Eve suddenly realized what she meant. “No way was it Daddy. He adored Mama. No way. I know he screwed up with Sheree, but that was different. He wasn’t himself. Mama was dying, and he was out of his mind.”
“You’re right,” Vera admitted. Not that there was ever any excuse. “That leaves either Charles Higdon or Walt Fraley—considering their wives were the others involved in the cover-up. Which would mean Mama was only helping a friend hide what she or he had done.”
The scenario went along with the things her father had said. The longer Vera thought about it, the more momentum the idea gained. Maybe only because she wanted so badly for it to be anyone but her father, preferably Higdon.
“I know Mama felt sorry for both those women,” Eve noted. “She said that no one deserved to die that way.” A frown tugged at her face. “You think she would have felt that way if one or both were involved with Daddy?”
“Probably not,” Vera said, working hard to think logically, “but the sympathy you thought she felt may have been regret for what he did and how it prompted her to do what she did.” Her chest constricted, and a deep breath just wouldn’t come. Then she remembered another aspect of that time period. “The second set of remains would have been placed in the cave around the time Mama got sick.”
“That’s right,” Eve confirmed. “I didn’t even think about the cave until way later.”
“Right,” Vera said, her thoughts zeroing in on the one detail that might prove a saving grace. “I can’t pinpoint a particular memory of anything happening between Mama and her friends, but I also can’t remember either one coming around after her diagnosis. No visits or calls to see how she was doing. No casseroles. I considered this before, but now that I know the rest, it might mean more than I first thought.”
“Oh my God,” Eve said, her face lighting up. “You’re right. Those two never came to see her after she got sick. Not once. Wait ...” She put her hand to her mouth before going on. “Mama was mad after the second woman was put in the cave. Really mad. I’m pretty sure that’s when her friends stopped coming around. Mama said something like once was a mistake, but purposely doing it again was unforgiveable.”
Anticipation zinging, Vera tried to think if she’d seen Beatrice or Florence at the funeral. She couldn’t remember. She’d been far too devastated. Surely they had come. Their absence would have been noticed by the whole community, not to mention their husbands. It would have been scandalous not to show up.
A strategy fell immediately into place. “We have to figure this out before we tell a soul,” Vera warned. “If Mama didn’t kill those two, and we know she couldn’t have, then Florence or Beatrice did. Or maybe one of their husbands.”
Eve didn’t appear so excited about the idea. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just tell Bent? This sounds like we might be getting into a hornet’s nest.”
Vera resisted the impulse to tell her sister this was already a hell of a hornet’s nest. Instead, she went with her gut on what the next step should be. Hoped it was the right one. First, she had to convince her sister. “There’s not a lot the law can do to Daddy, no matter the outcome of any charges against him for what happened to Sheree. The same goes for Mama. The only damage would be to their memories.” Vera pinned her sister with a look. “But you and Suri ... and Gates—that’s a different story. No matter that it’s a fairly clear case of self-defense, your world would be turned upside down, as would Suri’s. If none of the others he hurt testified, it would be a difficult case to prove.”
Eve’s face clouded with defeat. “I’m sorry, Vee. We handled it all wrong.”
Vera understood. These kinds of tragedies rarely occurred when people were thinking straight. “Let’s see what our options are and then decide about going to Bent.”
Eve visibly steadied herself. “How do we determine what our options are?”
A tiny smile tugged at Vera’s lips. Oh, she knew exactly where to start that process.
She’d already tested the waters—the weakest link ... where else?
37
Fraley Farm
Jenkins Road, Fayetteville, 8:00 p.m.
Vera checked the time again. Where the hell were the Fraleys?
“We’ve been here an hour and a half already. Is your plan to just sit here all night?” Eve shifted in the seat and stuck her head into the darkness outside the window, as if that would provide some sort of relief from the heat.
Not happening. No matter that it was past sunset. The humidity hung in the hot, thick air like molasses dripping from an open container. Her sister’s whining did not help the situation.
“We’re not leaving until one or both of the Fraleys come home,” Vera reminded her, avoiding a specific time frame. “You agreed to see this through.”
Eve hissed a beleaguered breath. “I get it. You’re punishing me because I knew about the women in that secret part of the cave and you didn’t.”
Vera’s jaw dropped. “That is the most asinine, childish statement I have ever heard.” She shook her head. How had she forgotten what it was like spending hours cooped up alone with her sister?
It had been more than twenty years since they’d spent this much time together alone, with no background distractions like a television or a looming task that couldn’t wait. Apparently, Vera decided, her sister had only one close friend—the same one she’d had since childhood. She worked where she’d always felt most comfortable, with the dead. Never deviated from the known and the trusted. Routine was her middle name. She was a textbook case of failure to move on to the next stage of emotional development.
Now Vera was just being mean. She pushed away the frustration. “I am not punishing you, Eve. You were a child, and learning what was in that cave was an accident. One I’m sure Mama would have preferred to protect you from. What we’re doing right now is to protect Mama. You want to do that, don’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do.” Eve dropped back into her seat. “And you’re right. She didn’t want me to see any of it, and I will do whatever is necessary to protect her memory.”
Vera leaned against her own headrest. “It’s exhausting.”