Page 41 of Deeper Than the Dead

“What happened in Memphis?”

As much as she’d enjoyed his story about buying this place, she had no desire to talk to anyone here or anywhere else about what happened in Memphis. The news media was doing a bang-up job of that for her. She couldn’t wait to see what they made of today’s development.

“You don’t watch the news?” she tossed back, rather than give any sort of response.

“What gets reported isn’t always what really happened.” His gaze rested on hers. “I want to know what really happened. From you.”

She supposed if she expected him to keep sharing with her, she needed to do the same. But not about this. “It’s a difficult situation, and at this point, my attorney has advised me not to talk about it to anyone.”

When had she become such a consummate liar? She hadn’t spoken to an attorney yet. No matter that her police union rep had urged her to do exactly that, she simply hadn’t been able to go there. The truth was, maybe she didn’t deserve an easy way out of this.

If Bent had said something—“okay” or “I see”—she might have been able to move on and change the subject. But he didn’t. Instead, he watched her ... just watched her and waited for a real answer.

Vera took a breath, let it go. “I made a mistake.”

The statement hung in the tension that swirled inside her, around her, despite her best efforts to tamp it down. Again he said nothing, just waited for her to go on.

“I should have noticed the trouble with a member of the team, but I didn’t. I mean, I did, but I thought she was okay. I should have recognized she wasn’t. Two people are dead, and it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t allowed my friendship with a team member to override my judgment.”

“One thing I’ve learned”—he crumpled his burger wrapper and tossed it back into the bag—“is sometimes we can’t see what’s right in front of us.” He inclined his head and studied her. “It isn’t always about being blind or distracted. It’s about not wanting to believe what we see.”

Valid point. “Unfortunately, dead is dead, and no amount of rationalizing will bring those people back.” She couldn’t finish her burger, pushed it aside. “And someone has to answer for that. It was my job to see, and I didn’t.” She wadded the remainder of the burger in the paper and placed it into the bag. To prevent herself from fidgeting, she placed her clasped hands in her lap and held on tight for whatever was coming next.

“I’m sorry. I know this is difficult.”

She drummed up a grateful expression. “Thanks.” Subject change. “What’s the situation at the cave now? Two more sets of remains were found. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“You want some coffee?” He pushed back his chair and stood, clearly wanting coffee himself.

“Sure.” Why not feed more caffeine to her jangling nerves?

He placed the grounds in the filter, poured water into the reservoir, and started the process. Then leaned against the counter next to the coffee maker and settled his gaze on hers. “There are similarities between the sets of remains.”

“Between the two found in the other cavern?” That had to be what he meant. Those two could not be related in any way to Sheree.

“Between all three.”

Vera’s heart nearly stopped. “What sort of similarities?”

“All the victims are female, and all were posed similarly. Rocks were placed on the bodies in an effort, I imagine, to prevent them being bothered or dragged off by animals.”

The memory of piling rocks on Sheree’s body flashed in her head. “Okay.”

“Their arms were folded over their abdomens before the rocks were piled on, but more telling were the things left with the remains.”

His words had her heart lunging into a gallop. “What sort of things?” She thought of Sheree’s handbag and her suitcase. Tendrils of tension riddled with trepidation stretched through her.

“Crosses on chains.” He touched his throat. “Necklaces. They each had one, and they were all exactly the same. Silver plated, thin chains, all a bit rusty now.”

Vera felt hot and then icy cold. She could see Eve leaving a cross necklace on Sheree’s remains ... but she couldn’t have on the others. It wasn’t possible. “How long”—she paused, steadied her voice—“have the two in the second cavern been there? Any ideas on the timeline?”

“One, we believe, has been there twenty-five years, maybe less. She was wearing two rings. One was a silver band—the real thing—and there was a date inscribed inside. August first, twenty-five years ago. The other was silver also, but it was one of the best friends rings teenagers buy each other.”

She nodded, the movement jerky. “I know the kind you mean.”

“This is the part that you’re going to find interesting.” He said this with a knowing look. “The other vic was wearing the matching ring.”

“Which suggests they knew each other,” Vera proposed. “Is the estimate on her time of death the same?”

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