3

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 5:00 p.m.

Vera watched as the massive black pickup truck owned by Luna s future husband drove away. Why did anyone need a truck that large? It was a miracle her petite sister could even climb in without assistance. It was an even bigger miracle Luna had fallen for a hard-core country boy. From the time she was in kindergarten, all she d talked about was being a ballerina in New York City. She had loved ballet. Their father had certainly gone to endless lengths to ensure she d had all the necessary lessons.

The man had dragged that child all over the Southeast for competitions as she d gotten older. Thank God Vera had been in Memphis by then, building her career.

The one that fell apart last week . . .

She forced the thought away and focused on the developing situation here. Not that it was a safer place to land, mentally speaking. Maybe not in any respect. But it was somehow easier-at least for now.

She gone?

Eve s voice made Vera jump. She turned from the window. Her sister was a few inches shorter than her. Their mother had always said that Vera snagged a little extra height from her father s side of the family.

She and Jerome are off to the funeral home to pick out a casket, Vera said in answer. There was no way to guess when the remains would be released, but Luna preferred being prepared. Vera desperately hoped she wasn t planning some sort of elaborate funeral.

Eve shrugged. I m surprised she didn t insist we help with picking out the casket.

Vera grunted her agreement. It was a miracle-one for which she was immensely grateful.

Eve walked to the window and stared, probably, like Vera, at nothing. Their vehicles were there . . . but not much else beyond the collage of blooms scattered across the landscape. There was the heat that wouldn t abate until well after dark-the signs of it showed in the wilted leaves and drooping blossoms.

No sign of reporters, thankfully.

The extended visual assessment of nothing in particular meant her sister had something to say and was attempting to work up the nerve to get it out. Vera had plenty to say herself, and she wasn t looking forward to a single word of it either. The dialogue opened a door into one of those no-going-back sort of corridors. As silly as it sounded, somehow all this time it had felt like if they didn t say it out loud, it wasn t real.

Oh, but it was. Far too real.

Why didn t you answer my calls?

Vera drew in a big breath and crossed her arms over her chest. No more beating around the bush. The worst-case scenario they had long sequestered to the backs of their minds had happened.

It s better not to talk on cell phones.

Eve grunted. Right. I get it. It s a cop thing.

Vera forced a patient smile. Yeah. It s a cop thing. Transcripts of text messages and cell phone conversations can be subpoenaed for use in trials.

Eve s face paled. She crossed her arms, matching Vera s stance. You think that will happen?

Vera s jaw gapped. Did Eve not understand just how wrong this could go? Most likely would go. Another thought slammed like a punch to the gut. Was Eve drinking again? Taking some drug that made her so laid back?

Just stop. Give her the benefit of the doubt.

That depends, Vera said more pointedly than she should have-or maybe not, judging by her sister s unrelenting look of confusion- on whether we left anything incriminating behind.

Surprise widened Eve s eyes. Wouldn t most things have deteriorated beyond the point of being useful for forensic purposes by now?

Oh my God. Please tell me you did not google that. Eve s response sounded exactly like something she d read on the internet. Vera cringed. You are aware that a search history can be found even if you delete it?

I m not completely stupid, Eve snapped. She turned her attention back to what lay beyond the window. I know better than to look up something like that. One shoulder lifted in a shrug. That s what they preach in the movies and on all those cop shows.

Vera grabbed onto her patience and moved on. The emotional reality of what had occurred had temporarily set aside the other questions she had contemplated over and over on the four-hour drive here. Starting with: Explain to me how exactly this happened? She looked to her sister and waited for her to look back. And when? Luna didn t give me that much information-at least if she did, it didn t sink in.

Eve made a sound that was more a scoff than a laugh. Two local teenagers, one from town, the other from the Jennings farm next door, evidently had nothing better to do than to go poking around deep in the woods. You know how kids are. When the two grew bored on the Jennings property, they climbed the fence and started exploring on our property. Most people around town know Daddy doesn t live here anymore and Luna and I don t get out in the woods, so there s no fear of getting caught. I ve heard hunting dogs, even though we have signs posted all along the property boundary. She shrugged. Anyway, the kids basically stumbled upon the cave and went inside.

When did this happen? It was Monday, but school was out, so the teens could have been there over the weekend or this morning, for that matter.

After church yesterday afternoon. Eve rolled her eyes as she leaned against the window frame. I guess they don t teach the no trespassing part anymore. Anyway, the boys ran home and told Mr. Jennings. He followed them back to the cave and then called the police. After that, he came to the house and told Luna what happened.

Yesterday? Why didn t you or Luna call me last night?

