10

Tuesday, July 23

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 8:05 a.m.

Vera awoke with a start.

She blinked away the bleariness, then traced a water stain on the whitewashed beadboard ceiling. She blinked again. Home.

She groaned and started to flop onto her side, but the brass-and-crystal light fixture her father had hung on her fourteenth birthday drew her into the past. She d so badly wanted a chandelier. It was nothing elaborate, but it had made her fourteen-year-old self feel special. Eve thought she was crazy for wasting her birthday wish on a dumb light fixture. Didn t matter. Vera had loved it. Her mother smiled and whispered that she wished she d had one that pretty when she was fourteen.

Before.

Before their mother got cancer. Before she died, leaving Vera and Eve so very sad. Before their father sought out comfort elsewhere, leaving them so utterly and completely alone. And before the rest of the disastrous things that occurred.

Vera was home. She lay in the bed a few more moments, until the more cognitive side of her brain caught up with the emotional part delivering all those tender memories. She was home, and she was in trouble.

Sadly the trouble was coming at her from both aspects of her life.

The other memories, more recent ones, poured into her skull. Years of hard work to bring a cutting-edge investigation team to life. And then the one defining event that destroyed it all.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force the thoughts away, but they refused to go. No more pretending. At some point, her sisters would ask questions about the trouble in Memphis. This other insanity-right here at home-kept her off the hot seat for now, but it wouldn t last.

Nothing ever did.

Vera opened her eyes and allowed the reality to rise inside her, swarm in her brain like bees in the springtime.

No less than a dozen well-trained, focused minds had worked hard to become the very best officers in the elite program. Vera interviewed each one personally and repeatedly. All were the cream of the crop produced by the police academy. Four seasoned veterans had been carefully chosen to lead the unit.

Vera turned on her side and curled into herself.

Still, they had failed. No one had spotted the trouble until it was too late.

Mission after mission went perfectly. The department, the mayor, the governor praised their work. The media turned them all into celebrities. Other police departments were asking for help with creating their own teams that would work 24-7 to stop crime before it happened.

The Memphis PD s PAPA (predictive analytics policing action) team was the first truly successful one of its kind. For two years they had ferreted out and stopped perpetrators before they carried out their criminal activities.

And then it all went to shit when a senior detective killed another for reasons that had nothing to do with the work. Vera should have noted the issue and seen the trouble coming, but she missed it completely.

Internally, all were grateful the killing hadn t involved civilians. Still, two fine detectives, a man and a woman, were dead. The woman who had done the killing immediately turned her weapon on herself.

Vera had known this woman. They had been friends, she and Lorna Carver. Lorna s recent divorce set off warning bells for Vera, but Lorna insisted she was glad it was over. She and her ex had no children. The divorce seemed to be amicable. Vera bought her story without question. All was as it should be, and Lorna was ready to move on. End of story.

Except it wasn t.

As it turned out, Lorna had relationship troubles going all the way back to elementary school. Her mother broke down during her very first questioning and admitted that Lorna had hidden it well, but she d always had issues keeping a relationship together. When her husband moved out, Lorna became involved with a fellow detective-a colleague on the PAPA team. The two were close. Everyone on the team was close. But what no one knew was that he had a history with Lorna s husband. That connection drove him to betray Lorna s trust and ultimately prompted her to unravel.

Even now, Vera tried to find an incident that should have set off new alarm bells, but both detectives had been too careful. For Lorna, her career was all she had left, in her mind, so she worked extra hard to behave as if nothing was amiss. Until she lost control.

No excuses. Vera should have seen it coming.

She reached for her phone and checked the time. Eight fifteen a.m. She sighed. Good grief, she should have been up hours ago. Vera tossed her phone onto the bedside table and threw back the covers. As she pushed to her feet, she considered that it was necessary to talk to Bent again about the case here. She needed to know exactly what they had found so far. Ultimately, she was at a standstill as to what to do until she knew what she was up against.

What they were up against.

This was bigger than just Vera.

Once she had more information, she needed to have a more in-depth discussion with Eve. She wasn t sure what time Eve and Luna went to work. Before now, apparently. The house was as silent as a tomb, which suggested no one else was here. Vera tidied the covers on her bed out of habit. She dug a pair of jeans and a tee along with underthings from her bag and rushed through a shower. With her hair tucked into a ponytail, she wandered toward the stairs, checking the other bedrooms as she went. Luna s room was exactly what anyone who met her would expect. Pink and flowery. Lots of family photos on the wall. A framed photograph of her fianc on the bedside table. Everything in its place. Eve s, on the other hand, was cluttered and glum. There was only one family photo, and it was a framed shot from when Vera and Eve were much younger. It sat on the dresser alongside a pile of clothes that needed to be put away. Her bed was unmade, and the window blinds remained closed.

