14

1:00 p.m.

Vera stood on the sidewalk outside the funeral home.

Thankfully the parking lot was empty. Since the board showed two viewings scheduled for this evening, the lot wouldn t be empty for long. God, she hated funeral homes. How could Eve work with the dead after what they d been through?

And talk to them, for God s sake. How in the world could that be normal?

But then Vera supposed the same could be said about her own work.

Vera thought of going back home, but the idea held no appeal whatsoever. What she wanted was to have a look inside that cave or, more importantly, at what they had found in that cave.

Her cell vibrated, and she dug it from her shoulder bag.

Bent.

Seeing his name on the screen of her cell phone still rattled her. She d added him as a contact last night. Obviously this situation wasn t going to resolve anytime soon. The two of them would be in contact for a while. Better to recognize his number when he called.

The fact that he was calling so soon had her wondering if there was more news already. Or had she been on his mind? Vera rolled her eyes. She was likely the last person on his mind, ever.

Bracing herself, she accepted the call. Hey. You have news?

I think we need to talk. Just the two of us.

Oh hell. All right. You want to come to the house? She preferred to maintain the home field advantage.

With the reporters watching your house, I was thinking maybe you could come to mine. I ll pick up lunch on the way.

Her stomach reminded her she needed food. She hadn t bothered with breakfast, and it was lunchtime already. Sure. She took a breath. Where do you live now?

Before, he d still lived in his father s house. At least that had been his official address. Truth was, he was rarely there, and knowing his father, she could understand why.

I m over on Old Molino. He provided the number that went with the road.

I ll head that way. Vera knew the address. She d never been to the home there, but one of the girls in her AP English class sophomore year had gotten off the school bus at that location.

Good. See you in a few.

Benton Ranch

Old Molino Road, Fayetteville, 1:30 p.m.

The driveway was at least half a mile long. It wound through the trees, finally coming to an end at the house, which overlooked a pasture that was more like a meadow and absolutely stunning. Two horses grazed in the distance where the pasture spread toward the woods.

This was not what she had expected at all.

Vera turned back to the house. More a cottage. Not too small, but certainly not large. Stone and timber. It could have been lifted from a scene in the Cotswolds of England and placed on this hillside. Blooming vines grew over the stone portion of the wall in front. A small porch was tucked neatly on the other side. A gray metal roof highlighted the gray in the stone.

The extensive landscaping had to have been here already. Her mind simply refused to see Bent clipping hedges and fertilizing blooming shrubs. She climbed out of her SUV and closed the door. The sun bore down on her, amplifying the muggy heat and prompting her toward the shady porch. The house was surrounded by massive trees. Their broad reach provided generous protection from the sun. The soft fragrances of the variety of shrubs and perennial flowers drifted in the air and reminded her of her mother s gardens.

On the porch was a bench. A pair of mucking boots sat next to it. Men s. Vera turned and peered toward the horses. In the tree line, almost completely camouflaged, was a barn. She surveyed the yard for a UTV. Had to be one in the detached garage, which looked more like an old-fashioned carriage house. If not, that was one heck of a long walk to the barn every morning and every evening. Then again, Bent looked quite fit. Maybe he liked the walk. Or maybe he jogged to the barn and back twice a day. The notion reminded her that the only working out she d done since her arrival was the emotional kind.

Vera shook her head and lowered onto the bench. This whole situation felt surreal.

She was back home in small-town Tennessee-after her career crashed and burned-to try to head off any trouble related to the body she and her sister had hidden twenty-two years ago. And the man who had been her first lover was in charge of the investigation.

How was that for one hell of a twist of fate?

The crackling sound of gravel beneath tires drew her attention to the long driveway, as Bent s truck rolled into sight. Vera drank in the view: the horses meandering through lush grass, the trees standing sentinel, the sweeping drive. It was really the quintessential country setting.

How had Bent ended up here?

This setting simply didn t fit with the man she knew.

But the fact was, she didn t really know him. Not anymore. She hadn t known him since she was a kid, and he d barely been more than one himself. They were different people now. She surveyed the yard. This was his grown-up life.

She thought of her Central Gardens town house in Memphis. She had all the amenities and convenience that city living could provide. But she would never have this kind of view. Would never smell the sweet, clean scent of this air in the city.

She exiled the thoughts. She didn t want this. The city was her home.

Her career with MPD might be over, but her life was still in Memphis or someplace like it.

She thought of Eve and Luna and her daddy. The past was here . . . the people she loved were here. But there was no coming back to stay. That possibility just wasn t an option. The mere thought made her restless.

As if fate had wanted to prove her wrong, Bent emerged from his truck, and her heart skipped at least one beat.

Vera almost laughed out loud. Oh. Dear. God. She was not in love or anything else with Bent. Maybe she once was-as a kid. More likely what they d shared was mutual need . . . equal measures desperation and lust.