I wasn t here, Eve said, her voice reflecting just how weary she was of the conversation. I had a rare weekend off. Suri and I went to Nashville. Luna didn t call me or you -Eve shifted to face Vera- because she figured it was remains from the Civil War or something. It wasn t until this morning when she heard about the purse and the suitcase that Luna realized it could be her .

Her. Sheree. The woman who only did one good thing in her whole short, miserable life, and that was to give birth to Luna.

Disgust mingled with regret filtered through Vera. Whatever else she did, it was essential she keep personal feelings out of this. Personal feelings were too easy for experienced interrogators to detect. Personal feelings permitted suspicious comments and actions to seep in during an interview.

Not that she was all that worried about being questioned by Sheriff Fraley. He d known Vera and Eve their whole lives. He would not view them as suspects under any circumstances . . . unless evidence forced him to do so, and even then he would give them the full benefit of the doubt.

Still, that uneasiness wouldn t relent. What if there was more to how this happened than Eve was telling?

She and Vera had always been extremely close. Closer than most sisters. The thing that happened more than twenty years ago may have even made them closer, in a twisted sort of way. All that said, they had been separated by geography for a very long time. Could her instincts about Eve have been compromised by time and distance? Maybe. Eve was a grown woman now. She was no longer the needy kid sister that Vera had protected and essentially raised.

This next series of questions would not go over well, but they had to be asked. Have you ever spoken to anyone besides me about what happened?

Are you f-ing kidding me? Eve rolled her eyes and shook her head. Yeah, I took my whole high school freshman science class on a field trip to that cave to play with the remains. It was the highlight of the year. A girl can t have too many friends, after all.

Vera refused to be shamed into silence. These were necessary questions.

You started drinking when you were fifteen, Vera reminded her, frustration and no small amount of impatience igniting. How many times did Daddy have to pick you up from a party where you got shit faced and somebody s parent called him? What about after high school, all the times you were arrested and thrown into jail? Or rehab? The question is a valid one-no matter how badly you want to pretend those things didn t happen.

The glare that arrowed her way was lethal. I never told anyone, Eve snapped. As drunk as I have been at times, I have never been that drunk.

Still not convinced, Vera forged on. What about blackouts? I seem to recall you had a few of those.

Eve nodded, her lips pursed tightly. Yes. Some alcoholics have blackouts when they go on binges. I was one of them.

Defeat twisted inside Vera. Then you can t say with any real confidence that you never told anyone.

For a time her sister said nothing. Really, what was there to say? They could be in serious trouble here. Vera wondered if Eve had heard about Memphis. Probably. The story had been on the national news for three days now. But then Eve was not like other people. She wasn t big on news. She read the obituaries. When asked about her obsession with reading obits, she insisted it was only to see who had picked the competition over her. According to Eve, funeral homes were very competitive.

Sometimes Vera worried that her sister had a far too unhealthy obsession with death and the dead, period. After what happened, she supposed it wasn t so surprising. Just look at her own decision to go into law enforcement. She d never once considered that route until her sophomore year at university, then suddenly it was all she could think about. If the full story came out, who wouldn t see that as odd?

Vera let go a heavy breath. There were so many scattered pieces and unexpected turns related to what had once been their lives, she was no longer sure of anything.

I, Eve said finally, her voice firm, have been sober for seven years. I would think that if I d told anyone about what happened, this would have happened way before now.

A reasonable expectation. Considering the way Eve used to drink, more often than not with other off-the-rails drunks, if she had told anyone, that person likely hadn t remembered a word of the conversation.

You re right. Vera turned to her. I wasn t thinking. And I certainly wasn t trying to make you feel bad by bringing up those unpleasant parts of the past. It had to be done, that s all.

Even if all is revealed -Eve met her gaze- what happened wasn t our fault. We shouldn t take the fall for a murder we didn t commit.

Vera scrubbed at the tension in her forehead. Let s hope it won t come to that. She recentered her thoughts in an effort to look at the situation objectively. First thing we need is to know exactly what they ve found and deemed as evidence.

Sheree was dead, and her remains had been discovered. Nothing they could do about that now. At this point, it was all about damage control, which required objectivity and emotional distance.

The three of us own this farm jointly, she went on. We have a right to know what s happening on the property. Vera set her hands on her hips. I ll go out there and demand a briefing. I m sure Sheriff Fraley will oblige.

Property owners had a right to be kept informed unless there was reason to keep certain details from public consumption or if one or all property owners became suspects. Things would change drastically at that point. Luna had obviously given permission for the local cops to search the cave and remove the remains. Vera would have done the same had she been here.

