31

Hillside Manor

Molino Road, Fayetteville, 7:30 a.m.

Vera adjusted the strap on her shoulder bag, mostly to buy time. She stood outside the door of her father s room. Visiting hours weren t until 9:00 a.m., but she d talked her way beyond the lobby. She had considered calling Eve to see if she could come with her, but ultimately she d made the decision to come alone.

There really was no firm reason she could pinpoint, just a feeling that she needed to speak with him alone. Needed to explain to him what was happening.

Possibly because she was terrified of what he might say, given the right prompts by anyone else.

Vera took a breath and reached for the knob. No time like the present.

She gave a short knock, opened the door, and stepped inside. With a big smile, she said, Good morning, Daddy.

Vernon Boyett sat in a chair, staring at the television. The sound was so low it was nearly muted. His hands were folded in his lap. The tan-colored sweatpants and matching tee made his skin look even paler. His hair had long ago grayed, and there was far less of it than in his younger days.

A smile tugged at Vera s lips. As a little girl she could remember thinking she had the handsomest daddy in all of Lincoln County. Her mother had been beautiful as well. They d made a gorgeous couple. How many times had Vera heard people say to her parents, My, what a beautiful family you have.

How had everything gone so wrong? The cancer. Damn it. It had taken their mother, and their father had fallen apart. The sisters had clung together like two desperate souls lost at sea.

I m ready for breakfast, her father announced, his attention settling on Vera.

It s me, Daddy. Vee, she said, walking closer. I thought I d drop by and see you this morning. You feeling okay? She sat down in the chair that stood to his left and shared the same side table.

He stared at her, studied her face closely for a while, then his lips spread into a smile. His face lit as if Jesus himself had taken a seat next to him. Evelyn, I m so glad you came. I sure have missed you.

Oh no, Da- Vera stopped herself. It s good to see you too. She held her breath, prayed her voice didn t give her away.

His expression turned anxious. I ve been so worried about what you told me. He shook his head. What if someone finds out? I don t know what I d do if there was trouble and you had to go away. What would the girls do?

Fear spread through Vera s chest. What did he mean? What had her mother done? She moistened her lips and considered how to respond. No need to worry. It s all going to be okay.

Please keep talking, Daddy.

All she needed was some idea of what the hell he was talking about. The image of those other two women s remains kept flashing in her mind like a fluorescent light going bad.

He shook his head again, tears shining in his eyes now.

Vera felt sick that she was in some way the cause of his pain.

I can see how you thought you were doing the right thing . . . He stared at his hands.

Vera held her breath. So often when he paused, he lost whatever he was saying or his grasp on where he was at the time.

His gaze lifted to hers once more. I should have taken care of it.

A new tension slid through her. She clamped her teeth together to prevent herself from saying a word. To interrupt him now would be a mistake.

I should have protected you. It was my place.

She leaned forward in anticipation of what he would say next.

He blinked. Forgive me.

What had he done? Vera silently screamed for him to go on. When he didn t, she offered, I forgave you a long time ago.

He smiled, the saddest expression Vera had ever seen. Her heart fractured just a little, looking at it. Oh Daddy, what did one or both of you do?

Be careful, he warned, glancing around as if he feared someone might be listening. A secret isn t a secret if anyone else knows.

Vera waited. Afraid to move . . . to breathe. Tension vibrated in the air while the seconds ticked off, and still he said nothing more. Eventually he shifted his gaze back to the television screen and that empty expression overtook his face once more.

Vera reached out, placed her hand over his. I love you, Daddy.

His attention shifted to her, but there was no recognition there. Yes, I m ready for breakfast.

A few minutes were required to gather herself together and prepare to leave. When she stood to go, he didn t look up, so she left him without saying more.

Her heart ached. She hated the disease. Hated the one that had taken her mother.

She dropped by the desk and told them he wanted his breakfast, and then she hurried from the facility, the disinfectant smell suddenly overwhelming. Outside, she sat in her SUV and cried. She hadn t meant to, but she couldn t stop the flow. Damn it.

After a minute or so, Vera pulled herself together and called Eve. They had to figure out what secret their parents had been keeping.

It couldn t possibly be as bad as the one she and her sister had kept for two-plus decades. Their mother had been far too kind and good to hurt anyone. Ever.

The call went to voicemail. Which meant her sister was in the process of preparing someone. Vera left a message for Eve to call as soon as she could.

Her sister needed to know about the exhumation and . . . whatever the hell their father had been talking about.

She started the engine. Thought about going to Bent and telling him what her father said, but she couldn t. Not yet. Not until she knew more.

But she had to do something.

She had gone through the house and found nothing.

There were the barn, the chicken house, and the well house. Oh, and her mother s potting shed.

Feeling a purpose now, Vera headed for the farm.

With the discoveries in the cave, it was a miracle there hadn t already been a request to search the remainder of their property, including the house. No doubt because Bent was in charge. But the FBI was involved now. They were likely planning the search at this very moment.

Vera pressed harder on the accelerator.

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 10:00 a.m.

She started with the barn.

Because it was closer to the cave, she wanted to get it done first. She found nothing but old farm tools and implements. A tractor, the lawn mower, and a whole host of yard gadgets. There were still a few old bales of hay in the loft. She checked around and under those. Heavy suckers.

