“I never said I was worried,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
He gave me a pointed look, and I smiled. Six months ago, I hadn’t even known this man, but now he was more like a father to me than my own father had ever been.
But Hank didn’t do mushy, so I turned back to the bird feeder. A male and female cardinal stood on the ledge. Hank had taught me more about birds than I’d ever wanted to know, especially after I’d gifted him with two bird guidebooks for Christmas, but I found I enjoyed it too. Hank and I had spent countless mornings on the porch, him watching birds while I read. “Wyatt and I are going to take a walk.”
“I told that boy to let you sleep. That you’re workin’ yourself ragged, but he went on in anyway.”
I flashed him an appreciative look. “That’s okay. I’ll talk to him.”
I stepped off the porch and into the patchy front yard and waited for Wyatt to follow.
“Want to take the trail?” I asked, still not looking at him.
“Sure,” he said, “wherever you want.”
“The trail it is.”
Hank owned several acres that mostly ran deep into the trees. I wasn’t sure about the property lines since there wasn’t any fencing, but there was a well-established trail that led to a small pond fed by a creek.
“So you found out about the trail?” Wyatt asked as I headed to the opening in the trees behind the house.
“Hank told me before the first snowfall,” I said, keeping my gaze on the ground in front of me. “But I didn’t get a chance to check it out until a few weeks ago. Now I come out here a few times a week…if I have time.”
I entered the trees, keeping to the narrow path as the scent of pine filled my nose. The first time I’d come out here, I’d been suffused with a sense of peace, something that was in short supply in my life, so if the weather was cooperative, and even sometimes when it wasn’t, I hiked out to the creek to clear my head.
Wyatt followed silently behind me until we reached the small clearing. The creek formed a small shallow pool, about six feet wide, before it narrowed to a couple of feet. Several large rocks sat around the perimeter on both sides. I hopped over the narrow section and sat in my usual place—on a large gray boulder with jagged edges on one side, smooth stone on the other. A smaller rock was next to it, the perfect footrest, so I set my feet on it and looked over at Wyatt, who was watching me from the other side. The only sound was the babbling of the water.
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
