Page 135 of Deeper Than the Dead

“Can we bring you something when we come back?” Luna asked, worry lining her face.

“No.” Vera forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

When the door closed behind the two, she glared at Bent. The man was smart. He’d stayed at the foot of her bed—out of reach.

“I am so angry with you,” Vera said, her speech a little thick. Damn it.

He nodded. “I know. But I’m here now, and I’ll tell you everything.”

She had wanted to be there to observe the questioning while those two crazy women were interviewed. She had wanted to hear what Brooks had to say. Not to mention how badly she’d wanted to be there when Charles Higdon got his. Damn it!

But Bent had sent her to the hospital strapped to a damned gurney.

“You tricked me,” she said, even angrier now than she was four hours ago. “You told me if I’d just let the paramedics have a look at me, you’d ensure I was with you for everything.”

He stared at the floor.

“Instead, they strapped me on that gurney and brought me here.”

He finally met her gaze. “If it makes you feel better, when you’re well enough, you can kick my ass the way you did Mrs. Higdon’s.”

She might have laughed if she hadn’t been so pissed off. “Just tell me what happened, and don’t leave anything out.”

Bent had already been at her house looking for her when the 911 call came in. He’d gotten out of his meeting a few minutes early and seen the text message with the photo.

“What about Preston?” she said, not waiting for him to begin. “Whatever he said, he was part of this too.”

Bent nodded. “He was tied up in the wine cellar, just like you said. And he, of course, insists he had no clue what was going on other than Brooks attacked him. When we pressed the issue, he lawyered up.”

Vera felt her face going red with another blast of outrage.

“Don’t worry,” Bent assured her. “Brooks told us everything—including Preston’s part. Beatrice confirmed his story.”

Vera closed her eyes a second to make the room stop spinning. “You’re giving me the abridged version. How about filling in some of the finer details.”

Bent dared to move around to the side of the bed. “According to Beatrice, Preston was the intruder—just like you said. Although his bottle of expensive aftershave was stashed in Brooks’s bathroom.”

“Florence bragged about having thought of that.” Vera wondered how no one had seen the crazy in that woman.

“The black SUV parked at the Brooks’s place belongs to Preston’s assistant. We brought her in, and she confessed immediately to having run you off the road. Preston talked her into it.”

Vera decided she couldn’t stand waiting for the crescendo. “Florence killed Latesha and Trina, didn’t she?”

“Yes. She’s trying to get some sort of deal—as is her husband. But Beatrice has already rolled on both of them.”

The tremendous rush of relief combined with the meds had Vera relaxing maybe a little too much. “Charles was the sugar daddy. I knew it.” Well, at least she’d wanted it to be him.

“It started out that way,” Bent said, “but Preston and Latesha got involved. Beatrice said Florence never cared what Charles did as long as no one in town found out. But she was terrified Preston would screw up his life—get kicked out of Harvard ... ruin his reputation.”

“Beatrice didn’t kill anyone, right?” Vera hadn’t believed her capable of murder. But how had such an intelligent woman allowed such an evil one to drag her into this mess?

“No, but she feels responsible. Apparently she and Preston had a thing during his high school years. When he got involved with Latesha, Beatrice got jealous. She’s the one who told Florence. Got her all fired up about how Preston would be ruined if the girl got pregnant or folks found out.” Bent shook his head. “Because of that, she feels responsible for what happened. In the end, it didn’t matter, because Preston was no longer interested in an older woman. It was all for nothing. And two young women lost their lives.”

“That’s why she went along,” Vera realized. “She needed to make sure no one ever found out about her affair.” The reality went to show that even good people would do almost anything to protect their secrets. Just like Brooks said.

“She didn’t want anyone, especially Walt, to find out.” Bent shook his head.

Vera felt bad for Walt. But she felt utterly sick at what those two had dragged her mother into. “They used my mother to help them hide the bodies.”

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