Page 134 of Deeper Than the Dead

Vera racked her brain for something more to say or do. “All you’ve done is set your son up to take the fall,” she warned Florence. “He was the one who lured me to his house with those text messages. I’ve already told Bent he was the intruder who broke into our house—his damned aftershave gave him away.”

Florence cackled. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? That’s why Brooks has Preston’s phone and Preston is at home tied up in his wine cellar. Oh, and the aftershave, it’s in the bathroom just down the hall. Brooks has a reputation for petty theft.”

Vera shifted gears, looked to Beatrice again. “What’s going to happen to Walt when you go to prison? Or is he going to prison too?”

Beatrice refused to look at her.

Vera shook her head. Ignored the scream in her skull. “For the first time in my life, I’m glad my mother is dead so she doesn’t have to know what the women she trusted are doing to her daughter.”

“Just shut up!” Florence reached for Vera’s hands once more.

Vera wrenched her wrists harder. Florence grabbed at her right hand. The rope fell slack.

Vera twisted and plowed her shoulder into Florence. The woman toppled onto the floor. Vera hit the shag carpet face first.

The gun discharged.

Vera rolled and sprang up onto all fours and then to her feet. She swayed a little.

Brooks was rocking side to side and spewing curses.

Florence screamed and rushed toward Vera, the gun clasped in both hands.

“No.” Beatrice stepped in front of Vera.

Florence jerked to a stop. “Get out of my way, or I’ll shoot you too!”

“I can’t let you do this,” Beatrice argued. “This is not her fault.”

Florence shoved her lifelong friend out of the way. “It’s too late to back out now.”

Vera slugged the woman before she could level her aim once more. She fell backward over Brooks and hit the floor flat on her back. The weapon flew from her hand.

Brooks rolled and flopped to get the woman off him, then struggled to his knees. He swayed drunkenly. “What the ... hell?”

Vera scrambled for the gun. Grabbed it and pushed herself to her feet, adopted a firing stance. “Call 911, Beatrice,” she ordered, “before I really do have to shoot someone.”

Beatrice did as she was told.

“You,” Vera said to Brooks. “Sit down, and don’t move.”

“They fucking drugged me,” he roared. “I did what they said by coming to your house this morning, and then instead of paying me, they drugged me.” His face contorted with rage mostly directed at Florence, who was rocking and moaning on the floor. “I’m going to kill that bitch.”

“I’d like to myself.” Vera exhaled a weary breath. “But we can’t. She’s going to rot in prison.”

Vera steadied herself and hoped like hell help got here fast. The adrenaline was fading fast, and she wasn’t at all sure how much longer she could remain standing.

Lincoln Medical Center

Fayetteville, 4:50 p.m.

Vera was fighting mad by the time Bent walked into her hospital room.

Eve and Luna had been trying to calm her since they arrived. The two had stayed with her through all the tests and scans. This time she had a serious concussion, and the doctor had already warned that she would not be leaving the hospital today.

The only upside was that the meds had toned down the pain. Even her fist where she’d slugged Florence wasn’t hurting anymore. Vera was fairly confident the lethargy was the primary reason she hadn’t stormed out of this room already.

“We’ll ... ah,” Eve said, looking from Vera to Bent, “give you guys a few minutes.” She jerked her head for Luna to follow her.

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