Page 5 of Deeper Than the Dead

“Later,” Vera warned. “When we can speak privately.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She executed an about-face and marched to the kitchen, like the little girl she’d once been who had blamed God for their mother dying on them.

A wide center hall led from the front door to the kitchen, which spanned the back of the house. Near the front of the hall was the staircase that climbed to the second floor. Along the way to the kitchen on alternating sides were the main parlor—or “living room,” as they’d always called it—a dining room that was only used on holidays and special occasions, their mother’s library, and a downstairs powder room. But it was the kitchen where they had spent most of their time.

The scent of freshly baked cookies filled the room even before Luna drew a baking pan from the oven. She settled it onto the table and then tugged off the oven mitts. Luna was a stress baker. Anytime she was upset or worried, her Betty Crocker side came out—so, so unlike Sheree. Luna’s gaze met Vera’s, and her lips trembled.

They met in the center of the room and hugged.

Vera drew back and managed a smile. “How are you?”

Luna lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I waffle between feeling wildly elated and utterly sad.” She shrugged again. “I mean, the idea that she might still be alive and residing somewhere was always in the back of my mind. I’ve lived with the real possibility that she abandoned me my entire life.”

“But she didn’t,” Vera said. “You know that now.” This was the upside. No one should spend a lifetime feeling unwanted.

Luna nodded. “But now I can’t stop thinking about how she died. Did she suffer? It’s a horrible feeling.” Her hands went to her flat belly. “Like being torn apart inside.”

“Completely understandable,” Vera assured her. “Just try to be calm and patient. I’m sure we’ll know more soon.”

Eve wandered to the big table in the center of the room that had always served as a sort of island and an informal dining spot. She leaned against it, picked up a cookie, and studied it. “Vee’s right,” she said before taking a bite. When she’d swallowed, she went on. “It won’t take long for the cause of death to be determined.”

Luna hugged her arms around herself. “The sooner I have all the details, the sooner I can put the not knowing behind me. But all these new questions keep popping into my head now. Like, who did this and why. How could she be dead all this time and the police not have figured it out?”

Vera pasted an understanding smile in place and prayed, for her little sister’s sake, the investigation would not drag out. Having been gone for twenty-one years, she had no idea who any of the sheriff’s deputies were. Unless things had changed, the remains would be sent to Nashville for official identification and determination of cause of death. A forensic detail for gathering and analyzing evidence would be sent down from Nashville as well, unless Lincoln County had gotten one of its own. Not likely. Eve would surely have mentioned as much. She generally kept Vera up to speed on those sorts of happenings around town.

As if Eve had known Vera was thinking of her, their gazes collided. Ice crusted her insides. This long-buried thing between them was no longer just between the two of them. Everyone would know now. Vera’s throat struggled with the difficulty of swallowing.

Everyone would have questions. Lots and lots of questions. But for Vera, there was only one that really mattered.

Had she and Eve left behind any incriminating evidence all those years ago?

3

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 5:00 p.m.

Vera watched as the massive black pickup truck owned by Luna’s future husband drove away. Why did anyone need a truck that large? It was a miracle her petite sister could even climb in without assistance. It was an even bigger miracle Luna had fallen for a hard-core country boy. From the time she was in kindergarten, all she’d talked about was being a ballerina in New York City. She had loved ballet. Their father had certainly gone to endless lengths to ensure she’d had all the necessary lessons.

The man had dragged that child all over the Southeast for competitions as she’d gotten older. Thank God Vera had been in Memphis by then, building her career.

The one that fell apart last week ...

She forced the thought away and focused on the developing situation here. Not that it was a safer place to land, mentally speaking. Maybe not in any respect. But it was somehow easier—at least for now.

“She gone?”

Eve’s voice made Vera jump. She turned from the window. Her sister was a few inches shorter than her. Their mother had always said that Vera snagged a little extra height from her father’s side of the family.

“She and Jerome are off to the funeral home to pick out a casket,” Vera said in answer. There was no way to guess when the remains would be released, but Luna preferred being prepared. Vera desperately hoped she wasn’t planning some sort of elaborate funeral.

Eve shrugged. “I’m surprised she didn’t insist we help with picking out the casket.”

Vera grunted her agreement. It was a miracle—one for which she was immensely grateful.

Eve walked to the window and stared, probably, like Vera, at nothing. Their vehicles were there ... but not much else beyond the collage of blooms scattered across the landscape. There was the heat that wouldn’t abate until well after dark—the signs of it showed in the wilted leaves and drooping blossoms.

No sign of reporters, thankfully.

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