I hoped they weren’t after me. I hoped they’d only run him off because he’d aggravated him, but something more pressing grabbed my attention. How had he figured out my gun had been stolen? Had he taken it after all?
“You know that I lost my weapons?”
“Your scissors?” he said, but Wyatt was an observant man. He knew I was talking about something else, and no doubt he’d noticed my gun wasn’t in my purse.
“Yeah. My scissors.”
“But I didn’t see your gun, and I know it’s not on you. Where is it?”
“I never said I had a gun.” He went stone-faced and silent, his expression completely unreadable. Switching tactics, I decided to change the subject and try to gather more information, I asked, “What do you know about Barb’s death?”
“Hank’s daughter? Why are you askin’ about her?”
“Because Hank mentioned it,” I said. “I thought it might be good to know what happened.”
He frowned.
“He already told me that she and her boyfriend died the same night. She overdosed, and he was shot by a sheriff’s deputy after causing some chaos while he was high.”
“That’s the general story.”
“Hank says they both took some drug from Atlanta.”
“I’ve heard that too.”
“That can’t be a coincidence. Seth must have found out and somehow caught the attention of those guys.”
He studied me. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you have anything to add to that?”
“Nope.”
“Seriously?”
He shifted in his seat and groaned. “Leave it alone, Carly. Ride this out until the sheriff clears you, and then I’ll get you a car so you can get on your way.”
“Yeah,” I said, “because I get the feeling you’re going to let the whole getting-run-off-the-road thing go. Shouldn’t we be worried that someone just tried to kill you?”
“No,” he said with a serious expression, looking me square in the eyes. “It was a couple of hotheads who thought I was followin’ them too close. I’m lettin’ it go.”
“Well, good for you. You’re a bigger person than me. How are you going to get your truck out of that ravine?”
“I’ll have to hire someone in Ewing to help. My rig won’t be able to cut it.” He reached for the door handle. “I’ll go sit with Hank tonight, then pick you up when your shift is over.” He paused. “I know Ruth can drop you off, but until they arrest Seth’s murderer, it might be a good idea if I’m with you at night.”
“Why would you care?” I asked.
“Why’d you help me out of my truck?” He smiled, although there was a tinge of sadness to it. “Same reason.”
Chapter Nineteen
I hadn’t been in many Dollar General stores before, but I didn’t remember many of them having mini grocery stores inside. This one did. I got the items Hank had requested and looked around for some fresh fruits and vegetables. I knew Hank would likely pitch a fit, but I’d hoped to find a way to convince him. I didn’t know much about diabetes, but I knew his diet of mostly processed foods couldn’t be good for him. So I made do with the few options they had—some small, bruised apples, almost too ripe bananas, some yellow onions, and a bag of baby carrots. Hank had asked for Coke, but I also got him some milk and orange juice, as well as some real cheese, but I stopped at picking up wheat bread instead of white. I was already about to send him over the edge. I also got some hamburger and frozen chicken breasts and some other ingredients to make several real meals. It cost me over 10% of what was in my bank account, but I couldn’t really complain. He was giving me a place to stay. Providing him with groceries was the least I could do.
When I got back to his house, I made quick work of bringing in the bags and putting the food away before I found my spare pair of jeans and put my dirty ones in the laundry room.
“Did you get my Coke?” he called out from his chair.
“Yes.”
“Did you find Wyatt?”
I was thankful he was in the other room because I stopped what I was doing and tried to figure out what to tell him. Less was best, I decided. “Yep. I found him.”
“Did he get a license plate number?”
“He says he didn’t.”
I heard him push out a sigh. “Probably for the best.”
I scrubbed the rest of the bathroom, then helped Hank in to use the toilet.
“Why’d you go and clean it all up?” he asked in bewilderment. “It’s just gonna get messy again.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
I needed to be at the tavern by five, so I made an early dinner consisting of spaghetti and a homemade sauce I threw together with some hamburger, crushed tomatoes, garlic powder, and some of the yellow onion and basil and oregano. I made a list of more spices to get the next time I was at the store. Hank seemed pretty content in his chair, so I had him check his blood sugar and brought his bottle of insulin from the fridge.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked, watching him inject his stomach.
“Not anymore,” he said, handing me the syringe. “Don’t throw that away. I’ll reuse it.”
My eyes about popped out of my head. “Excuse me? Isn’t that how people get HIV and Hep C?”
“I ain’t gonna give a disease to myself,” he grumped, lowering his shirt over his stomach. “Just put it on the counter and I’ll take care of it later. Now where’s my food?”
“Aren’t you supposed to wait fifteen minutes?”
“Are you Nurse Patty now?” he asked with a frown.
“No, I’m Chef Carly, and since I control the food, I say you’ll wait.” I cast a glance to the clock on the wall and took note of the time. 4:13. At 4:18, I handed him his plate. He was in a foul mood when I handed it to him, but it quickly changed after a couple of bites.
Still, I couldn’t help thinking this meal probably wasn’t good for him either. I’d figure out a way to learn more about a proper diet for diabetics at the library tomorrow. Among other things.
“I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge in case you get hungry later,” I said after he finished. I’d been cleaning the kitchen in between taking bites of my own food. “Wyatt said he’d come check on you after he gets done at the garage, so he can fix you a plate.” Then I added, “There’s enough for him to have some too.”
“It’s so damn good he’ll eat it all,” he complained.
I laughed. “Then I’ll make you more.”
I’d barely had a chance to do any sleuthing in Seth’s room, let alone the hours I needed to clean it up to make it habitable. Wyatt had carried my suitcase in earlier and set it inside the door, where it now lay on the floor. Although the clothes inside were a bit askew from my quick search for jeans, it was still the neatest part of the room.
Maybe I’d just sleep on the sofa tonight. It might be better to sleep closer to Hank anyway.
I gave Hank another dose of ibuprofen and left Wyatt a note on the kitchen table telling him I couldn’t convince Hank to take his pain medication but maybe he could. Then I grabbed my jacket and told Hank I’d be back after midnight.