That brings up something else you should know, Eve said, drawing Vera from the uncomfortable but necessary thoughts.

What? What could be worse than their stepmother s remains being found in the cave where they had put her cold, dead body all those years ago?

The memories flooded her before Vera could stop them. Water dripping everywhere. Luna screaming. Eve bellowing. Their father nowhere to be found.

She banished the memories. No looking back.

The sheriff, Eve said. He s someone you know.

Well, duh. Fayetteville was a small town. Everyone knew everyone else. How could I not know him? He and Daddy were close friends. Don t you remember? His wife was our favorite teacher. For Christ s sake, Fraley was the one who conducted the investigation into Sheree s disappearance.

Eve moistened her lips, as if what she had to say was going to burn or be too bitter to bear crossing over them without preparation. There s someone new now. Sheriff Fraley retired two years ago. A few months after Daddy had to be put in Hillside.

Oh. Well damn. So much for having an in with local law enforcement. Who replaced him?

Eve held her gaze a moment before answering. Vera had a bad, bad feeling about what was coming next, if the dread in her sister s expression was any measure.

It s Bent. Bent took his place.

What? Vera felt confident she had heard wrong. The very notion was ridiculous.

Bent is the sheriff now. He did his time in the military, retired actually, then came home and got elected as sheriff of Lincoln County a few months later.

Why did Sheriff Fraley suddenly retire? Is he ill? The man had been sheriff of Lincoln County for nearly forty years. Mostly Vera asked this question because she could not-would not-allow the other information to assimilate completely just yet.

Multiple sclerosis. Mrs. Fraley had to retire to take care of him. He s like a hermit now. Rarely leaves the house.

Vera flinched. Nodded her understanding. I m sorry to hear that. This . . . this Bent thing still didn t make sense. In large part due to the fact that she didn t want to accept the idea. As if that would make it cease to be. Sheriff Fraley had no deputies interested in the position?

There was a big shake-up in the department, Eve explained. A couple of the senior deputies had gotten involved with some drug dealer out of Nashville. Evidently several others had taken bribes to look the other way. Bent has been working hard to rebuild the force since he took over. He had to do some serious housecleaning. It hasn t been easy for him. He s taken a lot of shit.

But . . . Vera hesitated still. The Bent she remembered was a heavy drinker-possibly an alcoholic. At sixteen all she d cared about was the idea that this gorgeous guy made her feel better. Didn t matter that he was twenty-one and had been seen with most of the women his age or older in town at one point or another. How many husbands had sworn to shoot him on sight for messing around with their wives?

Forever ago. All of it . . . felt like a different life. Yet somehow, that distant past was suddenly bursting its way into her present.

He s not the same guy you remember, Eve said, while Vera continued to struggle for a reasonable response.

You mean, she said, unable or unwilling to fully rein in the bitterness, the womanizing alcoholic?

Eve made a face. He still drinks. He s just smarter about it these days. He said the military taught him how to be patient . . . to use restraint in all things. Once in a while he even comes to the AA meetings I lead. He sits in the back and says nothing, but he s there. I asked him one time why he came, and he said just to prove he could.

Didn t sound as if he d changed much to Vera. Why wouldn t you tell me this?

Why would I? Eve leveled a pointed gaze on Vera. You almost never come back home anyway, and the few times you have, you left so fast no one knew you were ever here. Didn t seem relevant. Or maybe I just didn t want to deal with this .

Vera supposed she deserved that one. You re right. Besides, what Bent did or does is completely irrelevant to me, unless it s related to this Sheree situation.

For all she knew he could have a string of former wives and neglected children.

He never married, Eve said as if Vera had made the statement aloud.

I m sure he found the idea of having just one partner too boring. Vera stared out the window once more to prevent her sister from seeing the surprise in her eyes. Not that his marital status affected Vera one way or the other. She could not care less.

No idea. But he s a damned good sheriff. Everybody likes him now that he s proven himself. Except some of the former deputies. They give him a little trouble now and then. But he handles it well.

Sounded as if her sister was a fan. You talk to him often?

Sure. He asks me about the bodies sometimes.

Vera s instincts stirred. About the bodies?

She nodded. The bodies from crimes-victims. He asks, you know, my thoughts on the matter.

The memory of her sister sitting next to the bathtub after having found their mother plowed into Vera s brain. Vera had been on the phone with one of her friends. The only phone in the house had been in the living room. She glanced around. In this very room. There was an extension in the kitchen now, but that hadn t been added until later. Her gaze settled on the landline that sat on the end table next to the sofa. She d been deep in conversation when she heard Eve calling for their mom. By the time Vera realized something was wrong, ended the call, and got up the stairs to the bathroom, her sister was weeping frantically. Her best friend Suri was attempting to comfort her.