Perfectly Eve. Dark and brooding.

Their father s room smelled musty and unused. Vera doubted anyone went into the room anymore. Unable to help herself, she turned on the light since the shades were drawn and stepped inside. The room looked exactly as it had when he was married to Sheree, which wasn t that different from the way it had been in the before part of their lives. Sheree hadn t really changed anything around the house. Doing house stuff, she would say, wasn t her thing. Cleaning of any sort was included in the stuff that wasn t her thing. Eve and Vera had been like little Cinderellas during her tenure as their stepmother.

Sheree hadn t cooked either. Their father would make breakfast before he left for work. Vera and Eve figured out supper so their father wouldn t have to. The summer after he and Sheree married, the two of them had been on their own for lunches as well. Sheree lay around the house watching soap operas all day. This was just before any significant social media launched, so when she wasn t watching television, she stayed on the phone talking to friends or she simply disappeared for a few hours. All while Vera and Eve took care of the house, the cooking, and eventually, the new baby.

Early on they stopped complaining to their father. Even then they knew their stepmother was up to no good, but keeping the peace was far easier than dealing with the fallout of tattling. Sheree had been one vindictive bitch.

Vera forced the memories away and drifted down the stairs. It had been so long since she d spent a night in this house, she d forgotten about all the wonderful childhood photos her mother had hung on the wall going down the stairs. Thankfully Sheree hadn t touched any of those either. She probably hadn t even paid attention to them. She d been far too full of herself to notice anyone or anything else.

Downstairs, the vague scent of coffee lingered. A glass dome covered a stack of muffins waiting on the table along with a note from Luna saying she decided it was better to go to work and keep her mind off things. There was no note from Eve, but her favorite mug sat in the sink, with a telltale ring suggesting she had coffee here this morning.

Since the leftover coffee in the pot was cold, Vera grabbed a pod and made a single cup. With her cup brewed, she slid onto a stool and checked her cell. No calls. No emails or text messages. She wished that were a good sign, but it wasn t. What it meant was one of two things-either the powers that be in Memphis had nothing to back up the narrative they wanted to present, or they had something that didn t fit their narrative. In either case, a lid would be kept on things until they figured a way around the issue.

Vera drew in a deep breath and sent a text to Bent to see if there was any news here. She thought of last night and how he sat out there in his truck the way he used to when they were younger . . . and far less intelligent. He left not long after she came back inside, but the impression he d made stayed with her for hours, because that s how long it took her to finally fall asleep. Damn it.

She had been so enthralled with him back in high school. Her father had warned her about Bent, but there had been a mystique about him she couldn t resist. A dark allure. Neither of which she would have allowed herself to fall into had she not been so desperate to escape what was happening at home. Bent had been this secret, forbidden thing that was hers and hers alone.

Then, six months later he left without saying a word. She had to hear about it from his mean-ass daddy. Since her father hadn t bought her a car yet, she rode her bicycle all the way to Bent s house and beat on the door until someone answered. Howard Benton yanked the door open and staggered onto the porch at four o clock in the afternoon. He drunkenly told Vera the news and then warned that she d better git before she got more than she came for.

That same night Sheree announced that she and Vernon needed a vacation. The girls could take care of Luna and hold the fort down. The most bizarre part was that their father agreed. When they returned from their long weekend away, he obviously felt bad about the decision, which was likely the only reason he bought that junker of a car for Vera s senior year. Being a teenager, she readily forgave him . . . until the next time.

Surviving that year and escaping to college had been her only hope for relief.

Looking back, she understood that Bent s leaving had been for the best. She had buckled down and refocused on her schoolwork. Went off to college and lived mostly happily ever after-at least until recently.

At first, she d felt bad for leaving Eve. But that had been the only choice at the time.

Was it her fault that Eve turned to drugs and alcohol?

No. Vera gritted her teeth. She refused to shoulder the full responsibility for what had clearly been her sister s bad decisions and their father s failure. He should have taken care of all his children. He stopped being concerned about Vera and Eve as soon as Sheree came into the picture. After Sheree was gone (and once he moved past the self-pity stage), his entire focus had been on Luna.

By the time Vera finished her undergrad work and started on her master s, Eve had left home and started college herself. But time and time again she bombed and returned home to lick her wounds. When it was clear Eve needed rehab, despite their father s denial, Vera took out a loan to ensure that happened. By then she had accepted a position at the Memphis Police Department.

