I took a sip of my coffee, then asked, “What did the sheriff’s deputies want to know? Was Heather buried on that land?”

He made a face, then rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the creek. “You sure don’t beat around the bush.”

“I figured you didn’t show up at Hank’s at eight in the morning after not speaking to me for months just to have a friendly chat.”

“That’s not true,” Wyatt said. “I spoke to you last night. And the night before that.” A dark scowl covered his face, probably from the memory of Blake and what he’d maybe tried to do.

“You know what I mean,” I countered.

“Why did you really talk to my father?” he asked, his intense gaze holding mine.

“What are you talking about?”

“You told Max that my father informed you that he’d just won a court case. There’s no way he’d volunteer information like that to you at a pharmacy in Ewing. What really happened?”

I snorted, then shook my head. “You could have asked me that question months ago, Wyatt. What does it matter now?”

“Because I didn’t know about it months ago.”

I shrugged. “It’s water under the bridge.”

His brow furrowed. “Is it? I’m worried about you, Carly.”

I pushed out a frustrated breath. “Sounds like you should be worrying about yourself. Was Heather buried on that land?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

A mixture of grief and confusion stole over his face.

I nodded, grateful for the confirmation, although I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I just appreciated that he was being open about something for a change. “Are you a suspect?”

“They didn’t come right out and say it, but I have to admit I’d be number one on the list if I were investigatin’.”

“Did you do it?” I asked bluntly.

Shock covered his face. “I can’t believe you’re askin’ me that.”

I squared my shoulders. “Well, I’m asking.”

“I didn’t kill her!” he shouted, sounding more frustrated than pissed.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I asked in a snotty tone that I instantly regretted.

“Did you really think I might have?” he asked in disbelief.

Had I? No. Otherwise I wouldn’t be out here alone with him. But I was confused about what he was up to. What he wanted from me.

“Why are you here, Wyatt?” I asked, my voice breaking, which pissed me off.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t sure who else to talk to.”

“That’s just sad.” He’d lived here his entire life, and he’d only been with me for less than a month. It wasn’t like I’d been much of a confidant for him either—he’d told me next to nothing.

“I know.”

We stood in silence for several seconds before I asked in a softer tone, “Do you want to sit down?” I gestured to another rock on the other side. “The seats aren’t super comfy, but it beats standing.”

He glanced at the squatty rock and sat down opposite me.

“Seth used to like comin’ out here,” he said quietly, his gaze on the pool. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “He’d sometimes sit out here for an hour or more, waiting to get a good shot of a bird or a deer or whatever showed up.”

I’d found evidence of Seth’s photography skills in his room when I’d cleaned it out. I’d framed a few photos of birds for Hank for his birthday in January. “He was very talented.”

“Yeah,” Wyatt said in a gruff tone. “He was.”

And Bart Drummond had likely arranged his murder, hence our agreement to make him pay for his actions before we did the same with my father. Only Wyatt had reneged, and his father had walked around for the past five months while that talented boy was buried six feet under.

My anger simmered.

“I know I have no right askin’ this, but I’m gonna ask anyway,” he said, keeping his gaze on the water. “I need your help.”

“With what?” I asked, hesitant.

His face lifted. “I didn’t kill Heather, and I want to know who did. You know from firsthand experience with Seth’s death that the sheriff department won’t look into this too hard, which means I’ll need to conduct my own investigation.”

“And you want me to help prove your innocence?” I asked, my guard still up. “You could just do it yourself.”

“People are gonna assume I did it, which means they won’t talk to me. And if I hire a PI, they won’t talk to them either since they’ll be an outsider.”

“I’m an outsider.”

“Most people have accepted you,” he said. “They like you. They’ll talk.” Then he added, “They talked to you when you were lookin’ for Lula.”

The mention of Lula only pissed me off more, but he had a point. He’d spent the past several years distancing himself from this town. No one was going to tell him squat.

“Max has got me workin’ doubles,” I said. “How am I supposed to help you if I’m working all the time?”

“Molly can take some of your shifts.”

And Ginger, if she and Max agreed to the arrangement.

I pursed my lips, watching the water from the pool spill over several rocks before it continued downstream. Wyatt and I might not be together anymore, but I didn’t believe he was capable of murder. Or at least not the cold-blooded murder of someone he’d once loved. I also suspected he was about to get railroaded, and I didn’t want to see that happen. Maybe I really could help. Turned out I’d done a pretty solid job of tracking Greta down, although I’d had Marco as backup. Plus, I couldn’t help thinking Bart had played a role in Heather’s death, and if I found proof, it might help me knock him to his knees.

“Are you paying?” I asked.

He frowned. “I don’t have deep pockets like Bingham does.”

I released a bitter laugh. “You think Bingham paid me to look for Lula?” I shook my head, berating myself for getting into this, yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “I looked for Lula because no one else would. Because I was genuinely worried about her. Little did I know that you and Max had her holed up at your place. You put Greta in danger and you nearly got me killed, all because you, once again, couldn’t trust me, so why in God’s name would you ask me to help you clear your name? What magic switch flipped that makes you trust me now?”

His eyes narrowed. “Twice now you’ve said that you were nearly killed, and the day you left me you said you were poisoned. Who poisoned you? What happened, Carly?”

“Those are personal questions, Wyatt, and we don’t do those,” I snapped. “You want my help? You can pay me with information.”

“Carly…”

His tone told me everything I needed to know. He’d used the same exact tone half a dozen other times when he’d hedged and equivocated and circled around the truth, and I wasn’t having it. I got up and hopped over the creek, then started down the path.

“Carly!” he called after me.