32
Calhoun College
Wynn Drive, Huntsville, Alabama, 11:50 a.m.
Chief Boyett?
Vera relaxed and managed a smile. That s me.
It was just like Eric to use her former official title. She appreciated the acknowledgment, but more importantly the assist with research.
The woman behind the counter, young enough to be a college student herself, smiled at Vera. I love Bon Jovi.
Thank God Vera had left a suit jacket in her SUV. Carrying one for those unexpected moments had become a habit over the years. Nothing she could have done about the worn jeans and the tee.
Vera placed a hand on her chest. Atlanta-probably before you were born.
Telly, according to her nameplate, smiled. If you need anything else -she tapped the folder- give me a call. I put my card inside. Eric said this was a very important case.
Eric. He was a charmer.
Thank you. This will help a lot.
Telly glanced around, as if needing to ensure they were still alone. I knew Professor Gates.
Anticipation zipped through Vera. Really? It s a shame he went missing the way he did.
Yeah, it was. She bit her lip. Your colleague told me his remains may have been found.
Eric shared the details necessary for getting what he wanted. Vera knew the routine too well. We believe so, she agreed.
To tell you the truth, I m not surprised. He had that god-complex thing, she said quietly, so quietly Vera barely heard her.
How so? Vera nudged. Was he some sort of genius? Or saw himself as one?
She shook her head. He thought he was a god-sexually, I mean. Like he thought all women wanted him and should submit to him. It was totally bizarre.
Vera s instincts went on point. Were there complaints from students or staff?
Nothing official. Just rumors. Gossip, you know.
I appreciate the information, and I ll pass that along to the investigators.
Don t use my name, okay? I don t want to get into trouble.
Don t worry, Vera assured her. I won t. She gave Telly a business card. Call me, please, if you think of anything else we need to know.
Telly looked from the card to Vera. I will.
Vera thanked her again and exited the office before anyone could stop her and ask for credentials. Thank you, Eric. And Telly.
Once she was in her SUV, she started the engine and cranked up the air-conditioning. And she locked her doors. She surveyed the parking lot. Deep breath. She opened the folder and removed the printed lists.
According to the email from Eric, Gates had spent most of his career teaching at Huntsville High School. He d also taught a microbiology class at the college. Vera felt confident what she was looking for would more likely be here at the college than at the high school. If someone lived in the Fayetteville area-someone who had access to the Boyett farm-he or she more likely met Gates at the college versus the high school.
If this was even the connection. Could be a dozen other things, but this was the simplest, most logical place to start.
There were sixty rosters. Two classes per semester, two semesters for each of the fifteen years on staff. Thankfully the rosters were only one page each. The classes averaged around twenty students, sometimes fewer.
Vera took a deep breath and began the tedious task of scanning the names. Her gaze snagged on a name from thirteen years ago. That same name appeared in two consecutive semesters.
Microbiology I and II. Suri Khatri.
Vera sank back into her seat. Defeat sucked at her.
Too soon to overreact, she told herself. Suri was a mortician . . . of course she d taken microbiology.
Vera blinked. This didn t mean anything. There were surely other Lincoln County residents in this list of more than a thousand names.
But this one was connected to the Boyett family . . . this one was Eve s best friend. Heart pounding, Vera ran through every single page-thank God the names were in alphabetical order-and checked for Eve. She wasn t there. Relief rushed through her. So maybe Eve hadn t lied about not knowing Gates.
Except Suri was her best friend . . .
Vera s pulse reacted to a new thought. Eve would help her friend, no question.
But which of them committed the murder? And why?
Russ Agency
9th Avenue SW, Huntsville, Alabama, 1:30 p.m.
The office space where Teresa Russ ran her PI agency was nicer than Vera expected. A neat brick building that was once an elementary school in a gentrified part of town.
Rather than show up cold as she d originally planned, Vera had called and made an appointment for 1:30 p.m. Russ had been happy to rearrange her calendar to make room for Vera. In fact, she had sounded ecstatic.
The door opened to a small lobby, which led into a series of office spaces, some still vacant but all newly updated. Russ had sent a text message with her photo enclosed. Vera had done the same. She d also reread the research material Eric had provided. Russ was sixty. She had been a licensed private investigator for close to thirty years. She d started right out of high school as the secretary for a low-rent PI in the West Huntsville area. When he passed away seventeen years later, she d taken over his shop and earned a damned good reputation in the business, if the reviews on Google were any indication. No issues had been filed with the Better Business Bureau. No reason not to expect the woman to be on the up-and-up.
If Vera were lucky, this could be a good lead. Though she still wasn t convinced Sheree had any real friends, particularly ones who remembered her twenty-odd years later. But if someone had hired Russ . . . that name could be very relevant.
