Page 7 of Deeper Than the Dead

Still not convinced, Vera forged on. “What about blackouts? I seem to recall you had a few of those.”

Eve nodded, her lips pursed tightly. “Yes. Some alcoholics have blackouts when they go on binges. I was one of them.”

Defeat twisted inside Vera. “Then you can’t say with any real confidence that you never told anyone.”

For a time her sister said nothing. Really, what was there to say? They could be in serious trouble here. Vera wondered if Eve had heard about Memphis. Probably. The story had been on the national news for three days now. But then Eve was not like other people. She wasn’t big on news. She read the obituaries. When asked about her obsession with reading obits, she insisted it was only to see who had picked the competition over her. According to Eve, funeral homes were very competitive.

Sometimes Vera worried that her sister had a far too unhealthy obsession with death and the dead, period. After what happened, she supposed it wasn’t so surprising. Just look at her own decision to go into law enforcement. She’d never once considered that route until her sophomore year at university, then suddenly it was all she could think about. If the full story came out, who wouldn’t see that as odd?

Vera let go a heavy breath. There were so many scattered pieces and unexpected turns related to what had once been their lives, she was no longer sure of anything.

“I,” Eve said finally, her voice firm, “have been sober for seven years. I would think that if I’d told anyone about what happened, this would have happened way before now.”

A reasonable expectation. Considering the way Eve used to drink, more often than not with other off-the-rails drunks, if she had told anyone, that person likely hadn’t remembered a word of the conversation.

“You’re right.” Vera turned to her. “I wasn’t thinking. And I certainly wasn’t trying to make you feel bad by bringing up those unpleasant parts of the past. It had to be done, that’s all.”

“Even if all is revealed”—Eve met her gaze—“what happened wasn’t our fault. We shouldn’t take the fall for a murder we didn’t commit.”

Vera scrubbed at the tension in her forehead. “Let’s hope it won’t come to that.” She recentered her thoughts in an effort to look at the situation objectively. “First thing we need is to know exactly what they’ve found and deemed as evidence.”

Sheree was dead, and her remains had been discovered. Nothing they could do about that now. At this point, it was all about damage control, which required objectivity and emotional distance.

“The three of us own this farm jointly,” she went on. “We have a right to know what’s happening on the property.” Vera set her hands on her hips. “I’ll go out there and demand a briefing. I’m sure Sheriff Fraley will oblige.”

Property owners had a right to be kept informed unless there was reason to keep certain details from public consumption or if one or all property owners became suspects. Things would change drastically at that point. Luna had obviously given permission for the local cops to search the cave and remove the remains. Vera would have done the same had she been here.

“That brings up something else you should know,” Eve said, drawing Vera from the uncomfortable but necessary thoughts.

“What?” What could be worse than their stepmother’s remains being found in the cave where they had put her cold, dead body all those years ago?

The memories flooded her before Vera could stop them. Water dripping everywhere. Luna screaming. Eve bellowing. Their father nowhere to be found.

She banished the memories. No looking back.

“The sheriff,” Eve said. “He’s someone you know.”

Well, duh. Fayetteville was a small town. Everyone knew everyone else. “How could I not know him? He and Daddy were close friends. Don’t you remember? His wife was our favorite teacher.” For Christ’s sake, Fraley was the one who conducted the investigation into Sheree’s disappearance.

Eve moistened her lips, as if what she had to say was going to burn or be too bitter to bear crossing over them without preparation. “There’s someone new now. Sheriff Fraley retired two years ago. A few months after Daddy had to be put in Hillside.”

“Oh.” Well damn. So much for having an in with local law enforcement. “Who replaced him?”

Eve held her gaze a moment before answering. Vera had a bad, bad feeling about what was coming next, if the dread in her sister’s expression was any measure.

“It’s Bent. Bent took his place.”

“What?” Vera felt confident she had heard wrong. The very notion was ridiculous.

“Bent is the sheriff now. He did his time in the military, retired actually, then came home and got elected as sheriff of Lincoln County a few months later.”

“Why did Sheriff Fraley suddenly retire? Is he ill?” The man had been sheriff of Lincoln County for nearly forty years. Mostly Vera asked this question because she could not—would not—allow the other information to assimilate completely just yet.

“Multiple sclerosis. Mrs. Fraley had to retire to take care of him. He’s like a hermit now. Rarely leaves the house.”

Vera flinched. Nodded her understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that.” This ... this Bent thing still didn’t make sense. In large part due to the fact that she didn’t want to accept the idea. As if that would make it cease to be. “Sheriff Fraley had no deputies interested in the position?”

“There was a big shake-up in the department,” Eve explained. “A couple of the senior deputies had gotten involved with some drug dealer out of Nashville. Evidently several others had taken bribes to look the other way. Bent has been working hard to rebuild the force since he took over. He had to do some serious housecleaning. It hasn’t been easy for him. He’s taken a lot of shit.”

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