Page 18 of Closer Than You Know

He pushed himself to his feet. “You may rest assured that I will.” He looked away for a moment, then said, “Was his cell phone found?”

Text messages and/or photos. She got it. They were the riskiest elements that should never be part of a secret.

“No. It was not.”

The hope in his brown eyes vanished. The man had nice eyes. Not to mention he was tall with dark hair. Nolan had good taste.

“As I said, I work with the sheriff’s department. Closely. The sheriff and I are old friends. If the cell phone shows up ...”

His gaze lit once more. “There ... might be photos. We’re careful, but ...”

“Don’t worry,” Vera said. “I’m sure there won’t be any photos of concern discovered.”

He nodded. “That would be very good. And I will be in your debt.”

He surely would. “Thank you. I’ll let you know when we find him.”

“Please do ... he ...”

Vera nodded.

She understood.

Now she had even more reason to find Nolan Baker.

She needed the leverage just in case his investigative skills were sharper than Vera thought.

8

Baker ResidenceMulberry Avenue, Fayetteville, 3:30 p.m.

Bent was in a meeting.

To her credit, Vera had attempted to return his calls—not once but twice. Both times, the call went to voicemail. As she had arrived back in Fayetteville from her interesting and potentially useful trip to Huntsville, she’d called Bent’s assistant, Myra. At the moment he was on a conference call with TBI and the local brass. Apparently, a meeting between Bent, Fayetteville’s chief of police, and the mayor had been set for 3:00 p.m. According to Myra, Bent had tried to reach her so she could attend the meeting with him.

At least now she knew what his calls had been about. Nothing new on the case, unless of course something came out of the meeting. He would fill her in later. She wouldn’t mention the fact that she was exceedingly happy she’d been unavailable for the meeting. Those sorts of torturous events were just one more thing she did not miss about her former career. The politics of police work was something she could live the rest of her life without.

She stared at the mansion that stood at the end of the long driveway. Vera would wager that Elizabeth had watched this house for years in hopes it would become available. The instant the previous owner had passed away or decided to move for whatever reason, she probablyrushed to any remaining family and made a ridiculously generous offer to ensure the home was hers. Nothing wrong with going after what she wanted. Elizabeth had gotten the guy she wanted too. She was an only child whose father had owned the bank her husband now owned and operated. The ambitious woman left nothing to chance.

Made sense she would do the same for her only child. He’d graduated from the University of Tennessee just as his parents had. But since returning home one year ago, the job offers from larger outlets hadn’t materialized. His work at theElk Valley Timeswas a good way to gain experience for his résumé, but that would never be suitable enough for Elizabeth. She would want more for him.

Vera suspected Nolan had inherited that sense of determination from his mother. He’d shown his true colors during the investigation into the remains found on the farm. In Vera’s opinion it was absolutely plausible that he would attempt to use the Time Thief case to his benefit. What better way than to become a victim himself? What was the real perp going to do? File a complaint? Cry foul? Unless, of course, Nolan was the Time Thief. She actually had considerable difficulty seeing him in that role. It was a potential scenario, of course.

And if Nolan had taken the liberty of putting himself in the position of victim, the actual perp might very well react in a manner not consistent with his MO. Unfortunately, that was the prospect Nolan may have failed to consider. He could very well cause the real perp to commit a more egregious act to wrestle back the lost attention and regain control of the narrative.

Vera emerged from her SUV and closed the door. She shivered as the chilly air cut through her. Though the snow was gone, the wind remained sharp. Spring couldn’t come soon enough for her. Walking quickly, she headed to the front entrance of the Baker home. By the time she climbed the steps, the door had opened and Elizabeth stood in the doorway. Though to Vera’s knowledge she didn’t have an actual job, Elizabeth dressed as if she was expected at a very important meeting. Black fitted trousers and a cream-colored sweater, topped by a matchingscarf that swirled around her neck like a puffy noose. Her hair and makeup were impeccable—even her red lipstick looked fresh.

“Is there news?” Her voice quivered ever so slightly.

The mixture of fear and hope on her face had Vera doubting her theory for a second or two. But then, this woman had always been a very good actress. Besides, there was a chance Elizabeth was unaware of what her son was up to—assuming he was up to anything other than being abducted. Vera would bet money she had no clue about his love life.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Vera admitted, standing in front of the other woman now.

Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. “Please. Come in out of the cold.”

Vera followed her inside. “You holding up okay?” Dumb question, but it was the expected one.

Elizabeth turned her hands up, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I suppose. I keep reminding myself that none of the victims have been harmed—not really, I mean—so there’s every reason to believe Nolan will be unharmed.” Her lips trembled. “But I just keep thinking about what could happen.”

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