My mouth parted in shock. “You’d help me take on my father?”
“If that’s what it takes to make sure you’re safe, then yeah.” He sat up straighter. “Isn’t that what Wyatt promised and failed to deliver?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. It was a rhetorical question. “My father is part of an international drug cartel. You think Bart’s tough? He’s a cakewalk compared to Randall Blakely.” I shook my head, my voice calm and even. “No. I start with Bart because he’s practice for the big leagues and he was behind Seth’s death. He may not have pulled the trigger, but he was part of it, and I’m going to make sure he pays for that.”
Marco was silent for several long seconds. “You’re gonna need help.”
My eyes flew wide. “You’re gonna help me?”
“What kind of friend would I be if I let you do this alone?”
“But how?” I asked. “They won’t make you a detective, and it looks like they’re keeping you away from the real investigation.”
“I can’t help with that part, but I can keep my ears to the ground in the department. See if I can find out what’s goin’ on with the investigation. That part’s gonna be hard since they think I’m loyal to Max.”
“Aren’t you?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah. But not blindly.” Which I already knew. He’d made a point of considering every angle when Lula disappeared, including the possibility that Max, who’d been acting strange, was involved. “I don’t want you goin’ out on your own, though. You need to take someone as backup. Someone who will protect you.”
“Who?”
“Someone with a vested interest in this.”
I was confused for a moment. Then it hit me like a brick. “Wyatt?”
“I know he still cares about you—the way he took out the guy attacking you proved that—which means he’ll be good backup.”
“Maybe I could get Bingham to loan me a guy.” When Marco’s eyebrow shot up, I said, “What about Jerry? He protected us from Carson Purdy.”
He looked even more dubious. “And his hand was shakin’ the entire time.”
“You really think it’s a good idea to take Wyatt while I’m interviewing witnesses? Won’t it look like intimidation?”
“With the easier ones, yeah. But the tougher ones, no. You’ll need someone with confidence.”
Which Wyatt had in spades.
“You were flat-out against this five minutes ago.”
He shrugged, grabbing the bag between us and digging into it. “If you’re dead set on doin’ this, I figure I’d prefer to support you than to leave you unprotected.”
“Hank knows I’m looking into this,” I said. “And he’s none too pleased either. He told Wyatt he’d have to pay the blood price if anything happened to me.”
“A blood price? I haven’t heard that term in years. The Drummonds used it quite a bit back in their bootleggin’ days. It was their version of a handshake deal. If the other party reneged, the offended party got to take their blood price.” He was silent for a moment as he handed the Styrofoam container of salad to me. “Wyatt actually agreed?”
“Yeah, which was why he was none too pleased when I ditched him and went to see you at the construction site.”
He looked past me through the passenger window, squinting. “That would explain why Wyatt’s truck is parked on the side of the road the next block down.”
Spinning around, I peered through the tree branches, and sure enough, Wyatt’s F-150 was parked on the side of the road. “He’s following me.”
“If he agreed to a blood price, I’m not surprised. He’s got a lot hangin’ on you stayin’ alive.” His lips pursed. “We’ll just let this ride. He’s providin’ backup and thinks you’re none the wiser.”
“But he’s following me!”
“I know. And that’s good. For now.”
I started to protest but stopped. He was right. Wyatt was my backup, yet I didn’t have to deal with him. The contentious side of me wanted him to know I knew, but I could tell him later.
“You see the wisdom in it too?”
I opened the lid to my salad. “You got a fork in there?”
He handed it to me, holding my gaze.
“I’m not protesting, am I? That’s the best you’re gonna get out of me.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was appeased, but barely.
“So what’s your investigation plan?” he asked as he opened his own container. “And why were you playin’ with puppies?”
“I was holding kittens at the Drum Veterinary Clinic. Apparently they have a litter of six kittens that will be ready to be adopted next week.” I gave him an appraising glance. “Have you considered getting a cat?”
He released a snort. “Hell, no. And I don’t believe for a minute that you were there to adopt a kitten.”
“Okay, it started out as a cover to get me in the door. I was there to speak to Abby Atwood, who is now Dr. Donahey, DVM.”
“Why’d you want to talk to Abby?”
“She and Mitzi Ziegler were best friends with Heather in school.”
“No one could ever accuse you of lettin’ grass grow under your feet,” he said with a chuckle. “What did you find out?”
“If you’re really going to help me with this, then I should share everything with you,” I said. “Then we can look at all the information together, and you can help me decide where to look next.”
He nodded, looking pleased, so I launched into an account of everything that had happened from the moment Wyatt had knocked on my bedroom door this morning to when I’d left his house. I left out nothing except for my hurt feelings. They were a moot point for this investigation.
“That man has a lot of nerve asking for your help,” he finally said.
“I know.”
“I think you need to ask yourself what you hope to gain if we prove his innocence. His gratitude? The answers he’s refused to give you? Are you hopin’ he’ll tell you he fucked up and he’s sorry and he wants you back? Because you want something. You need to figure out
