Page 33 of Closer Than You Know

A grin tried to make an appearance, but he kept it at bay. “Let me have a look in your fridge.”

While Bent figured out if there was anything to prepare, Vera wandered to the laundry room, where Conover was now focused on the window over her washer and dryer.

He glanced at her. “You should have better locks on these windows.”

Yeah, she had an idea for that. “You’re right. I’ll take care of that today.”

She had a lot to do today. Dropping by the hardware store for a new power drill and some long screws for securing the windows was first on her agenda. Next, she intended to get in touch with Teresa Russ. Then she would follow up on leads related to Nolan Baker—not that she had any, but she planned to find at least one today. If the Time Thief’s MO played out per usual, Nolan would be released tonight.

But Vera had a bad feeling about that. Maybe the message she’d found on her mirror this morning was the reason that nagging sense of doom wouldn’t fully dissipate. Her instincts were humming.

Some would say it was a sure sign she needed to brace herself because something bad was coming.

Vera didn’t think so. She was pretty sure it was already here.

14

Boyett FarmGood Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 1:00 p.m.

Bent had made breakfast as they’d waited for the lengthy forensics process to finish. Now, a trip to the hardware store and two hours of work later, Vera had bored the second screw into the final window. She wasn’t sure what Luna would think of her securing the windows shut, but she was reasonably confident Eve wouldn’t care. Come summer, Vera would likely be dragging out this handy new power tool and removing the screws so she could raise the windows.

Probably would have been simpler to just have the security company come back out and add sensors to the windows. But there was something infinitely satisfying about knowing she had personally thwarted the efforts of any would-be intruders.

She climbed off the stepladder and set the power drill aside. “Try getting in now, you bastard.”

A check of her cell showed there was still no response from Russ. Vera had left her a voicemail. Hopefully she would call soon. The waiting was driving her nuts. She had no more windows to work on. She’d cleaned up the kitchen already. Bent was a good cook, but he’d made a hell of a mess, and she had refused to allow him to stay and clean up. She’d had things to do. It was bad enough that the deputy who’dshowed up first thing that morning had hung around, followed her to the hardware store and back.

Having someone watching her made her antsy. She could take care of herself—at least that was the line she gave Bent and anyone else who suggested otherwise.

What now? Put away her tools and then maybe check in with Bent to see if he had any news. Waiting was another of those things that made her edgy.

She grabbed the power drill. The best place for her new tool, she decided, was under the sink. Since she might need it again sooner than she thought. A few strides and a quick squat, and that was done. The stepladder went back into the laundry room. She called it a room, but it was really just a nook her father had carved out of kitchen space to create an organized place for the laundry stuff. Vera remembered how happy her mother had been with the change. How Vera wished life was so simple now.

Her cell vibrated with an incoming call, and she jumped. Held her breath in hopes it was Russ.Bent.Her hopes sagged. No offense to him—she had questions for him—but she really, really needed to have a conversation with Russ. Maybe she would just show up at the PI’s office.

“Hey.” Vera’s attempt at an upbeat tone didn’t really hit the mark.

“Hey,” he said back. “I managed to make appointments with all three of the Time Thief’s released vics. You busy, or do you want to come along for new interviews?”

“Sure, I want to come along.” She was supposed to be helping with the case, after all. “You coming now?”

“I’m outside your house.”

She should have known. “Headed that way.”

She ended the call and did a quick survey of the kitchen to ensure she’d locked the door and all was turned off—coffee maker, stove. On the way to the front door, she checked her hair. The ponytail she’d tied it into was looking a little wispy, but it would just have to do. Since she’d had to forgo blow-drying her hair this morning, taming it witha hair tie had been her only option that didn’t take too much time. At the door she grabbed her jacket, dragged it on, then her shoulder bag and looped it over her neck.

She set the security system, and then, once outside, she closed and locked the door. Checked it just to be sure. Obviously, paranoia was creeping in.

Keeping busy had been the key to her not thinking about the Messenger as the morning had dragged on. As creepy as the message on the mirror had been—not to mention it had put her instincts on edge—she had no actual reason to believe it was from him.

Couldn’t be. Couldn’t be.

The idea really was ridiculous. He was in prison. If he’d had a partner during his killing years, there had been no evidence, and there had been nothing from that person since the Messenger’s arrest, which pretty much negated the possibility—killers rarely just stopped killing. This, Vera suspected, was likely someone trying to rattle her. Maybe some other creep she’d ensured went to prison and who had recently been released. With the media circus generated around the Messenger case, anyone who hadn’t lived under a rock would know that was the case to use if they wanted to get to her. And there was always the possibility that someone the Messenger had befriended in prison was out now and was doing him a favor by harassing Vera. Both were possibilities she would look into if the need arose.

The case had been the subject of numerous special reports and documentaries. Finding a few details online would be easy enough. As for her recent activities, the investigation into the remains in that damned cave had been far more high profile than this Time Thief thing. If that very personal investigation hadn’t stirred the Messenger’s interest and prompted some sort of action, she couldn’t see how this case would.

“Who are we going to see first?” she asked as she climbed into Bent’s truck. The deputy in the cruiser was no longer parked at her house. She supposed Bent had sent him on his way.

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