A huge difference.

And she wasn t a teenager anymore.

He climbed the three steps and gave her a nod. Thanks for coming.

She glanced at the bag in his hand. The logo from the town s most popular slaw-burger caf had her stomach sending stronger hunger messages.

Nice place. She stood, swept her gaze across the landscape once more. I wouldn t have guessed you for a farm sort of guy.

It s a ranch, he tossed back as he unlocked the door.

She glanced at the horses. Ranch, she amended. He had always worn that cowboy vibe with pride.

He opened the door and waited for her to go in first. Make yourself at home, he offered.

Inside was a little more western, a little more masculine. The stone and wood theme carried through in the structure. A huge fireplace spanned a good portion of one wall. The ceilings were vaulted with wood beams. The sofa was leather, with the two accompanying side chairs upholstered in a Southwest style. The only thing in the room that gave a nod to the cottage style was the vintage wood rocking chair.

My mom s, he said, noting her attention on the rocker. It s the one thing of hers my old man didn t throw away or destroy during one of his drunken binges.

Vera spotted the oval brass-framed photo on the table next to the rocker. She crossed the room and picked it up. The woman in the photograph was his mother. She didn t have to ask. His mother had the same dark-blonde hair and stunning blue eyes.

She was beautiful.

She was, he agreed.

Vera placed the photograph back on the table and turned to her host. What made you buy this place?

The living space was one big room, with the kitchen on the far side and a big old round table standing in the middle. The cabinets were painted a white that had dulled in brightness over time and sported a few dings but somehow looked exactly the way they were supposed to. Homey and well loved. Bent stood at the rustic table, unbagging their food.

Just before my mother died, we came here together once. He chuckled softly as if the memory gave him pleasure. The couple who owned the place had hired her as a housekeeper. She cleaned houses to make ends meet. God knows my old man drank up most of the money he earned. Anyway, we were here, and I was wishing I was in the woods somewhere.

Vera couldn t help smiling. She remembered Bent saying he was far more at home in the woods than anywhere else. He d never been a hunter. His love of the woods had been about feeling close to nature. The man was a walking cluster of contradictions. As soon as you thought you had him figured out, and that he didn t care about anything, you realized you knew nothing at all and that he cared deeply about many things.

As bored as I was that day, I remember her saying how she loved this place. When we were driving away in that old junker my dad somehow managed to keep running, she said this was her dream home. Imagine that. He laughed softly, glanced around. When I moved back to town, I heard it had been sitting empty for years, and I bought it. Did a little TLC, and here I am.

Vera couldn t think what to say for a moment. It was such a moving explanation, and she did not want to be moved by it . . . or by him.

Keep in mind, you asked, he pointed out, noting her inability to decide what to say next.

She walked toward the table and him. I m impressed that you would want to do something in her memory. She looked around, taking in more fully the comfortable, relaxed setting. It s a really nice place, and I m certain your mother would be so proud of you for remembering . . . She took a breath. For everything you ve accomplished.

There, she d said it. Given him a compliment. A well-deserved one, she confessed to herself. It was more than he would be able to do for her. Her life was in tatters, and she was confident even more trouble was coming.

Thank you. He gestured to the table. Have a seat. You want water? Beer? Sweet tea or coffee?

Water is fine. Vera settled into one of the chairs. What made you decide to come back? You could have landed anywhere after your time in the military.

He filled first one, then another glass from a pitcher he d taken from the refrigerator. I did my twenty and decided I was done. He put the pitcher back in the fridge, grabbed the glasses, and headed to the table. I still had the homeplace here, and I figured I d land there for a while until I decided what came next. He sat a glass in front of her, took his seat, and drew a long drink from the other glass.

Did you sell the house where you grew up? She unwrapped her burger and took a bite. It would be a lie if she pretended she didn t love a good cheeseburger loaded with slaw. She d gotten hooked on the combination as a kid. This one made her want to moan with satisfaction.

I did not. He unwrapped his own burger. I donated it to the church for temporary housing for those in need. Victims who lose everything in a house fire or a wife and kids who need to escape an abusive situation.

Stunned all over again, Vera finished chewing and swallowed. The man was just full of surprises. That was very generous of you.

He lifted one shoulder. Not really. I didn t need it. Clint-you remember Clint Grider, the pastor at the Baptist Church over on Elk Avenue?-he was always good to my mother and me.

Vera sipped her water, then nodded. I see. You came back to prove something.

You think I m proving something? The ghost of a grin twitched his lips.

You re making a safe place, she suggested, from the home where you and your mother were abused. You re the sheriff, keeping the community where you grew up as an outcast safe from threat.

