Page 89 of Deeper Than the Dead

Eve poked her thumb into her chest, then pointed a finger at Vera. “We did.”

“Anyway,” Vera countered, opting not to respond to the comment, “the timeline is wrong for that to be a legitimate scenario. Sheree and her boyfriend Rimmey had no reason to know anything about this family until she set her sights on our daddy, and that was years later.”

“So, we’re screwed.” Eve propped her elbows on the table and plunked her head into her hands.

“Maybe more than we know.” Vera had at first thought she might not mention this to Eve, but it was best if they stayed completely open with each other. “Sheriff Fraley—Walt—said that the wives, Beatrice and Florence, always knew everything. They were his go-to informants for the gossip in Fayetteville.”

Eve harrumphed. “They don’t call Mrs. Higdon ‘the Radio’ for nothing.”

There was that. “Anyway, he insisted they were never wrong. Whatever info or theory they passed along always panned out ... except once. When Sheree died.”

A frown furrowed across Eve’s brow. “I’m assuming they had a theory.”

Vera nodded. “They were convinced it was us—you and me.”

Her sister’s eyes rounded. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I am really fucking serious.”

“What did Bent say?”

“Thank God he was outside taking a call at the time.” The thought stopped Vera. “But, I’m guessing Walt has told him this already. Which would explain why he’s always asking if we’re hiding something.” Or maybe he hadn’t and only told Vera because Bent was not around.

“So what do we do?”

“We both know what happened to Sheree,” Vera said. “We stick with our story. It’s the others that we need to figure out. I swear, my gut—my instincts—are telling me that one, probably our father, or both of our parents may have helped out a friend. It’s making more and more sense.”

Eve eyed her for a moment. “You really think that’s a possibility?”

“It’s the only one that makes sense—beyond the idea that some random person just happened to find the cave and start using it as his dump site. Maybe this Norton Gates.”

“I guess you’re right.” Her sister picked up her cell and started to scroll.

Vera hated this feeling that there was a wall or a door between them at pivotal moments like this ... that there was more Eve needed to say but wouldn’t for whatever reason. When she started scrolling on her phone, she was done.

“I really need you to tell me,” Vera urged, “if you recall anything I should know. Any little thing. It could be important, and you just don’t realize it. Something you saw one of them do or overheard one of them say. We need to be ahead of anything that might be found by the FBI.”

“I get it,” Eve snapped. Then she took a breath. “Look, we’ve been over this. I’ve told you all I know.” She frowned at her phone. “Shoot. Gotta go. Suri needs my help with a late arrival. She’s waiting for me outside.” She tucked her phone away. “We do that sometimes. Help each other out when a late one comes in and the family needs them ready to go ASAP.”

“You’re coming back tonight, right?” Vera certainly hoped she was. This thing had just escalated to critical. “I was thinking we might look through photo albums and see if anything sparks a memory.”

“Can we do that tomorrow night?” Eve was backing out of the kitchen. “If I make it back tonight it’ll be late.”

“Okay. Tomorrow then.”

“For sure.”

Eve pivoted but then faced Vera once more. “The security people can’t come until next week. Bent won’t like it.”

Vera waved her off. “I’ll tell him.” Eventually.

“Thanks.” Eve hurried away.

“Lock the door,” Vera called after her.

She sat for a moment. Listened to the sound of emptiness in the house. Tried to ignore the numerous voices urging her to see what she did not want to see. Then she straightened.

She had research to do. Who was Norton Gates? Who was Teresa Russ? How did they play into all this?

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