I plopped back into the chair and quickly pulled up the page. When the sign-in screen appeared, I glanced up at Wyatt.

“[email protected],” he said.

“His email address?” I asked. Of course it was.

“Not his main one. Most people don’t know about this one. It stands to reason that’s what he’d use.”

I entered the email, said a quick prayer, and plugged in the code. I held my breath as the site decided whether to give me access.

The screen changed, and a page popped up with several thumbnails of videos.

Wyatt leaned over me, studying the screen. “You did it,” he said in awe.

I looked over my shoulder at him. “We did it.”

He grinned, but any sense of celebration quickly faded as we turned our attention back to the page. Reaching around me, Wyatt put his hand over mine on the mouse and clicked on the last video.

My stomach knotted as the video began to play. The image was bad due to poor lighting, but it was clear enough that we could tell it had been taken in a motel room. Based on the floor plan of the room I’d been assigned, the camera was propped on the bathroom counter, along the wall opposite the door. A few seconds in, the door burst open and two men rushed in. They searched the room, then began to toss things around, obviously looking for something. One of the men opened a closet door and jerked a figure out of his hiding place.

“That’s Seth, isn’t it?” I asked, feeling nauseated.

“Yeah,” he said in a tight voice. “I think so.”

One of the men moved toward the camera before he moved out of view, giving us a clear view of his face.

“Do you know him?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“No,” he said. “I don’t. But he looks familiar.”

“He’s a deputy sheriff,” I said. “Timothy Spigot. I saw his photo while I was looking for information on the internet. He was involved in the shooting death of Barb’s boyfriend.”

“Shit,” Wyatt bit out.

“We can take this to the state police,” I said. “With what I witnessed and this video, we can go above the sheriff’s department.”

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Let me call my attorney and get his advice about how to proceed, but we might not be able to go to the state police until tomorrow.”

“Do you have cloud storage?” I asked. “The file is too big to email, and I really don’t want to download it to Max’s computer.”

He hesitated. “Yeah, but I rarely use it. I hope I remember how to access it.” He directed me to his account, and after three attempts at the password, we got in and I started the download.

“Okay,” I said once the download was complete. I shut down the page and logged out of the VPN. Next I cleaned out the search history so no one would be able to see what I’d been doing.

“The funeral’s tomorrow,” he said softly. “Goin’ to the state police will likely take all day.”

“Are you saying we can’t go to the state police because of the funeral?” I demanded, my temper rising as I swung around to face him. “Isn’t getting justice for Seth more important than laying him to rest?”

“Do you really want to leave Hank all alone?” he asked. “Because I’m not lettin’ you do this by yourself.”

He was right. We needed to be here for Hank, but surely we could at least send them the video in advance. I could give my interview after the funeral, or on Saturday. Why was he acting so hesitant?

Perhaps he’d realized what was just now dawning on me. If I went to the state police, my picture might be published or circulated. I could be found.

Either way, I had to do it. I had to get justice for Seth.

“Hey,” he said, “I’m not the enemy here, Carly. I want to nail the bastards who did this as much as you do, okay?”

Tears stung my eyes. He was right, and truth be told, he had more emotional investment in this situation than I did.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to go to work. Are you going out to relieve Ginger with Hank?”

His forehead wrinkled. “I don’t want to leave with you upset with me. I don’t want to leave you alone at all.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Max, and Ruth, and Tiny.”

Wyatt still looked worried, but he nodded.

I grabbed my shirt out of my purse and stood.

“I’ll be back to pick you up at midnight,” he said. He started to reach for me, then stopped.

I smiled up at him. “Okay.”

I was tempted to kiss him, but there were too many uncertainties right now. I needed to put my time and energy into making Seth’s murderers pay.

I left the room, with Wyatt on my heels, and nearly collided with Jerry on my way to the bathroom. When he saw me, he hightailed it into the dining room.

“Is there a problem?” Wyatt asked when he saw my reaction.

“No,” I said, because I had no real proof of anything. I didn’t have as much as a hunch he was doing anything wrong… he just seemed to be everywhere I was in town. “We’ll talk about it tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes, and he nodded. “If you need me, call me at Hank’s. I’ll come straightaway.”

“Thanks.” I went into the restroom and changed in a matter of seconds, then emerged from the bathroom to see Bitty coming around the corner from the office with my dirty dishes. She shot me a glare as she headed to the kitchen.

“I was going to bring them back,” I called after her, but she ignored me.

I still had to figure out how to win her over, but I had bigger fish to fry. I needed to make it through my shift without getting arrested. Or murdered.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The dinner shift was busy, and stayed that way well past eight and into the much less popular, but still well-attended, Thursday Night Football. The Cowboys were playing the Broncos, and the sides were evenly divided in the room.

The crowd was mostly some of the first group of patrons from Monday, but around nine, Bingham and a couple of his cronies showed up. Bingham’s gaze searched me out straightaway, and he gave me a knowing smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

My heart leapt into my rib cage. He was here for his answers.

Bingham sat at a table by the windows in Ruth’s section—away from the crowd huddled in front of the TV. When she went to take his order, he loudly insisted over the hum of the crowd that he wanted to be waited on by the new girl.

I was taking another customer’s order for beer and wings, but I cast a glance at an flummoxed Ruth, who gave me a shrug.

Max wasn’t as nonchalant. “Carly,” he called out. “Can I see you for a moment?”

I glanced back at Bingham before I slipped behind the bar. He looked pretty pleased with himself. It was becoming increasingly clear that Bingham wasn’t a fly-under-the-radar kind of guy, despite his relative lack of footprint on the internet.

“You do not have to wait on him,” Max said when I reached him, his jaw set. “In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t.”

“He’s here to see me, Max,” I said. “If we get this over with now, maybe he’ll leave.”