“There are different kinds of danger, Carly. Starin’ down a rogue deputy is different than starin’ down a man who aims to hurt you usin’ underhanded methods.”

My mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Only with Paul Conrad, you got both.” That man had been corrupt in every sense of the word.

“Bart Drummond’s a lot sneakier than Conrad ever thought about bein’.” He hesitated, then said, “I’d love to see Bart get his comeuppance, but I’m not sure it’s worth riskin’ your life over.”

I turned to face him more. “What are you talking about? We both knew this was the plan. Hell, he’s threatened to turn in information on Hank, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was real evidence and not concocted.”

He cocked his head, his eyes boring into mine. “If it’s real, what if Hank deserves to be in prison? What if he killed someone? Or multiple someones. You can’t get as high as he did in the drug game and get away with squeaky clean hands.”

I broke the stare. “Trust me, thinking about his past has kept me awake more than a night or two, but if he deserves to be in jail, let someone other than Bart put him there. Besides, the plan was to use Bart for practice. My father is the main goal.”

“So let’s forget Bart and go straight to the FBI.”

I groaned. “We’ve discussed this already, Marco. Multiple times. My friend in Arkansas told me the FBI won’t protect me. I don’t have any evidence they can use to prosecute him. They’d just send me back to him, probably with a wire, hoping he’d share incriminating information. But he wouldn’t. He’s never trusted me, and he certainly isn’t about to start after a year-long disappearance. He’d have me killed, and then he’d pay for someone to falsify evidence that I’d married Jake first. I’d rather live in hiding.”

His eyes widened at my mention of Arkansas. Without my friends there, I never would have been able to come here. They’d had their own close brushes with my father’s illegal organization, which was moving into their town like a cancer. They’d given me this second life as Carly Moore so I could stay on the run. Still, we’d hashed out the other options before I left. The FBI had been one of them. I’d only spoken to Marco about my time in Henryetta, Arkansas twice, so I understood his surprise that I was mentioning it now.

“If you have to run again,” he said cautiously, “I want to go with you, but we need a plan.”

He was talking about throwing his life away again. For me. I couldn’t handle the guilt. What was I giving him in return? Myself? It didn’t seem like enough, and I wasn’t even sure I could bring myself to do that all the way.

“We can talk about a plan to run later,” I said, getting to my feet again. “I have work to do.”

Chapter Fifteen

I’d only eaten half of my lunch, but my appetite was gone. Still, I felt bad that I wasn’t making the most of the surprise Marco had prepared for me. I mentioned it to him as I cleaned up my trash.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll go back again sometime after this mess has been cleared up.”

I grinned. “I like that enthusiasm. We’ll plan on a celebratory lunch.”

“It’s a deal.”

We threw our trash away and Marco walked me to my car.

“What about Ted Butcher?” I asked as we reached the driver’s side door. “Have you had a chance to look into him?”

“No, I only had a chance to pull Thad’s accident before I had to leave. I’ll look into Butcher’s arrest reports later this afternoon. Stick to Pam’s friends and family for now.”

“So you don’t want to pick another old case to look at?” I asked. “We never settled on one this morning.”

“No,” he said with a worried look. “If people know you’re asking about multiple cases, they might put together what you’re doin’.”

So basically we were hamstrung, and I’d only made the situation worse by showing up at the jail and asking for Pam Crimshaw’s daughter. I never should have gone in.

“Do you still want to spend the night at my place?” he said. “We can go over the reports together. Then we can figure out what to do next.”

I ran a hand over my head. “Yeah, okay. But I’ll have to get up early and head over to Hank’s for breakfast.” I tilted my head to the side. “Wyatt says he’s cooking.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Maybe you can show up a few minutes late.”

I laughed. “I wondered when your testosterone would kick in.”

“I’m trying my best, but I’m not a saint.”

I turned serious. “I guess we’re not mentioning the way you were touching me at the jail.”

Worry filled his eyes. “That was for show. To let them know you’re important to me.”

“I figured.”

We continued to look at each other, waiting for the other to say something, but silence hung in the air.

“Be careful, Carly,” he finally said, his eyes pleading. “If you feel threatened at all, get the hell out of whatever situation you’re in and call me. I’ll get to you as fast as I can.”

“I will.” I gave him a soft smile. “You be careful too. I’ll see you at the tavern?”

“I hope so.” He grimaced. “I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through, but I’ll stop by if I finish early enough. Otherwise, I’ll meet you at the house.”

“I know you saw Max last night, but I’m sure he’d like to see you anyway.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed hanging out there.” He reached for the handle and opened the door.

I got inside and he shut the door behind me, giving me a small wave.

I waved back, feeling a pinch of something inside of me.

We pulled out of the lot in the same direction, heading back toward town, but he took a turn toward the sheriff’s station and I headed to Walgreens.

I didn’t think Ashlynn worked at Walgreens. For one thing, she’d called her place of employment a drugstore and most people of the people who’d refer to a chain pharmacy by such an archaic term resided in Greener Pastures. But Marco was right about the go bag, and while I suspected he was also right about getting most of the items in Greeneville, I could easily explain getting personal hygiene products to put in it.

Grabbing a basket once I got inside, I headed for the shampoo aisle, grabbing my usual shampoo and conditioner, but I also picked up a box of dark brown hair dye. I preferred my hair long, and had let it grow out past my shoulders, but if I had to run again, I knew I’d have to drastically change it again. Which meant I’d have to go shorter than the shoulder-length bob I’d gotten last October. Much shorter. That or a wig. Sadly, I wasn’t sure my vanity could handle something shorter than my chin.

I also picked up some ibuprofen and Tylenol, bandages, antibiotic ointment, a few skin care products I used, as well as some feminine hygiene items. Then, because I decided to be optimistic, I grabbed a puzzle I hadn’t seen before and two bags of butterscotch candies for the ladies at the nursing home.