Page 123 of Deeper Than the Dead

Downstairs they repeated the same steps. Every drawer, every shelf, every nook and cranny were searched. Vera was damned good at not missing potential hiding places. No surprise. She was a highly trained analyst who had helped create a cutting-edge team. She hadn’t gotten so far without expertise in many areas.

She stopped in the middle of the living room and turned to him, looking exhausted and frustrated and just a little bit vulnerable. “I believe we’ve covered everything.” Vera collapsed on the couch.

The bandage on her forehead made his chest feel too tight. When he found out who did this ... He shook off the thought. “I should see what I can whip up for dinner,” he suggested. “Then I’ll get out of your hair and let you get some rest.”

“Are you going to talk to Preston?” she asked, sounding incensed before he even answered the question.

“I will, yes.” He set his hands on his hips and readied for battle. “But you get that he’s a judge. I wouldn’t want to walk in accusing him of a crime without any evidence.”

“The aftershave,” she argued. “It was the one the intruder was wearing, and how many men around here do you think wear two-thousand-dollar aftershave?”

“I get that.” He nodded for emphasis. “But maybe it was a knockoff brand.”

She made a face at the suggestion. “Does he or someone he knows drive a big black SUV? I find it a very big coincidence that this vehicle ran me off the road only a couple of hours after I spoke to him. Especially considering that during our conversation I mentioned the aftershave. I told you that, and it was not a knockoff.”

She really was tired. She was repeating herself. Very un-Vera-like. And she had to know that black SUVs were a dime a dozen. God and everybody owned one.

The sound of the front door opening had them both moving into the hall.

Luna, then Eve, walked in.

Saved by the bell. Bent hoped he was off the hook about the judge until he could do some digging. As much as he wanted to charge into the man’s house, he had to keep his cool and be smart about this. Vera was not thinking straight. She was emotionally involved and angry.

“Oh my goodness,” Luna cried, staring at Vera. “Are you all right?” She threw down her bag and rushed to her sister. “One of Jerome’s friends works at the hospital and called him.”

Eve was a little slower, but she did basically the same thing. She flinched when she looked at the bandage. “You okay?”

Vera nodded, then winced at the movement. “I’m fine. Just pissed. That’s all.”

“I can vouch for that,” Bent warned, holding up a hand.

The sisters laughed; Vera rolled her eyes, but she was smiling just a little.

“I ordered food from the Local,” Luna said. “It’ll be here any minute.”

Maybe this was his cue to go. He had some research to do.

Maybe some ass to kick.

42

Sunday, July 28

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 7:00 a.m.

Vera’s head ached.

She closed her eyes and tried to force the pain away. No such luck.

Beyond the pain, her mind kept replaying the way Bent had watched her in the hospital. His hovering had made her almost as angry as the driver who’d run her off the road. She refused to acknowledge the other feelings his intent attention had roused. A quick call this morning to check on her before she’d been ready to get up, much less to hear his voice, hadn’t helped.

“Not going there,” she muttered.

She got up, grimaced. She needed to dig through her closet for something else to wear. She’d had a long, hot bath last night in hopes of heading off some of the aches and pains today would bring. Hadn’t worked as well as she had hoped. Passing the dresser on the way to the closet, she got a look in the mirror and gasped. The bruise on her forehead was more visible now. The skin around the stitches was red and angry. Dark circles had formed beneath her puffy eyes. Damn.

She turned away from the mirror. Too early for that.

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