help speed her way along.”
I had more questions, but I felt weird asking them, especially since I felt a twinge of something that felt a lot like jealousy.
What the hell was that about?
Sure, Wyatt had been nice and respectful up at the lookout, but that had changed before we hit the town limits. I had never been a woman foolish or masochistic enough to fall for a man who wasn’t crazy about me.
That’s not true, a little voice said in my head. You believed Jake.
Jake didn’t count. He had lied through his teeth, weaving together a story about the life we’d led together, the partnership we’d build. I’d believed him, but all along he’d been courting my father, not me.
Chapter Ten
Thankfully, Ruth didn’t pick up on my thoughts. We ate our breakfast sandwiches and drank our coffee as she told me about her life in Drum.
Although I tried to keep the conversation on her as much as possible, she asked me plenty of questions too. Which meant I had to lie. I told her I’d grown up in Michigan and followed a man to Atlanta. I’d worked retail and some waitressing in the beginning between my own men to help with rent. I hated to consider how Ruth would feel if she ever found out the truth, but if she did, hopefully she’d know I’d lied out of necessity. Each lie about my past not only killed part of my soul but killed off the person I’d been piece by piece.
She drove into Greeneville and headed straight for the hospital. As soon as it came into view, I started to regret eating that breakfast sandwich. Ruth had kept me busy talking, which had kept me from thinking too much about the reason I’d come to Greeneville—I was here to see Hank Chalmers and shatter what was left of his heart.
“You okay?” she asked, worry in her eyes.
I swallowed. “No, but that won’t stop me.”
She gave me a warm smile. “I guessed that about you.” She turned into the parking lot. “Do you want me to come in to help?”
The thought of doing this alone terrified me, but I didn’t want anyone else to hear what I had to say, and it would have been rude to invite her in only to ask her to leave. “I’ll manage.”
“You got cell service here?” she asked, pulling up to the circle drive in front of the entrance.
How had I forgotten about that? I snatched up my purse and dug out my cell phone, my heart jumping when I saw four bars of service. “Yes!”
She chuckled. “Bet you’ve taken cell phone service for granted up to now, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“Take my number so you can call or text when you’re done,” she said. “I have some errands to run, but I’ll come get you as soon as I can.”
“No worries,” I said. “I can wait for you in the cafeteria or the lobby. I’m grateful you went out of your way to bring me.”
“Don’t think a thing about it.”
She told me her phone number, and I sent her a text to make sure I’d gotten it right.
“Got it!” she said, then turned somber. “I feel it’s only fair to warn you that Hank is known for being a cranky bastard.”
Great. I could only imagine how well he’d take this news. But I’d made a promise and I intended to see it through. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Tell him that Franklin and I are so sorry about Seth, and that we’ll do anything we can to help.”
A lump formed in my throat and I nodded, croaking out a “yeah” as I climbed out of the car.
Ruth drove off as I approached the information desk in the lobby, trying to pull myself together. It struck me that I’d been so worried about getting here, I hadn’t thought enough about how Mr. Chalmers would react. Would he want to talk to me? Would he be upset that I’d withheld information from the sheriff?
There was only one way to find out.
The elderly woman at the front desk looked up Hank Chalmers’ room number, then told me how to get there. Stalling, I considered getting flowers or something from the gift shop, but it felt wrong. There was something disrespectful about handing him a smiley face mug with daisies and then saying, “Oh, by the way, I saw the men who shot your grandson and held his hand while he died.”
No. The only thing I could give him was the truth about what had really happened to Seth. I suspected it was the only thing that really mattered.
I got on the elevator and pushed the button to his floor. When it opened, a brown-haired man in a dress shirt and jeans bumped into me. I nearly called him out for his rudeness, but his hard brown eyes stopped me. He looked to be in his mid-thirties—definitely old enough to have manners—but I didn’t feel like saying so. At the moment, I didn’t have enough gumption to hold my own if he put up an argument.
I headed down the hall, and when I reached Hank’s room, I stood outside his door and took slow, deep breaths to calm down. I was scared to death and second-guessing every decision I’d made in the past twenty-four hours, but I was here. There was no backing down now.
Before I could change my mind, I knocked on the door. “Hello?” I called through the partially open doorway. “Mr. Chalmers?”
“I told you I ain’t got nothin’ to say,” a man called out.
I pushed it open anyway and walked in. An elderly man sat in the bed, the back upright. He was hooked up to several machines with wires attached to his chest and tubes in his arms, and a hospital tray was placed across his bed as well as a tray of barely touched food.
He waved his hand in dismissal and turned from me. “I’m not feelin’ up to physical therapy today. Just talk to Nurse Patty. She said it was okay.”