Page 93 of Closer Than You Know

“Fine. Let’s get it done.” Every minute wasted was another that Eve’s life was in danger. Vera didn’t want to consider when she’d last had a drink of water or eaten ...please, please let her be okay.

The preparations were fast ... faster than Vera could have hoped for. The owner of the last farm on the left of Molino where it ended at Coldwater Creek was more than happy to allow his place to be used as a staging area for the operation.

Vera called Luna and warned her not to leave the house or to talk to anyone she didn’t know until this was done. Two deputies were assigned to keep her safe, and her husband was there, so Vera felt reasonably confident the bastard wouldn’t try to get to Luna. No matter, Luna cried. She was worried about Eve and Vera. Vera assured her as best she could. She promised to do all in her power to get Eve and herself through this safely.

Vera went upstairs while Bent finished arranging the team. There were small preparations she needed to make as well.

In the bathroom she gathered a couple of potentially useful items. Her mother’s metal fingernail file. Six inches long and pointy on the end. Could make a decent close-contact weapon. She slid it into the sock on her right foot—on the inside next to her ankle.

Then she dug around until she found her father’s old straight razor. He’d stopped using it ages ago because the rivets that held the blade to the handle had broken and come loose, leaving the razor in two pieces. The razor had been passed down from his father, and he’d used it for as long as Vera could remember. He’d always kept it nice and sharp. Her mama had hated it. She was glad when it finally gave out and he had to stop using it.

Vera tucked the blade portion into her left sock, again on the inside next to her ankle. If her feet were bound together, the weapons were less likely to be noticed by the person doing the binding. Then she returned to her bedroom and retrieved the small handgun she kept in its original wood case. She’d used her department-issued firearm for so long back in Memphis that she’d all but forgotten about her personal weapon. When her household goods had arrived here after the sale of her Memphis condo, she had discovered lots of things—including the handgun—she hadn’t thought of in years. She had cleaned it and tucked it, case and all, into her bedside table.

She hadn’t really expected to ever use it.

Until now.

35

Carter FarmColdwater Creek Road, Taft, Tennessee, 8:50 a.m.

Vera parked on the road, a quarter of a mile or so from the turn for the driveway that would lead up to the Carter home. The location was shielded by the woods on the left, preventing any possibility of being seen from the house.

Bent turned to her, studied her for a long moment. The hat, that face ... almost made her wish ...

“I will be careful,” she said before he could, and in an effort to prevent her mind from going down that other path. “You need to remember that I was a well-trained homicide detective before I became a criminal analyst with the Memphis Police Department. I know how to handle myself in situations like this.”

“All the training in the world doesn’t make you bulletproof, Vee.”

She nodded in acquiescence. “I’m aware.”

“Wait two minutes once I get out, then go.” He looked away a moment before saying, “Just don’t get yourself killed.”

Before she could think how to respond, he grabbed her by the head and pulled her to him. He kissed her hard and fast. He released her just as suddenly and climbed out of her SUV.

She watched in her rearview mirror as he moved around the back of her vehicle and then disappeared into the woods. Her attention shiftedto the digital clock on the dash and waited. One minute. Felt like a lifetime. She held her breath, waiting for that digital clock to click over once more. Two.

Staring straight ahead, she tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. “Showtime.”

She removed her foot from the brake and rolled forward. When she reached the driveway, she started to turn into it, but the vibration of her cell phone stopped her. She hit the brake and stared at the device on the console. It vibrated again.

She picked it up and studied the screen.

Unknown Caller.

She tapped the screen to accept the call. “Keep driving,” a voice said.

Male. Not one she knew. The grandson ...Patrick?Maybe. Fear and anticipation exploded in her chest.

“I’m here,” she blurted. Caught herself and forced a sense of calm. “Alone, like you said.”

Laughter echoed over the line. “Good girl. Now, drive straight ahead. Quickly, before your friends catch up to you. You will know what to do then.”

“Where am I going?” she demanded, but the call dropped.

“Fuck.” She tossed her phone onto the seat and rammed her foot against the accelerator. The SUV lurched forward. If she hesitated too long, Bent would rush back to her vehicle to find out what was going on.

She hadn’t gotten fifty yards before her phone started to vibrate again. She glanced at the screen.Bent.

---