Page 47 of Deeper Than the Dead

“And keep pretending like we don’t know anything?”

Vera drew in a big breath. “We don’t know anything. What happened to Sheree has nothing to do with the other victims.”

Eve’s expression clouded. “What if we’re wrong and Daddy is a serial killer? Maybe he had it under control for all those years and then the dementia set him off, so he killed the last victim? He didn’t argue when we decided to put him in Hillside. It was like he was glad to go.”

The worst thing about her sister’s suggestion was that it could be true.

17

Wednesday, July 24

Methodist Church

Elk Avenue, Fayetteville, 7:30 a.m.

Eve sometimes wondered why she bothered with this.

The meetings were more for Suri and Vee than for Eve. She had stopped needing Alcoholics Anonymous ages ago. If she said this to Suri or to Vee, they would think she was crazy. Maybe she was. But she had found the way to assuage her needs, and alcohol was not the answer any more than the other drugs she had tried.

She surveyed the gathered group that sat before her. Most of them were people she had known her whole life. Some were from outside the county. Those were the ones who didn’t want their neighbors or friends and family to be aware of their AA attendance. In her opinion, those were also the ones who would more likely fail. Based on Eve’s experience, people who felt the need to hide their problems were the ones who never stayed sober.

But who was she to judge?

Seated in the back, away from the others, was Bent.

He only came occasionally. Since he’d come last week, she figured he had some other reason for coming today. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have come on another day of the week. Wednesdays were her day to lead. He knew she would be here, and he probably had questions, which meant she’d have to figure out how to answer them. The knack to providing satisfactory answers—even when not being completely truthful—was in the ability to respond without hesitation. So, while the attendees in the circle talked about their battles, she mulled over how to answer what Bent would most likely ask.

She liked Bent. He was kind of like the brother she never had. After her mom died, he’d made it a point to be extra nice to Eve. In part maybe because he had been screwing her sister. But Eve hadn’t cared. She’d needed someone to show some level of attention to her, especially since her daddy had been reliving his youth with Sheree and Vee had been busy proving she could feel something.

They’d all had their issues.

When Bent left town, and with Sheree and baby Luna the only things their father cared about, Eve started sneaking around to get high. Even Vee didn’t know. Eve stayed over with friends whose parents kept liquor in the house. She did a lot of things to get her hands on alcohol. Her sister didn’t lose her virginity until she was sixteen, nearly seventeen. Eve, on the other hand, did before she was fourteen. She had no other tradeable assets, and she needed alcohol or whatever—something to ease the pain.

Trevor Redmond stopped talking, and Eve forced an affirming nod. “Thank you for sharing, Trevor.” It wasn’t necessary to hear his story. It was the same every time. His latest girlfriend had dumped him, and no one—relative or friend—would let him stay over anymore. He’d passed out and pissed on their sofas too many times. Now he slept in his truck in front of their houses.

It was sad. But at least he was coming here and saying the words. That was something.

Eve forced herself to pay some measure of attention as one after the other had a turn at spilling whatever was on his or her mind. She didn’t wait for Bent to speak up. He never did. Just showed up once in a while and listened. Maybe it was his way of reminding himself that his life didn’t suck as much as he thought. Maybe to prove he was a sheriff for all in the community.

Or maybe just because he had nothing better to do.

When the meeting was over and the dozen gathered had wandered out, Eve started the cleanup. Whoever was in charge made sure that was done before leaving. Most of the attendees tossed their coffee cups in the trash and put away their chairs, but some didn’t. Bent took care of the remaining chairs while Eve removed the trash bag from the can. Whenever Bent showed up, he always helped. Eve had figured out that part of the reason he did was so he could ask questions about Vee. He didn’t ask about her every time he came, but nearly every time.

“Did you get your car back?” he asked as he put away the last chair.

“Friday,” she said, grateful for an easy question. “Luckily Mr. Garner was able to find used parts, so the cost wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

Bent picked up his hat from the table where the stack of flyers about the AA program sat. “Mr. Garner was close friends with your daddy back before your mother passed.”

“He was.”

Vee had let Eve know that Bent was asking questions about their father. No big surprise. There had been plenty of that back when Sheree first disappeared. But Sheriff Fraley had known Vernon Boyett since they were schoolboys, and nothing would have made him believe his old friend would ever hurt another human. Except he had. He’d hurt Eve and Vee. But he hadn’t really meant to. He’d just been easing his grief the only way he thought would work. They’d all done that in one way or another.

“The Garners helped out for a while after she was gone,” Eve went on, hoping to direct the conversation rather than allow Bent to go where he would. “His wife cooked for us for weeks.”

“Until,” Bent said, “Garner and your daddy had a falling out.”

Eve cringed inwardly. Damn it. She’d forgotten about that stupid incident. Mrs. Garner had come around so much her husband had gotten jealous. He and his lifelong friend—Eve and Vera’s daddy—had a very public argument about how much of Mrs. Garner’s attention he was getting. They worked it out soon after, but no one forgot the incident. Folks would be talking and trying to remember every little thing from that time frame. As Vee would say, it was human nature.

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