Page 12 of Deeper Than the Dead

Even now she couldn’t help wondering if he remembered those days and weeks as graphically as she did. She rolled her eyes. Idiot.

More importantly, she loved that she was the one walking away from him right now. She would bet just about anything that he was watching, still wondering what he should have said differently to keep things on a friendlier level.

No matter how badly she wanted to appease the ridiculous curiosity expanding inside her, she did not allow herself to look back. Not when she could feel his gaze burning a hole in her back. Oh, he remembered, she decided. A triumphant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. In fact, she doubted enough alcohol existed to erase those memories.

The man she had known back then was more mature now, obviously. Less spontaneous, probably. Less self-destructive, maybe. That part was hard to say just yet.

Sadly, if anything, he was far more physically attractive. No doubt wiser.

Bent had always been smart. She had heard her daddy say more than once that he could have done anything he wanted with his life if he hadn’t loved the bottle so much. Even back then, Bent had been particularly observant as well ... but was he perceptive enough to know Vera was lying?

She could only hope that was not the case.

5

Hillside Manor

Molino Road, Fayetteville, 6:55 p.m.

The memory care facility had been built on the hillside overlooking the town—thus the name Hillside Manor. A grand old house built in the late eighteen hundreds, the home had represented a status symbol for the wealthy Lott family who’d resided there. The last of the family—a daughter named Sarah—nursed both parents through the horrific stages of dementia. In her will, since she had no children of her own or other family, Sarah left the house and land, as well as the remaining family riches, to the city for the purpose of developing a memory care facility for patients like her parents.

Hillside Manor had been Luna’s choice for their father’s care. Vera had been okay with that decision. She’d heard mostly good things about the facility. The fees associated with long-term care at Hillside were a bit exuberant, but she, Eve, and Luna all pitched in to supplement their father’s savings so it would be enough. As his daughters, they had a duty to ensure he was comfortable for the rest of his days.

Even if he had failed his two older daughters so completely in the after.

“You know,” Eve said as she and Vera strolled toward the entrance, “they say Sarah Lott’s ghost still roams these halls.”

“Of all the things—good and bad—said about this place,” Vera noted, “only you would latch on to that one.”

Eve grinned. “Who’s to say ghosts aren’t real?”

Vera was not going there. “Be nice. This is important to Luna.”

Luna was already at the reception desk when Vera and Eve walked in. Their younger sister hurried over and pressed peel-and-stick visitor badges to their chests.

“Now.” She smiled widely, but the expression lacked her usual vivaciousness. “We’re ready.”

Luna turned and led the way to their father’s room. Vera reminded herself that Luna was still very young. Having been spoiled so by all of them, she wasn’t quite as mature as she might otherwise be. That said, no one could question her organization skills—or her innate proficiency at being bossy.

Vera had actually hoped after the visit to the funeral home that Luna’s fiancé would occupy her for the evening so Vera and Eve could talk further. But that hadn’t happened. Vera had barely gotten home from the visit to the crime scene when Luna returned and insisted they go together to see their father and to give him the news about her mother. Like he would grasp the ramifications of what they were saying.

Be nice, Vee.

But it was true. This endeavor was pretty much pointless, since most of the time their father had no idea what planet he was on, much less who his long-missing wife was. But if it made Luna happy, then it had to be—for all their sakes. This was Luna’s world, and they were just paying rent. It was the motto Vera and Eve had lived by throughout the after period. In truth they still did. Case in point, here they were marching down the corridor like soldiers on a mission—at the behest of their fearless leader.

As they entered the room, Vera drew in a deep breath and pasted on a smile she almost had to choke back. Why was it that no matter how much a place like this cost, it still smelled the same? A combination of medicine, cleaning products, and urine.

“Daddy,” Luna said, as if calling him to the stage for an award. “Look who’s here!” She turned to Vera and gestured with her hands like Vanna White showing off the next letter in a prize puzzle. “Vera has come all the way from Memphis to see you. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Vernon Boyett had already been tucked into bed. He stared at the muted television that was set to a decades-old sitcom. His mouth sagged just enough to leave a crack between his lips. His gray hair was a bit mussed, and his jaw sported a slight evening shadow that was equally gray. As he glanced toward Luna, his gaze remained distant, then swung quickly back to the television.

With a nudge from Luna, Vera moved closer to his bed and increased the wattage of her smile, making her lips feel brittle. “Hey, Daddy. How’re you feeling today?”

He looked toward her and blinked but said nothing.

Luna grabbed Eve by the arm and pulled her closer. Eve always lingered in the background, and Luna always tried to integrate her into the forefront of whatever they were doing. It was like family dinners, where everyone talked about their days except Eve. Or gift-giving time at Christmas, when Eve had to be prompted to open her presents when everyone else had already ripped through all theirs.

“Eve’s here too.”

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