Page 99 of Deeper Than the Dead

“No way. I’m ready when you are, Vee.”

“Good. We need to talk in person. I can be at your place in an hour.”

33

Benton Ranch

Old Molino Road, Fayetteville, 3:25 p.m.

Vera stood next to her SUV and waited for Bent to arrive.

The manilla folder in her hand felt as hot as the sun beating down on her. This late into July was like hell on earth in the South. Didn’t help that her life suddenly felt exactly like it had gone straight to hell. Part of her wanted to burn this file and pretend she’d never heard of Teresa Russ. It would be so easy to take the stand that none of what was in that cave was in any way relevant to her family.

But it was ... Sheree had been married to their father. Mother to their youngest sister. Killed—possibly murdered—in their home. And the whole thing covered up by the dead woman’s two stepdaughters.

All this time Vera had been so certain that what happened that day was just as Eve told her. An accident. Eve had been trying to protect Luna. But what if the whole thing had been staged—a lie. What if their father had killed Sheree because she had started cheating again and refused to leave? He’d admitted right in front of Bent that he had said those things to Sheree!

Vera groaned. That just couldn’t be true. But it wasn’t impossible. She knew that Eve had been hiding something from her. The discovery at Calhoun College had at first convinced her that the connection between Suri and Gates was Eve’s secret.

But then, after hearing Russ’s story, Vera had spent the past hour on the road obsessing on the possibility that there had been other women in her father’s life before Sheree. Had Vernon Boyett murdered Latesha when she grew too demanding? And then her friend when she’d come poking around? It was an easy leap from there to the idea that he had come home that day and murdered Sheree. Eve would have protected him. No question.

Just as their mother may have protected him.

Memories of her childhood rushed through Vera’s mind like old eight-millimeter film on an out-of-control reel. They had been so happy before. Until the death of their mother, she and Eve had enjoyed the picture-perfect childhood. Vera would have been thirteen when the first woman went missing and fourteen when her friend disappeared. Surely she would have recognized if something was wrong between her parents.

How could she not have seen this level of evil in her father?

And how the hell did Gates fit into it? Certainly, he was no “sugar daddy” from Fayetteville. Bearing in mind what she had learned from Russ, he likely had nothing to do with the other female victims.

Bent’s truck rounded the curve in his long driveway, roaring past the meadow where the horses grazed. Vera wanted to feel relieved that he was finally here, but that only meant one thing—she had to tell him what she’d learned from Russ.

Bent had been right about this coming down to her family. The most credible scenario in this whole mess was narrowing in on her family. And the FBI would recognize it soon, if they hadn’t already. She had to trust Bent ... there was no one else who could help.

Bent parked, climbed out of his truck, and walked toward her.

Vera’s heart reacted to the sight of him ... to the way he walked ... to that damned hat he wore that made her want to rip it off his head and ...

She was losing her grip ... clearly.

“I don’t have any updates,” he said as he closed in on her.

His voice ... she had always been affected by his voice. The deep, steady sound of it. It made her feel safe and warm and made her want to ...

Stop! Damn it.

“I have one.” Her own voice sounded hollow and fearful. What the hell? She’d been back here only a few days, and already she’d regressed decades. Where was the fearless analyst who’d solved so many cases? Didn’t matter. She waved the folder.

“You want to go inside and talk about it?” His eyes searched hers.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

He waited, let her lead the way to where she wanted to go. What she wanted was to go into his house and into his bed and lose herself for a few hours. But that would be a monumental mistake, and it wouldn’t fix the problem.

Instead, she walked around the house to his home office. He followed closely enough for her to feel his presence, but he didn’t crowd her or rush her.

When they reached the former potting shed, she stepped aside while he unlocked the door and pushed it inward. Inside was cool. Vera was grateful for the reprieve. Bent turned on the overhead light, chasing away the shadows lurking in the corners of the space.

---