Page 26 of Deeper Than the Dead

Vera forced the memories away and drifted down the stairs. It had been so long since she’d spent a night in this house, she’d forgotten about all the wonderful childhood photos her mother had hung on the wall going down the stairs. Thankfully Sheree hadn’t touched any of those either. She probably hadn’t even paid attention to them. She’d been far too full of herself to notice anyone or anything else.

Downstairs, the vague scent of coffee lingered. A glass dome covered a stack of muffins waiting on the table along with a note from Luna saying she decided it was better to go to work and keep her mind off things. There was no note from Eve, but her favorite mug sat in the sink, with a telltale ring suggesting she had coffee here this morning.

Since the leftover coffee in the pot was cold, Vera grabbed a pod and made a single cup. With her cup brewed, she slid onto a stool and checked her cell. No calls. No emails or text messages. She wished that were a good sign, but it wasn’t. What it meant was one of two things—either the powers that be in Memphis had nothing to back up the narrative they wanted to present, or they had something that didn’t fit their narrative. In either case, a lid would be kept on things until they figured a way around the issue.

Vera drew in a deep breath and sent a text to Bent to see if there was any news here. She thought of last night and how he sat out there in his truck the way he used to when they were younger ... and far less intelligent. He left not long after she came back inside, but the impression he’d made stayed with her for hours, because that’s how long it took her to finally fall asleep. Damn it.

She had been so enthralled with him back in high school. Her father had warned her about Bent, but there had been a mystique about him she couldn’t resist. A dark allure. Neither of which she would have allowed herself to fall into had she not been so desperate to escape what was happening at home. Bent had been this secret, forbidden thing that was hers and hers alone.

Then, six months later he left without saying a word. She had to hear about it from his mean-ass daddy. Since her father hadn’t bought her a car yet, she rode her bicycle all the way to Bent’s house and beat on the door until someone answered. Howard Benton yanked the door open and staggered onto the porch at four o’clock in the afternoon. He drunkenly told Vera the news and then warned that she’d better “git” before she got more than she came for.

That same night Sheree announced that she and Vernon needed a vacation. The girls could take care of Luna and hold the fort down. The most bizarre part was that their father agreed. When they returned from their long weekend away, he obviously felt bad about the decision, which was likely the only reason he bought that junker of a car for Vera’s senior year. Being a teenager, she readily forgave him ... until the next time.

Surviving that year and escaping to college had been her only hope for relief.

Looking back, she understood that Bent’s leaving had been for the best. She had buckled down and refocused on her schoolwork. Went off to college and lived mostly happily ever after—at least until recently.

At first, she’d felt bad for leaving Eve. But that had been the only choice at the time.

Was it her fault that Eve turned to drugs and alcohol?

No. Vera gritted her teeth. She refused to shoulder the full responsibility for what had clearly been her sister’s bad decisions and their father’s failure. He should have taken care of all his children. He stopped being concerned about Vera and Eve as soon as Sheree came into the picture. After Sheree was gone (and once he moved past the self-pity stage), his entire focus had been on Luna.

By the time Vera finished her undergrad work and started on her master’s, Eve had left home and started college herself. But time and time again she bombed and returned home to lick her wounds. When it was clear Eve needed rehab, despite their father’s denial, Vera took out a loan to ensure that happened. By then she had accepted a position at the Memphis Police Department.

It all seemed a lifetime ago now. Was, actually.

Vera washed out her mug and stared through the window above the sink. Bent had not responded to her text. She really needed to get a handle on what they’d found out there. If he wouldn’t share answers with her, then she’d just have to find them herself.

She was going back to that cave.

Mind made up, she grabbed her cell, slipped on her sneakers, and headed out the back door. She’d made it down the steps when a voice stopped her.

“Vera, you are one difficult lady to catch.”

Vera stopped in her tracks, swore silently, then forced herself to turn around. Her gaze collided with that of the woman who’d spoken. Patricia Patton. Top-of-the-heap reporter from Memphis’s ABC bureau. Here she was, standing in the Boyett backyard, in stilettos and a tight skirt and looking all sleek and polished, just like she did on the prime-time news every evening.

For Vera, the big question just this second was Where had her cameraperson hidden? He would be here somewhere. Her gaze darted around the yard. No sign of him.

“I spoke to your sisters as they were leaving for work,” Patton went on, “but they didn’t have much to say. I’ve been waiting more than an hour for you to make an appearance.”

“In our backyard,” Vera said, at last finding her voice. “You realize you’re trespassing.”

It wasn’t a question. The ambitious woman knew exactly what she was doing.

Patton smiled. “Well, you know how it is. It’s difficult to get ahead and stay there in this business without a little creative step here and there.”

Vera pulled off a smile, folded her arms over her chest, and lifted her chin. “Well, I applaud your creativity, Pat”—the woman hated, hated being called Pat—“but you’ll need to go back to the road like all the others.”

No cameraperson popped out from behind a crape myrtle or rosebush. Not yet, anyway.

“How are you handling the situation back in Memphis from here?” Patton asked, ignoring Vera’s order and choosing instead to follow her toward the barn.

Vera stopped and faced her. “You can either go now, or I will call a deputy to see that you do.”

Rather than depart as directed, Patton looked her up and down. “You have an in with the local cops, don’t you? Sheriff Benton. The two of you have a history.”

How the hell did she know about that? The thing she’d shared with Bent had not been common knowledge. It had been their secret. Vera decided the woman was bluffing.

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