I m honored you think I m that deep. Anyway, Fraley asked me to run for sheriff. He was desperate for someone with the right background. He served during Vietnam, so he saw my military service as the right background. It was a job. I figured why not-for a while anyway. He looked her straight in the eyes then. And maybe giving the house to the church was an up-yours to the old man. He would have hated that.

Vera bit her lip, but she couldn t stop the smile. That would have been my alternate scenario.

They ate in silence for a bit, but eventually the subject she d hoped wouldn t come up did. Of course.

What happened in Memphis?

As much as she d enjoyed his story about buying this place, she had no desire to talk to anyone here or anywhere else about what happened in Memphis. The news media was doing a bang-up job of that for her. She couldn t wait to see what they made of today s development.

You don t watch the news? she tossed back, rather than give any sort of response.

What gets reported isn t always what really happened. His gaze rested on hers. I want to know what really happened. From you.

She supposed if she expected him to keep sharing with her, she needed to do the same. But not about this. It s a difficult situation, and at this point, my attorney has advised me not to talk about it to anyone.

When had she become such a consummate liar? She hadn t spoken to an attorney yet. No matter that her police union rep had urged her to do exactly that, she simply hadn t been able to go there. The truth was, maybe she didn t deserve an easy way out of this.

If Bent had said something- okay or I see -she might have been able to move on and change the subject. But he didn t. Instead, he watched her . . . just watched her and waited for a real answer.

Vera took a breath, let it go. I made a mistake.

The statement hung in the tension that swirled inside her, around her, despite her best efforts to tamp it down. Again he said nothing, just waited for her to go on.

I should have noticed the trouble with a member of the team, but I didn t. I mean, I did, but I thought she was okay. I should have recognized she wasn t. Two people are dead, and it wouldn t have happened if I hadn t allowed my friendship with a team member to override my judgment.

One thing I ve learned -he crumpled his burger wrapper and tossed it back into the bag- is sometimes we can t see what s right in front of us. He inclined his head and studied her. It isn t always about being blind or distracted. It s about not wanting to believe what we see.

Valid point. Unfortunately, dead is dead, and no amount of rationalizing will bring those people back. She couldn t finish her burger, pushed it aside. And someone has to answer for that. It was my job to see, and I didn t. She wadded the remainder of the burger in the paper and placed it into the bag. To prevent herself from fidgeting, she placed her clasped hands in her lap and held on tight for whatever was coming next.

I m sorry. I know this is difficult.

She drummed up a grateful expression. Thanks. Subject change. What s the situation at the cave now? Two more sets of remains were found. Is there anything else you can tell me?

You want some coffee? He pushed back his chair and stood, clearly wanting coffee himself.

Sure. Why not feed more caffeine to her jangling nerves?

He placed the grounds in the filter, poured water into the reservoir, and started the process. Then leaned against the counter next to the coffee maker and settled his gaze on hers. There are similarities between the sets of remains.

Between the two found in the other cavern? That had to be what he meant. Those two could not be related in any way to Sheree.

Between all three.

Vera s heart nearly stopped. What sort of similarities?

All the victims are female, and all were posed similarly. Rocks were placed on the bodies in an effort, I imagine, to prevent them being bothered or dragged off by animals.

The memory of piling rocks on Sheree s body flashed in her head. Okay.

Their arms were folded over their abdomens before the rocks were piled on, but more telling were the things left with the remains.

His words had her heart lunging into a gallop. What sort of things? She thought of Sheree s handbag and her suitcase. Tendrils of tension riddled with trepidation stretched through her.

Crosses on chains. He touched his throat. Necklaces. They each had one, and they were all exactly the same. Silver plated, thin chains, all a bit rusty now.

Vera felt hot and then icy cold. She could see Eve leaving a cross necklace on Sheree s remains . . . but she couldn t have on the others. It wasn t possible. How long -she paused, steadied her voice- have the two in the second cavern been there? Any ideas on the timeline?

One, we believe, has been there twenty-five years, maybe less. She was wearing two rings. One was a silver band-the real thing-and there was a date inscribed inside. August first, twenty-five years ago. The other was silver also, but it was one of the best friends rings teenagers buy each other.

She nodded, the movement jerky. I know the kind you mean.

This is the part that you re going to find interesting. He said this with a knowing look. The other vic was wearing the matching ring.

Which suggests they knew each other, Vera proposed. Is the estimate on her time of death the same?

Now that s the strange part, when you consider the matching rings. The first victim was put there months, maybe a year before the second one, Conover estimates. He lifted one shoulder in a vague shrug. It s difficult to be certain at this point, but that s the best estimate he can give me. We ll see what the lab says.

Holy shit. Her head was still reeling. Who the hell could have put them there? And why? Okay, Vee, think like an analyst, not a perpetrator.

What s your conclusion then? God, she hated that her voice sounded a little pitchy.

