Page 11 of Deeper Than the Dead

“West Jennings,” Bent explained. “Wesley’s son. You may or may not know that Wesley took over his family’s farm a few years back. His younger son and one of his friends from school, Matt Thompson, were roaming the woods and came upon the cave and what was inside.”

“Eve told me,” she said, her throat suddenly dry for reasons that had nothing to do with the man watching her entirely too closely.

“You or Eve ever happen upon this?” Again, he hitched his head toward the opening, from which one of his deputies or an evidence tech exited just then. “It’s mostly hidden. I can understand if you didn’t.”

Her first instinct was to say no. But explaining how they’d discovered a good hiding place as kids and then never came back to it after they were older might make more sense. In addition, it would leave room for any potential evidence they may have left behind. Kids loved cool places, particularly those their parents might not know about.

“You two didn’t roam around out here the way West and Matt do?” He rephrased the question as if he had decided her lack of an immediate response meant she didn’t understand what he’d asked. “Wesley says his son and his friends are in the woods all the time.”

“Well, you know how boys are. Always looking for a way to get into trouble. But the answer to your initial question is yes. Eve and I found this place as kids. We used to play here quite often, but eventually we lost interest, so it’s been a really long time since we were in there.”

His gaze narrowed ever so slightly. The first part of her answer had hit home. Not particularly nice of her to make this uncomfortable for him, but some things just had to be said. The benefit was that if she kept him off his game, he was far less likely to do his best. There were things he could not know.

The simple fact in this whole mess was that there were some things you could never tell anyone. Not for love or money or anything else. You just could never tell.

Vera would not feel guilty about trying to protect her sister and herself from this nightmare. Telling the whole truth wouldn’t fix any of this. Sheree was dead. Had she deserved to die? Of course not. Would telling the truth make Luna feel any better? No. There was nothing to do except ride this out and deal with whatever came up as best they could.

No one would be better off with the real story.

Vera refused to analyze the conclusion. It would be like turning over the same rock repeatedly and hoping to find something different beneath it each time. It was what it was.

“You think your father knew about this place?”

“My father?” The question startled her. Otherwise she would have responded with a far more direct and incontestable reply rather than the one her brain spit out without thought. She steadied herself. “Daddy worked hard. He had two kids and a wife who was very ill. The idea that he was roaming around these woods looking for caves is a little silly, if you really think about it.”

“Three kids,” he countered.

“Obviously if he was busy with Eve and me,” she shot back, “he was even busier when Luna came along.” Particularly since Sheree hadn’t possessed the slightest maternal instinct.

That he flustered her so easily only made her more disconcerted. And angry.

“A man likes to keep an eye on his property,” Bent pressed. “You sure he hadn’t run upon West messing around out here? Before his illness took over?”

Had West said as much? Vera ignored the thought. “He certainly never mentioned anything about it if he did.” She folded her arms over her chest. “What is this? Are you suggesting my daddy had something to do with what happened to Sheree?”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Bent assured her. “I’m only attempting to determine if anyone in the family was aware of the cave.”

A thought occurred to Vera. “Maybe Sheree found it. She may have been meeting someone here and things went wrong.”

Did Vera feel guilty about throwing her stepmother under the bus? No way. Sheree had done all within her power to make Vera and Eve miserable. To suck everything—his attention, his money—from their father. No way did Vera feel even the slightest guilt for making a negative statement about her.

“Could be,” Bent agreed.

“When can I have a look around in there? I’m sure you’re aware I’m well qualified to assess a crime scene. More so, I would imagine, not to brag, than anyone in there right now.” She was bragging ... sort of. But it wasn’t to show off. It was to accomplish her goal.

His lips—the lips she had loved to kiss as a young, naive girl—quirked with the urge to smile. “Yes, I’m well aware of your qualifications, Vee. But I can’t let you in there.”

It had been worth a try.

“Because I’m a suspect?” She dared him with her eyes. “Are you actually going there?”

“I didn’t say you were a suspect. You know the rules.”

Yes, she did, but you never got to bend them unless you tried. “Then I’ll expect you to keep me well informed.”

With that, she showed him her back and started toward the house. If he refused to permit her to see the crime scene, there was little else she could do here. Other than sweat in this damned humidity and suffer powerful flashbacks of all those times she found herself tangled up with him.

She really had been naive.

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