Page 58 of Deeper Than the Dead

She raised her eyebrows at him. That sounded exactly like something the old Bent would have said.

“About the case,” he added. He held up three fingers with his thumb holding his pinkie finger down. “Scout’s honor.”

Vera rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.” Like he’d ever been a Boy Scout.

They climbed into his truck, and on the drive back to his place, she concentrated on trying to put Memphis out of her mind. She supposed she should be grateful that for her it was over, but somehow she couldn’t summon any gratitude.

No matter how many cases she had helped to close or how much hard work she had put in toward that effort, this single event would haunt her name forevermore in that department. Going back wasn’t an option. That life was over ... all because of a cheating, scumbag husband.

Since she’d cleared out her office when she left, no worries about that. The only detail hanging over her head in Memphis was her town house. The best option would be to pay out the lease and walk away. A moving company could pack up her things and ship them ... where?

Where the hell would she go?

Will—Chief Talbert—would give her a good recommendation, but that wouldn’t be worth all that much, with the situation in Memphis still dominating the news cycles. It would take time for the smoke to clear and for people to stop remembering her in association with a preventable tragedy.

As they turned onto Bent’s driveway, the landscape drew her from the painful thoughts. Vera leaned forward, not wanting to miss a single nuance of the picturesque view ... the way the trees stood against the sky. A bird dipping down to land on a limb. The horses galloping along the fence line, keeping pace with Bent’s truck. It was like a painting come to life.

“Even after two years, I ask myself every day, What the hell did I do to deserve this.”

She studied his profile a moment. When had he turned into such a sentimental guy? After he grew up, maybe, she realized. They had been just stupid kids two-plus decades ago. Kids with unhappy home lives who needed something or someone to grab onto. The truth was, she didn’t know Bent the man.

She looked away from him. The dead-last thing she needed to do was to get caught up in learning him.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Bent, but why are we here?”

He parked in front of the cottage. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He reached for his door and climbed out.

Vera did the same, just a little slower. The weight pressing down on her shoulders suddenly became all the clearer, all the heavier. She couldn’t salvage her career. Her family was all she had left just now, and protecting them was paramount.

Whatever she had to do ... whatever the cost.

Bent walked past the cottage, and she followed. That leisurely swagger somehow managed to draw her attention, despite current circumstances. She shook her head. She really was losing it.

His destination appeared to be a smaller structure. Sort of looked like a potting shed. What on earth would he be doing in a potting shed?

He unlocked the padlock on the door and reached in to turn on a light. Then he gestured for her to go in ahead of him.

She did. Even though she couldn’t deny that the ridiculous idea he planned to lock her in here for some reason kept playing in her head. Maybe to interrogate her. After all, he’d spent twenty years in the military. She was familiar with their interrogation techniques through her training with the CIA. Cold rushed over her skin despite the heat clinging to her clothing as she stepped inside.

Don’t be ridiculous, Vee. You are not afraid of this man.

She was only afraid of what he might discover during the course of his investigation.

As if the thought had guided her, her gaze landed on a large whiteboard on the far side of the room. Photos of the remains and the crime scene populated the board.

This was his home office.

A smile tugged at her lips as she relaxed a little. “Wow.”

She walked deeper into the climate-controlled space. There were two such boards. Both standing on wheeled legs. In addition to the photos, the first board was also covered with notes about the case. The final image on the second row of photos showed the most recent set of remains, with some amount of dark fleshy material that was a nasty combo of what had once been skin, organs, and other tissue. It was no doubt hard and crusty now, still working with the environment to disappear from the bones. If left on its own, it would likely be gone completely in a couple more years.

This was the victim from about three years ago. The proverbial wrench in the works.

The second whiteboard had a canvas tarp or drop cloth thrown over whatever was on it. “Very thorough work, Sheriff.”

“A little something I learned during my last five years in the army, working with CID.”

She turned to him. He’d removed his hat and tossed it onto a table she hadn’t even noticed standing in the middle of the room. A desk of sorts, she decided. There were bookcases too. File cabinets. Everything one needed to stay organized.

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