Page 61 of Deeper Than the Dead

“It means preparation is the key,” he said. His lips tilted upward slightly at her startled expression. “I watched an interview where you said that. I want to be prepared before I go tossing out scenarios to another agency.”

She couldn’t argue the point. “It’s a good strategy.” Deep breath. “There’s always the possibility that the male victim killed the three females. Then, years later, someone close to one or all three learned his identity and had his or her revenge.” She watched for his reaction. It was as reasonable a theory as any other.

“Maybe. There’s still a lot to learn about the other victims,” he admitted. “We believe the two female victims found together were possibly best friends. We believe the male vic may have attended the University of Alabama—based on the ring he wore.”

She moved closer to the board, studied the photos of the crime scene. “Where are the photos of the rings and the necklaces you mentioned before?”

He withdrew his cell. “I didn’t stop by the office and pick them up, but I have them here.” He passed her the phone.

Vera studied each of the photographs. The cross necklaces ... the rings the women wore ... and lastly the college ring that belonged to the male. “Is that God in the inscription?”

Bent chuckled. “Yeah, Conover and I have a bet as to whether it was a nickname for how he viewed himself or an indication of his faith.”

Vera noted the manufacturer and the year. “It’s not much.” She handed the phone back to him. “But it’s something. I’m just not clear on how this will help you with finding out who killed Sheree—unless it’s the same killer?”

“Maybe it will help,” he said. “Maybe it won’t. I just need more time.”

How could she tell him that no amount of time would change the facts surrounding what happened to Sheree?

She couldn’t ... not for any reason.

21

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 7:30 p.m.

Luna was waiting just inside the front door when Bent dropped Vera off at the house.

“It’s all over the news,” she said, her hands wrung together in front of her as if she were praying fervently. “Please tell me this awful, awful story about more remains being found isn’t true.”

Beyond Luna, Eve lingered, watching. When she saw that Vera was watching her, she shrugged and gestured to their younger sister.

“Let’s go in the kitchen and sit down to talk about this.” Vera couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so utterly exhausted. She had to find a way to remedy this situation that would allow what was left of her family to remain intact.

Was that even possible at this point?

Luna searched Vera’s face, as if she expected some answer to be spelled out there. Finally, she nodded and turned away. She wrapped her arms around herself and headed in that direction.

“She’s not taking this very well,” Eve said, with a lingering look after her.

Vera paused next to Eve. “We have to talk.” Eve looked at her. “Privately.” Vera gestured to the kitchen. “As soon as we get Luna calmed down.”

Eve nodded. “’Kay.”

The two of them walked side by side to the kitchen. Luna had settled onto a stool, still hugging herself.

Where was her fiancé? Jerome should be here, reassuring her.

Vera took the stool on the opposite side of the table from Luna. Eve slid onto a seat at the end to Vera’s left. Vera looked from one to the other and decided that putting off what had to be said wouldn’t help.

“A reporter, a guy Luna knew in high school,” Eve said, before Vera could start, “from the Elk Valley Times came to the funeral home.”

Vera’s stomach twisted into knots. “Did you talk to him?”

Eve shook her head. “I did not. But then he went to the library and upset Luna.”

Vera looked to their younger sister. “Did you speak with him, Lu?”

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