For decades, he’d ruled the area with a favor system—people went to him requesting favors, and they would then have to agree to do an unidentified favor for him at a later date in return, no questions asked. Rumor had it that Bart requested a wide variety of favors, from getting weekly deliveries of fresh tomatoes from a person’s garden to murder. Refusing would come with dire consequences.
But that was all I had: rumors. Though there were a lot of them, and I believed in the saying “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
I was determined to find the burning embers.
Since last December, I’d been researching every seemingly motiveless murder or crime that had been recorded in the area over the past two decades. I had a notebook full of them, and I was the first to admit that most of what I’d found probably amounted to nothing. People did horrible things and often for absolutely no acceptable reason. But a few of the leads I’d found seemed promising. Which was why I’d decided to start asking questions of the people involved. Marco had been worried that Bart would get wind of what I was doing and come after me or the people I cared about.
He’d been right to worry.
The morning of Jerry’s murder, a man had shown up at Marco’s house after he left for work. At the time of his break-in, I was in the shower, and when I smelled smoke and heard a noise in the kitchen, I came running out—only to find a middle-aged man sitting at Marco’s kitchen table, smoking a cigarette. He’d told me to “let this go” or someone I cared about would find themselves in an accident. Like a fool, I’d mouthed off, telling him to inform his boss that I’d do whatever I damn well felt like.
Less than twelve hours later, Jerry had been run off the road.
I still didn’t know who had sent that man to Marco’s place but I felt fairly sure he was wrapped up in Bart and Emily Drummond’s orbit. Because it had become clear to me that Emily knew more than she’d let on. She’d called me Caroline, for one thing, and for another, she’d told me that Todd Bingham had information that could put her husband away.
I didn’t trust Emily much more than I did Bart, but I’d approached Bingham anyway. He’d agreed to meet with me, only I’d bailed on our meeting out of worry that the intruder with the cigarette had done something to Marco. Although I didn’t know it at the time, Marco had been late getting to the tavern because he’d discovered Jerry after the accident.
Bingham had warned me that he wouldn’t talk if I ran out on him, and apparently he’d meant it, because he still refused to respond to my messages. Learning about Jerry hadn’t softened him.
The murder of my friend suggested that I was on the right track with my research, but it also had raised the stakes to the point where I didn’t feel comfortable taking a direct approach and talking to the people in my notebook. I felt like I was at an impasse. Still, Carnita didn’t know any of that. She thought I’d started researching the town out of curiosity.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to research,” I said with a frown. “The internet only goes back so far.”
“Do you want to pull out the microfiche again?” she asked. I’d examined old newspaper articles before, especially when I didn’t have computer time reserved.
“Maybe,” I said, although going through microfiche was beyond tedious. If I performed searches on the internet, I could at least rule out many of the results.
“Tell me what you’re looking for,” she said, “and maybe I can help narrow it down.”
“I’ve scoured recent history on Drum,” I said, “or at least the past twenty-five to thirty years. Do you have anything that could help me learn about the older history of the town? Especially how it was founded. I find that kind of thing fascinating.” Digging into the founding of the town was a long shot, but I knew the Drummonds had played a pivotal role, which meant I might find something useful.
Her brow shot up. “I do . . . I have a couple of books, but Lula Baker checked them out last week.” She cringed. “I guess it’s Lula Bingham now. I keep forgettin’.”
I stared at her in surprise. Last week, Carnita had told me that Lula and Bingham were researching their family trees, which had seemed odd, but now this?
“Huh,” I said, putting a hand on my hip. “Todd and Lula don’t seem like history buffs to me.”
“Color me surprised as well,” she said. “Gives me hope for the rest of the town. I think it was the first time either of them had checked out a book since they were in school.” She tilted her head forward. “Lula’s checked out plenty of DVDs, mind you, but no books.”
I wondered how she’d watched those DVDs, considering she’d been living in a one-room shack with no electricity or running water before she moved in with Bingham, but who was I to ask?
“That is promising,” I conceded. “Maybe Lula would be up for joining my book club.” I’d been trying in vain to get one started. Turned out the people of Drum weren’t big on reading, but Carnita and I were hoping to change that.
Her face brightened. “Oh. That is a good idea.”
The door opened behind me, and her gaze lifted over my shoulder before dropping back to my face with a knowing smile. Then she turned her happiness on the patron behind me. “I can’t remember the last time you stepped foot into the library, Marco Roland, and in your sheriff’s uniform too. Don’t you look handsome?”
I turned in surprise. While Marco knew my library schedule, he’d never once come in while I was working. Besides, his shift had only started at three. What was he doing here?
Something was wrong, and from the look on his face, it was important.
My stomach roiled.
“Hey, Carnita,” he said with a smile that seemed slightly forced. “I’m not avoiding you, so don’t take it personally.”
She laughed. “Oh, I know. It’s the books you’re avoidin’, but I’m smart enough to realize you’re not here to see me now either. I take it you’re here for Carly.”
“Guilty as charged,” he said, his gaze landing on me. “How do you feel about takin’ a short walk?”
“Uh . . . okay,” I said hesitantly, not because I didn’t want to go with him, but because I was worried about why he’d come looking for me.
“She’ll be back,” Marco said, “so don’t be givin’ her spot away.”
“I’ll hold on to it,” she said with a wave. “I just love young love. You two enjoy your walk.”
Word had spread that we were together. It was like someone had taken out a billboard announcing our relationship, although gossip about us dancing together at the tavern’s outdoor party last week was the more likely cause. No matter how they’d found out, the townsfolk of Drum were already far too invested in our relationship.
I followed him out the door and he snagged my hand. “Why don’t we go sit by the old mill, next to the river?”
I stared up at him, my anxiety brewing. He wanted privacy for this discussion.
He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss. “It’s okay, Carly. But it is important.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
He started walking, and I fell in step with him, dying to ask him what was going on, but there were people on the sidewalk who might overhear.