His right-hand man, Carson Purdy, was the one who’d killed Bitty. He’d tried to silence me because I’d witnessed the murder of a teenage boy who’d had proof of what he and his accomplices were planning—a coup to unseat the local drug dealer, Todd Bingham. They’d been running a new drug from Atlanta to seal the deal, and Seth Chalmers, the boy they’d killed after he caught them in the act.

Todd Bingham and Bart Drummond were vying for the title of Most Important Man in Drum, Tennessee, although most people thought Bart still wore the crown, mostly because his dealings were aboveboard, while Bingham’s were all illegal. I wasn’t so sure about that, but it was common knowledge that Bart’s large donations to the sheriff’s department had likely helped clear him of any wrongdoing in the whole Carson Purdy episode.

“Carly?” Max prodded gently.

“You know what they say. No rest for the wicked.”

Worry filled his eyes. “Carly.”

I was still having nightmares about everything that had happened, from witnessing poor Seth’s murder to the final showdown with Carson, and everything in between. I’d had plenty of dealings with Bingham, owing to his personal investment in the whole mess, and he’d frightened me nearly as much as being held at gunpoint. But Max didn’t need to hear that. He seemed to feel guilty, as if he were at fault for putting me up in his motel that first night. So I just waved him off and headed for Franklin’s table. As I walked away, I noticed frown lines on his forehead. He was reading the note disparaging my waitressing skills. If Bart Drummond wanted to insult me with twenty-dollar tips, he was free to do so every day of the week and twice on Sunday.

“How’s everyone doin’?” I asked Franklin’s group when I went to check on them. Like most places, Drum was home to an assortment of people, and Franklin’s co-workers were the good kind. “Can I get y’all anything else? Refills? Should I save y’all pieces of Miss Patsy’s pie? I gotta warn you—they’re goin’ fast.” While Tiny was a great grill cook, he’d left the baking to Bitty. Without her around to make dessert, Max had gotten Miss Patsy, the Methodist preacher’s spinster sister, to start making daily pies for us, and they had been a hit.

Tinker, a man in his forties, leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly. “I sure as Pete can’t pass up a piece of Miss Patsy’s pie.”

“We’ve got pumpkin, apple crisp, and pecan today. Miss Patsy seems to be in a fall kind of mood.”

Each of the men ordered a slice of pie along with a scoop of ice cream. I was about to head to the back with the ticket when the front door opened. The woman who walked in was tiny—barely five feet tall—and her platinum blonde hair was in two braids that hung a few inches past her shoulders. She had a youthful face with doe eyes, and she was wearing jeans and a bohemian-style blue shirt. A duffel bag was slung over her shoulder.

Max stopped in his tracks when he saw her, his arms full of dirty dishes, a scowl crossing his face.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tinker said, sitting up straighter.

Franklin had stilled as well, casting me a worried glance. “Lula’s back.”

Which meant I was out of a job.

Chapter Two

I’d known this job was temporary, but somehow I’d shoved that fact in the back of my mind. Max had always promised me that he’d keep me around when or if Lula returned, but the tavern wasn’t busy enough for three full-time waitresses.

Lula turned her attention to me, her already large blue eyes widening. “You replaced me, Max?”

The look in Max’s eyes softened just a touch. Lula’s flightiness was legendary—apparently she’d come and gone too many times to count, usually with no notice—and this last time, she’d gone off to Chattanooga with a truck driver who’d delivered food supplies for Tiny. Max had threatened to not take Lula back, saying she’d left one time too many, but the customers loved her. They’d only warmed up to me because Max and I had both assured them I was temporary.

Panic started to bloom in my chest. I was living under an alias and my father had a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bounty on my head disguised as a reward for my safe return. Wyatt—the only person in Drum who knew I’d been born Caroline Blakely—had convinced me that Drum was one of the safest places I could be…previous murder attempts notwithstanding. He had a point—it was a land lost in time with limited access to internet and even spottier cell phone coverage. It also had absolutely no CCTV cameras. Besides which, the people made me want to stay.

Nevertheless, I had to earn my keep, and Drum wasn’t exactly overflowing with jobs.

“He didn’t replace you,” I said with a wide smile. I stepped closer and offered her my hand. “I’m Carly Moore. I’ve been filling in for you.”

She glanced down at my hand, but instead of taking it, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest thing!”

Max still stood to the side, and when she released me, she turned and gave him a soft smile. “Hey, Max.”

“Don’t ‘hey, Max,’ me,” he said, trying to sound gruff, but it came out forced. “You walked out on us, Lula. You left us in a bind. Again.”

“I know,” she said, casting her gaze on the floor. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Just because you came back doesn’t mean you still have a job. Carly has busted her ass to take up the slack for you. It doesn’t seem fair to punish her just because you decided to drop in for another month or two before you take off again,” he said in a harsh tone, but I saw the indecision flickering on his face.

He was still holding the dirty plates, so I took them from him.

“Maybe you should have this conversation in the back.” I nodded to the table of road crew guys, who were openly staring in curiosity and shock.

Franklin looked plain worried.

“Good idea,” Max said. His mouth turned down and he led the way, leaving Lula to follow.

“Hey, Lula,” one of the guys said as she walked by, lifting a hand in greeting.

“Good to have you back,” Tinker said.

And that was when I knew I’d lost my job. If Max fired Lula, half the men in town would treat me like a pariah. They’d revolt and start going to Watson’s.

Max shot them a frown as he kept walking, but Lula waved.

“Hey, Billy. Hey, Tinker and Tater, good to see you.” Then she disappeared into the back.

I took the dirty plates to the tray Tiny liked us to dump them in and handed in the ticket for the guys’ pies. I waited on another table, then picked up the pie order and headed back to Franklin’s table.

“Here you go, gentlemen,” I said in a friendly tone as I set the plates in front of them. “Would anyone like some coffee? It’ll warm you up before you head back out in the cold.”

Billy looked up at me. “What’s gonna happen to you now that Lula’s back?”

“Don’t you worry about me, Billy,” I said, forcing a smile. “The good news is that Lula’s back and everyone’s happy.”

Franklin frowned and got up from his seat. “That coffee sounds pretty good, Carly. How about I come back and help you get the cups?”