Page 9 of Deeper Than the Dead

“That’s the one,” Eve confirmed. “Anyway, when everyone went home, our parents thought I was going with our grandparents.”

They only had one set of grandparents around growing up. Their mother’s parents had divorced and moved away.

“Didn’t you?” Vera vividly remembered Eve staying with their grandparents often. Vera had preferred being home, but Eve had adored their paternal grandmother. They had a special bond. And the same nose. Vera’s lips twitched with the need to smile at the random thought.

“Not that time.” Eve shook her head. “That time I had fallen asleep under the chairs. Grandma thought I went home with Mama and Daddy. When I woke up, I was alone in the funeral parlor. The guy on duty was busy in the office with a girlfriend and hadn’t put the bodies away for the night. There were three in different parlors. By the time the guy got around to putting them away, he found me asleep—in one of the caskets with the deceased. He freaked out. Mama said when they picked me up, he was the one crying. I just kept saying that the lady in the casket said she was lonely, so I climbed in there with her.”

Vera had never heard that story. “Wow. Were you terrified?”

“I don’t really remember it, but probably not so much. I like dead people.” She breathed a laugh. “At this point, maybe more than the living.”

Vera wasn’t sure this was a good thing, but her sister had always marched to her own drumbeat. “I feel that way sometimes myself.” She exhaled a big breath, mostly at the idea of Gray Benton, a.k.a. Bent, being sheriff. “I should get out there. Find out what I can.”

Eve touched her arm. “You think we’ll be okay?”

Vera managed a smile. “We will.”

Probably a lie, but there was no need to assume the worst at this early stage.

Who knew? Maybe the new sheriff would prove their saving grace.

It was the least he could do after what he’d put Vera through all those years ago.

4

The Cave

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 5:50 p.m.

Sweat had beaded on Vera’s skin by the time she reached the outer perimeter of the site. Walking had seemed like the best idea. By far the most likely way to arrive at her destination without being spotted by reporters. Having reporters descend upon her would have been far worse than feeling hot and sticky and being under siege from the bees, wasps, and gnats. She’d swatted dozens from her personal space.

Eve had suggested she take the UTV. Their father had bought one of the utility vehicles for riding around the farm before the dementia had taken over. But Vera passed on the suggestion. The place where the remains had been found was maybe a mile and a half from the house. She ran three miles every day. The walk would be a piece of cake.

Yeah, right. The past few years she had spent so much time inside, either behind her desk or in conference rooms, she’d forgotten what it was like to walk through the woods in the heat of a summer afternoon. Even her workouts—including those three-mile runs she was so proud of—were done in a climate-controlled gym. Vera almost laughed at herself. No question about it. There was very little of the country girl left in her now. Give her air-conditioning and bottled vitamin water any time.

Still, this nightmare was happening here, and she had no choice but to take care of it here. Whatever she had to do, whatever she had to endure, she would ... and then what? Get back to her life?

What life?

She kicked the thought aside and focused on the path that had brought her to the most immediate problem. Even the yellow crime scene tape appeared to droop in the oppressive humidity and ruthless heat. No matter that the sun hovered just above the treetops, it was still as hot as blazes.

As kids, she and Eve had roamed this three-hundred-acre farm from end to end. They had explored every nook and cranny. Their mother would pack them a basket with sandwiches and treats and water and repeat the same instructions every time they left the house.

Don’t get separated. Watch for snakes. Drink your water. Get home before dark.

If Vera had ever taken the time to have children, she would never have allowed them to roam the woods this way. But her childhood had been a different time. A more innocent time. Snakes, bobcats, and coyotes had been their only concern. Everyone knew everyone else. There was no fear of being harmed by another human.

Funny how looking back, you realized the danger that was actually there all along.

Focus, Vee. Lurking around in the past would not keep her on her toes in the present.

The trees weren’t as thick this far beyond the barn. The soil was rockier. A near impossible place to think of burying anything. But the cave—more of a nook beneath a rock ledge—allowed for stashing things that needed hiding. She and Eve had figured that out even as kids.

Technically a ground cave, their secret place—as she and her sister had referred to it—rose from the hillside like a heavy-lidded gaze. The opening reminded her of one of those eyebrow windows she’d seen on historic homes in Buffalo, New York. For someone who hadn’t bothered to buy a home of her own, she was fascinated by historic architecture. So much so that anytime she traveled, nearly always for work, she took whatever architectural tours were offered. The one in Buffalo remained solidly in her top five. She went there for a joint conference between select law enforcement members and the CIA. No one demonstrated more creativity with interrogation techniques than the CIA. Vera was one of only fifty-nine representatives from departments across the country who were chosen to attend. Not that all the specialized training was going to help her now.

She blinked away the thought. This was not the time for distraction. Or a pity party. Life was complicated sometimes, and she had no right to feel sorry for herself when at least she was alive. Even if her life was burning down and she couldn’t seem to find a way to put out the fire, self-pity was for cowards.

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