She poked her head into the old shed that stood closer to the house and found nothing but her father s truck. Thankfully it was unlocked, so she had a look inside. Gas receipts, tag receipts, and little else. Then she checked the well house and the chicken house. After their mother died, the chickens had all eventually disappeared. Whether they d been nabbed by predators or had just wandered away to another farm, Vera had no idea. At some point her father had cleaned out the chicken mansion, as her mother had called it, so going through it was easy enough.

The chicken house had actually been an old smokehouse her father had turned into a glorious home for chickens just to make her mother happy. The old coop had been a shabby little thing, not much bigger than a doghouse. The new one had been for Evelyn s thirty-fifth birthday. Vera had only been seven, but she remembered how happy her mother had been. They had danced around the yard. Eve had only been two, but she d tried to join in and kept falling on her backside.

Her heart aching with the memories, Vera opened the door to her mother s potting shed. She probably should have looked here first, but she had recognized the task would not be an easy one. Her mother had spent so much time in this shed. She had loved it . . . touched every single thing inside.

The heat was slightly lower in the shady interior, but it was still sweltering. It smelled earthy, with an underlying hint of various fertilizers-organic ones, of course. Her mother had been very conscious of those things. She doubted her father had come back in here after her death. Vera and Eve only had once. They had sat in the middle of the floor and cried.

Evelyn s gardening tools hung on the hooks she had organized over her potting table. Every single thing, from pots to seedling trays, was in its place. Containers that held soil and other items required for gardening lined one wall. There were lots of windows. Vera touched her mother s gloves. Smiled as she traced the handle of her favorite garden trowel.

When she was able to move on, she searched the antique apothecary cabinet her mother had used for seed packets and other small items. Drawer after drawer, she picked through the contents.

When she had exhausted all possibilities, she collapsed onto the wooden stool next to the potting table. There was nothing here except the usual gardening stuff.

She reminded herself that this was the way of investigations: finding evidence was never as easy as you hoped it would be, even when all appearances suggested it should be. There were moments in every investigation when the aha finds came unexpectedly quickly, but there were far more moments when they came slowly and miles apart.

Vera stepped outside. The bright sun blinded her for a moment. She closed the door and used her forearm to swipe the sweat from her forehead. Surely her mother had used a fan or something when working out here. More likely she came out early, before breakfast, and did her work.

The twinge in her hip wasn t so pronounced as she walked back toward the house. She suddenly stalled. Beneath her feet, the stepping stones her mother had made by hand captured her attention. Small white stones embedded in concrete. Vera s heart stumbled. Each around the size of a dollar coin. River rocks. Her mother would use the white or light-colored ones around a darker one, aligning them in the pattern of a daisy. Eve and Vera had loved helping with the simple design. Evelyn had likely chosen it for that reason.

There had been several of those same stones in the cave at each place where remains had been discovered. Could have been there already, Vera argued with herself. The stones didn t mean her mother or Eve had put them there. But there hadn t been others readily visible in the cave.

Vera wilted, her gut seizing with the need to empty its contents . . . to purge from her body the very thought swimming through her brain.

She thought of the cross necklaces, the poses, and now the stones. This was simply one too many coincidences.

Vera didn t believe in coincidences. Her father s fears confirmed what Vera did not want to see.

The other remains . . . the two women . . . somehow her mother was involved. It was the only explanation. But why? Because of her father? Had he been having an affair then too? Was Sheree not his first betrayal? Could her mother have known Norton Gates?

Jesus Christ. Her heart felt on the verge of rupturing. All of this seemed to point at her parents.

But what about the cross necklace and the stones with Sheree s remains? Her mother had already been dead when Sheree ended up in that cave.

Their father? Not likely. He d gone to church to make Evelyn happy. Buying a cross on a chain to leave with Sheree-particularly if he d murdered her-wasn t logical. The stones were something she and Eve had done with their mother. Vera sure as hell hadn t put them in that cave.

Eve.

Had to be. Vera had known she was hiding something.

Forcing herself to move, she headed into the house. Right now, her goal was to stay calm. In the kitchen she washed her hands and forearms, then her face. She needed a band to put her hair up, and then she needed to think this through.

Her phone pinged with an incoming text. It was about time Eve got back to her.

Not Eve. Eric.

Check your email.

Vera opened her email app. She quickly scanned the information, her heart thudding faster and faster. Everything from Norton Gates s shoe size to his University of Alabama GPA was included. Eric had even spoken with someone at Calhoun College, and the class rosters for the fifteen years he had taught there before disappearing were waiting for pickup at the administration office.

Vera grinned. The man is a magician.

The same detailed report about Teresa Russ filled another page. She operated a private investigation agency in Huntsville. Interesting. The possibilities as to who had hired Russ to look into Sheree s case prompted an uneasy feeling. Was Russ actually an old friend that no one had known about . . . or had someone who expected the findings to lead back to the Boyett family hired her, and the friend thing was just a cover?

Only one way to find out.

Vera sent Eric a thank-you and grabbed her bag. It was time for a road trip. She wasn t waiting for Bent to give her whatever details he chose to share. Or for him to decide they could do the parallel investigation thing.

And she wasn t waiting for Eve . . . her sister had kept a huge truth from her, and Vera would learn the reason why. But not right now.

This road trip wouldn t wait. She needed these answers before anyone else.