It all seemed a lifetime ago now. Was, actually.

Vera washed out her mug and stared through the window above the sink. Bent had not responded to her text. She really needed to get a handle on what they d found out there. If he wouldn t share answers with her, then she d just have to find them herself.

She was going back to that cave.

Mind made up, she grabbed her cell, slipped on her sneakers, and headed out the back door. She d made it down the steps when a voice stopped her.

Vera, you are one difficult lady to catch.

Vera stopped in her tracks, swore silently, then forced herself to turn around. Her gaze collided with that of the woman who d spoken. Patricia Patton. Top-of-the-heap reporter from Memphis s ABC bureau. Here she was, standing in the Boyett backyard, in stilettos and a tight skirt and looking all sleek and polished, just like she did on the prime-time news every evening.

For Vera, the big question just this second was Where had her cameraperson hidden? He would be here somewhere. Her gaze darted around the yard. No sign of him.

I spoke to your sisters as they were leaving for work, Patton went on, but they didn t have much to say. I ve been waiting more than an hour for you to make an appearance.

In our backyard, Vera said, at last finding her voice. You realize you re trespassing.

It wasn t a question. The ambitious woman knew exactly what she was doing.

Patton smiled. Well, you know how it is. It s difficult to get ahead and stay there in this business without a little creative step here and there.

Vera pulled off a smile, folded her arms over her chest, and lifted her chin. Well, I applaud your creativity, Pat -the woman hated, hated being called Pat- but you ll need to go back to the road like all the others.

No cameraperson popped out from behind a crape myrtle or rosebush. Not yet, anyway.

How are you handling the situation back in Memphis from here? Patton asked, ignoring Vera s order and choosing instead to follow her toward the barn.

Vera stopped and faced her. You can either go now, or I will call a deputy to see that you do.

Rather than depart as directed, Patton looked her up and down. You have an in with the local cops, don t you? Sheriff Benton. The two of you have a history.

How the hell did she know about that? The thing she d shared with Bent had not been common knowledge. It had been their secret. Vera decided the woman was bluffing.

We ve known each other most of our lives, if that s what you mean, Vera said. Now, if you ll get off this property-

As if he d received some sort of cue or had been close enough to hear the exchange, a large man, camera on his shoulder, appeared from around the corner of the house.

Vera had known he wouldn t be far away. She was mad enough to spit. Without a word, she turned her back to both. She was not giving this woman a sound bite or a usable image to manipulate or exploit.

Vera, do you feel singularly responsible for what happened to your team? Patton shouted to her back.

Vera stalled. She told herself to keep going, but her brain just wouldn t issue the command.

You and Detective Carver were close. Shouldn t you have seen this coming?

Vera turned slowly, aware that the camera would be rolling. Detective Carver was an outstanding member of our team. No one could have foreseen her actions. Whatever caused this tragedy, I refuse to trample her career in light of the years she devoted to the department and the community-for your ratings.

Perhaps you re more worried about your career, Patton argued. Based on what I m hearing, you should have spotted the cracks before the breakdown happened.

Vera nodded. The words had hit home. You re right. It was my job to recognize anyone who was not fit to carry out his or her duties. I did what any other person in my shoes would have done-the best I could. Perhaps it wasn t enough, but I am only human. I cannot read minds or see the future.

How strange that you would say this when seeing the future is what your glorified PAPA team was all about. Perhaps it was never about anything more than profiling and harassing certain minority groups in poor neighborhoods.

Vera wilted a little despite her best efforts. This was where the tragedy had been headed since the moment Detective Carver pulled the trigger of her weapon in that mission briefing room.

Patricia Patton didn t care about the two detectives who died that day. She only cared about ratings and awards. She cared about promoting unrest and villainizing the department. All for just one thing-staying on top.

That s a question for the chief of police s office, Vera said before turning her back once more.

You re no stranger to tragedy, Vera, Patton called after her. Was the unsolved disappearance of your stepmother the reason you chose a law enforcement career?

Vera hesitated but kept going. Soon she would hit the tree line, and she doubted the ambitious reporter would have the guts to follow her into the woods, since there would be cops at the crime scene. Not that there was any hope of keeping this thing low profile. The find in the cave was the absolute perfect backstory to the drama unfolding in Memphis, making Vera an ideal target.

Or maybe, Patton threw out, your career path was just the safest place to hide from the secrets of your past.

Vera froze.

Was that what she d been doing all this time . . . hiding?