Page 12 of Closer Than You Know

And get on Vera’s last nerve.

A set of stairs inside the quadruple garage led up to the apartment. Elizabeth certainly wouldn’t have wanted her son to use exterior stairs. He might get wet in the rain or cold in the winter. This way he could drive right into the garage and have the entrance to his home nearly right in front of him.

No wonder the guy still lived at home.

The snow had melted from the streets and sidewalks already. About all that remained was the white stuff around the bases of trees and against the foundations of homes. Anyplace there was a shady spot. The temperature was already heading toward forty, so none of it would last much longer.

At the top of the garage stairs, there was a small landing and the door to the apartment. Bent went in first to check the place.

Vera rolled her eyes. As if she couldn’t protect herself if someone was hiding inside. Oh well, let him play the hero. She’d spent enough time struggling with perps during her time at the Memphis Police Department. She had nothing to prove.

Except maybe the idea that she usually didn’t miss the little things that led to disaster.

No looking back, Vee.

It was basically impossible to look back on her career without seeing the bad.

“It’s clear,” Bent said, snapping her back to attention.

She nodded and walked into the apartment.

Based on the size of the garage, it was no surprise there was a relatively large main living area as well as two bedrooms and two bathrooms in the apartment. From the sleek hardwood floors to the cozy furnishings and modern light fixtures, the place was like walking onto the pages of an interior design magazine. No expense had been spared to create this warm and inviting space.

Nothing was too good for Mama’s little boy.

“Does he have an office here?” she asked.

“Carl said the second bedroom doubles as an office.”

“I’ll take that room.” She headed toward the hall.

“Course you will.”

She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. He held her gaze a moment before shooting her one of his own trademark grins and then moving on to prowl around the main living space.

Bent knew her too well.

She often wondered if allowing him closer would only lead to disaster, considering the secret she kept for her sister.

The odds of him never finding out weren’t that good either way. Still, when it came to her sister, Vera had decided that Eve’s secrets were best explored on an as-needed basis. No need to go looking for trouble.

That worry was for another time. Vera dismissed the troublesome subject and surveyed the room Nolan Baker used as a home office.There was no file cabinet or credenza, just a desk and a bookcase. Vera sat down at the desk and reached for the middle drawer. It was filled with pens, pencils, sticky notes. The usual ... she paused in her search, surveyed the surface of the desk. Typical desk blotter—no notes written on the white expanse—but there was aphone. Nolan had a landline. Who had landlines anymore? She visually traced the line to the wall, where it connected to an old-fashioned jack. A real landline, not the kind that came with internet or cable service.

Not surprising, really. The house his parents lived in was one of the town’s most treasured historic homes. On the same highly sought-after street as former Judge Preston Higdon’s in fact. Vera rolled her eyes. Another pompous ass. Anyway, these houses would have been hardwired for phones decades before cell phones and Wi-Fi phones were invented.

When she closed the middle drawer, she paused a second time. There was a voicemail on the answering machine. Not a new one but one he’d listened to and hadn’t deleted. Might be from the person who’d invited him to last night’s meeting. Maybe not deleting that message was Nolan’s way of leaving a breadcrumb just in case.

Vera pressed Play.Tuesday, 6:45 p.m.Only a few hours before Nolan disappeared.

“Mr. Baker.”

Female voice. Vera frowned. Sounded vaguely familiar. The volume was set so low that she had to lean forward to hear better.

“This is Teresa Russ returning your call. Yes, I can be available to meet with you tomorrow if you’d like to make an appointment.” There was a pause. “I can’t promise I’ll share what I’ve learned so far, but if you want to talk about the Norton Gates case, I’m willing to listen. You have my number.”

The thud in Vera’s chest stole her breath for three, four, five seconds.

Russ was a private investigator that Vera had encountered before. Apparently she, and maybe Nolan, too, were investigating Norton Gates—the college professor whose remains had been tucked into acrevice in that damned cave. The man Vera’s sister Eve had killed. Well, that sounded worse than it was ... Eve hadn’t just randomly killed him. The man had tried to rape Suri—he’d sexually abused her when she was his student—and Eve had stopped him the only way she could at the time. With a cast-iron skillet to the back of the head.

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