Their mother was dead in the bathtub. The doctor had warned days before that it wouldn t be long. That day, they checked on her first thing when they arrived home from school. Then, while Vera was busy on the phone, Eve and Suri helped her into the tub. She wanted a bath, Eve explained later. Evelyn urged her and her friend to go to Eve s room and play. She would let Eve know when she was ready to get out. A little while later, after Evelyn called for Eve, she went to the bathroom and found her unresponsive. Eve had never said, but Vera suspected she hadn t gone immediately when their mother called. It was a question she never intended to ask. Their mother was dying. A minute one way or the other was not the reason she died, and Vera would never say or do anything to make Eve feel in any way responsible or guilty.

But the part that stood out most in Vera s mind was the way Eve had insisted that their mother couldn t be dead because she had told Eve not to cry and that everything was all right after Eve found her. No matter how many times Vera asked her, Eve said the same thing. She came into the bathroom, found their mother unresponsive, and started to cry. Only eleven at the time, Eve recognized their mother was dead. Once she d started crying, Eve claimed their mother opened her eyes, smiled at her, and told her not to cry. Suri didn t come into the room until after that part, so she hadn t been able to say one way or another.

Looking back, Vera understood that her sister had been traumatized and wasn t thinking rationally. But there had been other instances. Folks in small communities tended not to miss paying their respects when a neighbor or friend passed. It just wasn t done. Vera and Eve s parents had taken them to viewings and funerals dozens of times during their childhood. On several occasions Eve whispered to Vera and asked why the person in the coffin was looking at her. Since the corpse s eyes were closed, that was impossible. After the first time, Vera asked her mother about it. She suggested that Eve had a vivid imagination and said not to worry about it.

Vera moistened her lips, giving herself time to carefully choose her words now. What sort of thoughts does Bent want to know?

Eve s gaze narrowed. You know I get these feelings about people who ve died. Instincts , I suppose you d call them.

She had stopped mentioning that dead people looked at her or spoke to her after the last time, when their father insisted on taking Eve to see a psychologist. Vera had figured the whole thing was Eve s way of punishing their father for remarrying so quickly after their mother s death. Two months. He d married only two months after she was buried. And he d been dating Sheree weeks before that obviously, since Luna came only six months into the union. Worse, he d married a woman who had just turned thirty, and he had been fifty-two. It happened. As an adult Vera thought nothing of those sorts of age differences. But as a fifteen-year-old who d recently lost her mother, the whole thing had been disgusting.

I remember, Vera said, careful not to sound judgmental.

Eve stared out the window once more. Did Daddy ever tell you about what happened to me?

Vera tensed and felt a frown tugging across her brow. What re you talking about?

He didn t tell me either until I was thirty-two. Just before he started forgetting my name.

Dementia did that. What did he tell you?

When I was five, we were all at old man McCallister s funeral.

Vera smiled. The drugstore owner. He always gave us cherry colas from the soda fountain.

That s the one, Eve confirmed. Anyway, when everyone went home, our parents thought I was going with our grandparents.

They only had one set of grandparents around growing up. Their mother s parents had divorced and moved away.

Didn t you? Vera vividly remembered Eve staying with their grandparents often. Vera had preferred being home, but Eve had adored their paternal grandmother. They had a special bond. And the same nose. Vera s lips twitched with the need to smile at the random thought.

Not that time. Eve shook her head. That time I had fallen asleep under the chairs. Grandma thought I went home with Mama and Daddy. When I woke up, I was alone in the funeral parlor. The guy on duty was busy in the office with a girlfriend and hadn t put the bodies away for the night. There were three in different parlors. By the time the guy got around to putting them away, he found me asleep-in one of the caskets with the deceased. He freaked out. Mama said when they picked me up, he was the one crying. I just kept saying that the lady in the casket said she was lonely, so I climbed in there with her.

Vera had never heard that story. Wow. Were you terrified?

I don t really remember it, but probably not so much. I like dead people. She breathed a laugh. At this point, maybe more than the living.

Vera wasn t sure this was a good thing, but her sister had always marched to her own drumbeat. I feel that way sometimes myself. She exhaled a big breath, mostly at the idea of Gray Benton, a.k.a. Bent, being sheriff. I should get out there. Find out what I can.

Eve touched her arm. You think we ll be okay?

Vera managed a smile. We will.

Probably a lie, but there was no need to assume the worst at this early stage.

Who knew? Maybe the new sheriff would prove their saving grace.

It was the least he could do after what he d put Vera through all those years ago.