Page 30 of Deeper Than the Dead

“Did these confrontations,” he asked, choosing his words carefully, “ever become physical?”

Vera recognized where he was going with his questions. “No. Never.”

“You’re sure,” Bent pressed. “Just so you know, I reviewed the case file thoroughly, and there were folks who stated that they saw Sheree with bruises on more than one occasion and with a black eye once.”

“What folks?” Vera demanded.

“Folks who knew Sheree back then,” he explained. “There were witness statements in her case file. Sheriff Fraley had taken statements from several of her friends after she disappeared.”

“What friends? Sheree had no friends, as far as I recall.”

“There were a couple of women who frequented the same places she did who claimed to be her friends,” Bent explained. “One has since died, and the other moved away.”

Vera waved her hands, dismissing the idea entirely. “I’m sure she had so-called friends that she hung with, but not a single one ever came around here. Any bruises or black eyes these friends saw came from whatever Sheree did during all those times she disappeared, leaving me and my little sister to take care of her baby. Daddy would never have hit her.”

“You and Eve weren’t home all the time,” Bent reminded her.

“I am telling you unequivocally that he did not hurt that woman. He would have done anything to keep her happy, but that was an impossible task for any mere mortal.” Her frustration and disgust were showing, but she didn’t care. This was the truth.

Bent picked up the mug and cradled it in both hands. “Still, I have to talk to him. See what he remembers.”

Vera laughed. “Good luck with that. Most days he doesn’t even remember his name.” Funny how it was so much easier to laugh a little rather than to stop and think about the fact that her father was for all intents and purposes gone. But then, really he’d left a long time ago.

“But, professionally speaking, you understand that I have to try.” He knocked back a slug of coffee without ever breaking their mutual gaze. His eyes were the palest blue.

Not what she needed to be thinking about just now.

As for his question, yes, as an investigative analyst, she understood—even if she didn’t like it. “I do.”

He set his mug aside. “Then you’ll consent to the questioning and go with me?”

She turned her hands up. “Sure. I will gladly help you waste your time.” She was being overly sarcastic, but it was true. Unless, of course, her father said something odd, the way he had last evening. She supposed it was a necessary risk. Better that he be questioned by the devil she knew. “I’ll have to run it by Eve and Luna first.”

“What about allowing me to have a look around the house? Maybe a check of his room to see if there’s anything that might tell us what the two of them were up to just before she vanished. A note. A receipt. Something.”

Vera needed to buy some time on that one too ... just in case. “Again, I’ll have to talk to my sisters first. Make sure the idea is okay with them.”

He gave a nod. “I appreciate your help.”

Despite her efforts to stay completely calm, her pulse had started to gain momentum. This was really happening. The realization still startled her.

This situation was the last thing she needed at the moment.

And this man ... her first love ... was the last person she needed to do this with. Yes, it was possible he could be an asset, but he could also make her vulnerable. She hadn’t realized until just this moment how much he still affected her.

“Of course.” She straightened. The urge to search her father’s bedroom was suddenly pounding in her veins. He wasn’t the only one who’d had arguments with Sheree. Vera and Eve had gone head to head with her many times, particularly after the birth of Luna. Vera was fairly positive Sheree wasn’t the journaling type, but she wasn’t going to assume anything. The absolute wrong thing an investigator could do was to operate on assumptions.

She’d given Bent something he wanted, so maybe now was the perfect time to introduce that other suspect option—the one that wasn’t her father.

“Do you remember a man named Garth Rimmey?” he asked before she could.

She barely kept her jaw from falling slack. Apparently they were on the same wavelength. “I remember there was talk that Sheree was involved with him before. He wasn’t happy that she’d married Daddy. Otherwise, the only thing I know is that he was a bad guy.”

“He was a piece of shit,” Bent confirmed. “He died not long after Sheree disappeared—four or five days, I think. Fraley was always after him. He was suspected of selling drugs and other things, but he was never caught with the goods.”

He scrubbed at his jaw. Vera watched the movement with far too much interest.

“This was all hearsay,” he went on. “No one would admit they’d bought anything from him. Too scared to do so, I imagine. The rumors you heard were right, he and Sheree were involved. It was mostly off and on. He would beat the hell out of her, and she’d leave him, then end up going back. This went on from the time she was sixteen until she married your daddy. Some say Rimmey put her up to go after Vernon just to get money, but there was no evidence confirming the stories.”

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