I believe it s possible the same perp left all three victims in the cave. I don t know why the older remains were hidden more carefully than Sheree s. Maybe the killer didn t have as much time to hide the body of his last kill. Or maybe some physical limitation prevented him from doing the same as he had the two times before.

Vera cleared her throat. His assessment was a reasonable one. What about cause of death? Any similarities there?

Again, I can t say for sure, but there s indication of head trauma on all three victims.

Jesus Christ. She understood now. He was leaning toward the idea that this was the work of a serial killer. She managed a shaky breath. Of course he was. Three murders with numerous similarities. Bodies dumped in the same place. Made sense.

Her gut clenched at the little voice whispering things she did not want to hear. She hushed it. Would not go there. No way.

I ve asked for support from the TBI. One of their agents, as well as a member of their forensic group, is coming tomorrow to have a look.

Vera reminded herself to breathe. Good move. Not that he needed her to tell him that calling in the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation was smart, but it was better than saying nothing. As I ve said before, I would be happy to help if you need me.

Her lips felt numb, her tongue awkward. She struggled to slow her pounding heart. She had to keep her wits about her. Had to maintain analyst mode. So far nothing to worry about. Nothing she and Eve couldn t deal with. It was all okay . . . so far .

I appreciate the offer. He smiled, then turned to the coffee maker and proceeded to fill two mugs with the freshly brewed coffee.

She ordered her fingers to unlock so that she could accept the mug he passed to her. Thanks.

He settled back into his chair and placed his mug on the table. I ll bring you in as soon as I can. For now, I have to keep the scene pristine. You understand.

I do, yes. She did. Really. She wasn t part of official law enforcement around here, and as someone with access to the crime scene prior to the discovery, she was a person of interest. The additional remains had taken this thing to the next level for those investigating. Bent s people, however well trained and experienced, simply didn t have all that was needed for a case like this one. There was a level of expertise and experience required that typically wasn t found in small-town police departments.

When Sheree s remains were discovered, he began, my primary persons of interest were your father, obviously, and Garth Rimmey. Both had motive and opportunity.

Obviously. Her father was the husband. Of course he was a suspect. But we know my father wouldn t have hurt Sheree or anyone else.

This was true, even if it would have been far easier to let him take the fall. He wouldn t know or understand what was happening, and Eve would be in the clear.

Didn t matter now. This was bigger than just Sheree.

How the hell had two other bodies gotten into that cave?

The glimmer of a scenario she did not want to expand upon nudged her again. Couldn t be. Couldn t be. There had to be another explanation. Her father wouldn t kill anyone . . . the idea that he d killed multiple victims was ludicrous.

Wasn t it?

All the times he d gotten angry after their mother died . . . all the drinking . . . but the timeline didn t fit.

Not going there . . . not yet.

As for Rimmey, Bent went on, the other two victims don t really fit a scenario that involves him. What would be his motive for disposing of his victims on your property prior to Sheree s marriage to your father? I can t see a connection there.

Vera managed a sip of her coffee. Agreed. So . . . how long before you plan to make this new information public?

Not something she was looking forward to. The nightmare would expand exponentially for the Boyett family, and the story would gain momentum in the media. Mass shooters and serial killers were viewer magnets. The coverage would be nonstop from now until the case was solved.

I ll see what the agent from the TBI has to say about releasing information and go from there. For now, considering there are no recent victims, we have no reason to believe the killer is an imminent threat. For all we know, he could be dead or in prison.

True. Her right knee began to bounce. She cradled her coffee mug in hopes that he wouldn t see the way her hands had started to shake as well.

She had to get out of here. He wasn t going to allow her into the scene today. Which was just as well. She needed to think, and then she needed to talk to Eve again. Alone. Some place where there was zero chance of being overheard or distracted.

I should let you get back to work, she suggested. Thank you for lunch.

I m glad you agreed to come. It means a lot to me that we can talk like this.

Why was she having such difficulty reading him? Did he or did he not suspect her and/or Eve of being involved with this somehow? Or their father? There were moments when she was certain he had suspicions related to one or all three of them, and then he would do something like this lunch, and she would be convinced he did not.

But then again, this could just be his way of regaining her trust.

On the porch, he hesitated and reached for his cell. Benton, he said in greeting to the caller.

Vera wandered down the steps and surveyed the landscaping around the house that really was so un-Bent-like. She took a long, lingering look at the meadow, where the horses grazed. It was a peaceful place.

The call ended, and she waited for him to join her, then they walked to her SUV together. Vera settled into the driver s seat.

Bent paused a moment before closing her door. Just remember, he said, searching her eyes, anything you can remember from when Sheree disappeared that you may not have mentioned before could make all the difference in figuring out this mess.

I assure you, she promised, I ve told you everything I can remember.

Still, he hesitated, held her gaze. I m counting on that, Vee, because this situation just got a little worse.

The call. What now?

We have a fourth set of remains.