Page 8 of Closer Than You Know

“Are we checking every window?” Vera did a quick mental tally of all the windows she’d seen.

Bent shook his head. “That last show some ghost-hunter group made is still on YouTube. They went from room to room. We should be able to see which one had what we’re looking for.”

“Excellent idea.” Vera grinned. “Your office or mine?”

“I have the investigation details laid out at my home office.”

“But does it come with the offer of breakfast?” Vera was suddenly starving.

He smiled. “I can make that happen.”

“Best offer I’ve had all morning.”

Back on the first floor, more uniforms guarded the entrances. News had spread, and a few lookie-loos were in the parking lot along with the reporters.

Vera groaned at the number of news vans lining the perimeter. “Oh yippee.”

“All we have to do,” Bent said, leaning closer to her, “is make sure they don’t follow us.”

Before she could respond, two women and a cameraman breached the yellow tape and stormed toward them.

“Oh hell,” Bent murmured.

He headed toward the three to cut them off while Vera climbed into his truck. She appreciated the move. He knew how she hated this sort of thing. She had nothing against reporters in general, but she’d suffered through more than her share in her career. Now that she was a private contractor, she didn’t have to talk to reporters if she didn’t want to. No chain of command to keep happy. No public to appease.

“Vera Mae!”

She would have recognized that voice anywhere. Another groan welled inside her. Elizabeth “Boggie” Bogus Baker. Vera would lay odds that the woman had chosen a man with a last name that began with aBjust so she didn’t have to change any of her monogrammed self-indulgences.

“Mrs. Baker ...,” Bent was saying.

“Vera Mae, please, I need to speak with you.” Elizabeth’s face was red and puffy, but it was the pain there that did the trick.

Vera took a breath and climbed out of the truck. Putting off the inevitable was a waste of time anyway.

Bent glanced at Vera as Elizabeth rushed past him.

“I’m so sorry to hear about what’s happened, Elizabeth,” Vera said with complete earnestness. Having a child in danger—even an adult child—was a parent’s worst nightmare. “We can talk at Bent’s office—have more privacy.”

“I know.” Elizabeth grabbed Vera by the shoulders. “But I just couldn’t wait. Please, just please promise me you won’t let anything happen to my son. I know if anyone in this world can find him before he’s hurt, it’s you. Please promise me.”

Vera could feel the various camera lenses zooming in on her. The other woman who’d made it as far as Bent would allow was obviously a reporter. She appeared to be directing the guy with the television camera on his shoulder. She produced a smile when she noticed Vera watching her.

Vera shifted her attention back to Nolan’s mother. “I can promise you, Elizabeth, that Bent and I will do everything we can.”

Tears flowed down the woman’s face. Funny, she had not a single wrinkle under all that puffy redness. She looked perfect. Vera, on the other hand, had plenty of lines. Truth be told, Elizabeth had always been perfect, from the top of her flawlessly styled black hair to her elegant designer boots.

“Thank you, Vera Mae.” She yanked Vera against her, hugging her tightly. “Thank you. I just want my son back safe and sound.”

Vera glanced at the reporter. Now the whole town—possibly the country—would know that Vera Mae Boyett had promised to find the victim, in a case where the victims were typically released basically unharmed anyway. She wasn’t sure which one of them would come off looking more foolish, she or Elizabeth. Then again, it wasn’t Vera’s son missing.

She just hoped like hell this was not the moment this bizarre perpetrator decided to escalate into the kind of violence that did more than inconvenience and temporarily disable his victims.

At least not before Vera could find that little shit, Nolan Baker.

4

Benton RanchOld Molino Road, Fayetteville, 8:00 a.m.

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