Page 75 of Deeper Than the Dead

They sat for a while, silent, remembering. A rare late-July breeze provided some relief from the heat, stirring the leaves and reminding Vera of waking up on summer mornings to hear the soft wind chimes through her bedroom windows. Their mother had loved wind chimes. They were hanging everywhere around the house. Sheree hadn’t liked them very much. She claimed they kept her awake, and she intended to take them down. Eve came up with the idea to tell her that they warded off evil spirits. Sheree didn’t dare take one down after that.

The woman really had been naive in some ways.

Vera closed her eyes against the memories that flashed from that final day with Sheree. They had so much trouble getting her body to the cave and then inside. How the hell had someone put three others in there? Even deeper inside, at that?

“I have to get back to work.” Eve stood.

Vera exiled the memories and pushed herself to her feet. “Let me know if Suri has any luck finding those photographs.”

“Will do. Thanks for the update.” She scoffed. “Not really. I hate all this.”

Vera could not agree more. “Me too. But don’t worry. As long as we stick to our stories, we’ll get through this.”

“Famous last words,” Eve suggested. She waved as she walked away.

Unfortunately, her sister might be right about that one.

Fraley Farm

Jenkins Road, Fayetteville, 10:20 a.m.

Vera parked and sat for a moment. A truck was in the driveway. She hoped that was an indication the Fraleys were home.

She really hoped this was not a bad move, but since leaving the cemetery, she couldn’t stop thinking about her mother. She had been a very smart woman. A bright and perceptive woman. Vera just couldn’t see her being married to a man who secretly committed murder without suspecting something. The two had been so close. So happy ... until the cancer. Call it wishful thinking, but she couldn’t get past it ... not just yet anyway.

The more-probable scenario was that Vernon Boyett had allowed a friend to use the cave. Vera chewed her lip. But would he have done such a thing twice? The third time, the male victim, might have been a situation he knew nothing about. Just because her father had helped a friend once didn’t mean he had known about one or both of the other murders. The friend could have taken advantage of the situation. It was difficult to analyze without an iota of information about the victims.

Whatever the case, Vera simply could not see her father doing this and keeping it secret from her mother. Would he have risked allowing the situation to come back to haunt his wife and daughters? To destroy their lives?

Vera needed to speak with someone who had known her parents well enough to have some idea who such a friend might have been back in those days.

A friend who was also a murderer.

Someone ... anyone but her father. Possibly the unidentified male victim found in that crevice.

Mind made up, Vera opened her door and got out. By the time she reached the steps, the front door had opened, and Beatrice pushed open the screen door and walked out onto the porch.

“Vera, what a nice surprise.”

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced.” Vera smiled, fingers mentally crossed.

“Don’t be silly.” The older woman waved off the notion. “Walt’s having a nap. Last night was a rough one. Shall we sit on the porch and chat?”

“Perfect. I could use some fresh air.”

Beatrice settled into a rocking chair that looked much like the ones on the porch at home. Vera lowered into the second of the two, appreciated the ceiling fans that stirred the air, however slowly. The floral cushions and hanging ferns all reminded Vera of her mother’s decorating style. She and Beatrice had been good friends, after all. They likely shared ideas and inspiration.

“Tell me how I can help, Vee.” Beatrice set the rocker into a slow, easy motion.

She seemed so much more relaxed when she wasn’t with Florence Higdon. Who wouldn’t be?

“I don’t have to tell you,” Vera began, “how difficult the investigation related to Sheree and the other remains has been for my family.”

“I can only imagine,” Beatrice agreed. “It’s a terrible situation.”

Vera hesitated only a moment, then went for it. “One of the scenarios on the table, so to speak, is that my father allowed a friend to use the cave.”

The older woman nodded knowingly. “I can see something like that happening. Your father was always kind to everyone. Generous too.”

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