A woman stepped from what Vera presumed was an office and smiled. Blonde. Trim. Attractive. Russ.
Ms. Russ. Vera offered her hand. Thank you for making time to speak with me.
Russ grasped her hand, gave it a shake. Of course. I appreciate you coming. I hoped Luna would pass my message along to you.
She actually passed it along to Sheriff Benton, but I m assuming the two of you haven t connected. Bent hadn t mentioned it anyway.
Russ took an audible breath. Let me say one thing up front: your sheriff did call me, but I chose not to speak with him. She put up her hands in a stop sign fashion. No offense to local law enforcement, but let s just say I have my reasons.
I see. Vera could live with that . . . maybe. Technically she was not in law enforcement. My sister tells me you knew her mother, Sheree.
Let s go into my office. I have my files there for you to see.
All right. Vera followed her into the office. Right off the bat Russ had evaded a question. Not a good sign.
Russ closed the door and gestured to a round conference table on the far side of the room. Vera took a seat, and the PI did the same. Hope had started to sing in her blood. She really needed this lead to be useful. The ability to protect her family was swiftly diminishing.
Russ placed her hands atop a file folder and looked directly at Vera. The truth is, I didn t know Sheree.
Oh hell. Vera put up a hand. Let me stop you right there. We are not-
Please, Russ interrupted, let me explain. I did not contact your family on anyone else s behalf. No one hired me to look into her case. I m not working with a reporter. My goal is to help you and me .
Vera had no patience for this sort of setup. You have two minutes, and then I m walking out. She so disliked having her time wasted. Mostly she felt sick at the letdown.
Russ nodded. I ll get right to it then. Twenty-five years ago, right after I took over the agency from my boss, I accepted a client whose daughter had gone missing. Mrs. Sutton didn t have much for me to go on, but what little she did know was that her daughter had gone to Fayetteville, Tennessee, and then simply disappeared.
Twenty-five years ago . . . the unidentified female remains instantly zoomed into Vera s mind.
Trina, her daughter, Russ went on, had recently been released from jail. She d done a year for a stack of petty charges that involved prostitution and drugs. It was a shit sentencing, but that s the way things were back then.
You re saying, Vera reiterated, she was released from jail, went to Fayetteville, and never came back.
Yes.
Why? Vera held her arms out. Did she know someone in Fayetteville?
Her reason for going to Fayetteville, Russ explained, was because just before she was arrested and ended up in jail, her best friend, Latesha Johnson, went missing-also while visiting your little town.
Two more sets of female remains. Bent s voice echoed in Vera s brain, and she felt suddenly ill.
Latesha, Russ went on, had told Trina about a rich boyfriend and how he was going to take care of her until they could be married. She wouldn t say his name. She insisted it was a big secret and that she would tell Trina when she could. One Friday, just over twenty-six years ago, she packed up and headed to Fayetteville, and Trina never heard from her again. Before she could look for her friend, Trina was arrested.
This Trina, Vera ventured, was sure her friend came to Fayetteville that weekend.
Oh yes, her sugar daddy -Russ made air quotes- was moving her into an apartment that weekend. His family was out of town, so he was available to get her set up. Russ shook her head. Bastard. You have no idea, as a PI, how often I see this sort of thing.
Vera could imagine. She wrestled with the need to stand up and pace. Trina gets out of jail a year later, she repeated to be sure she had this right, and hires you to look for her friend.
No. Russ shook her head again. She went looking for her friend and never came home again.
About a ton of worry settled on Vera s shoulders, flattening her rising hopes.
Two months later, Russ went on, her mother came to me. She hadn t heard from Trina in all that time. She was the one who hired me.
But, Vera challenged, forcing logic to rise to the top of the thoughts whirling in her head, if Trina was involved in drugs and prostitution, she may have met the wrong connection or just disappeared for whatever reason. It happens far too often.
I agree, but that s not what happened, Russ argued emphatically. Trina s mother was very well aware of her daughter s issues. But when she came home after doing her time, she was different. She d gotten cleaned up, and her first order of business was to find her friend . . . or find out what happened to her.
Any ideas on who this sugar daddy was? Vera chewed the inside of her jaw to prevent herself from spewing a dozen other questions. This was a solid lead for sure, but she needed more. She needed a firm connection to someone-any damned one.
Russ shook her head. Mrs. Sutton only knew that he was supposed to be important and wealthy. And, obviously, married-thus all the secrecy.
If Latesha Johnson frequented Fayetteville, Vera suggested, she may have known or hung out with Sheree. Wishful thinking maybe, but it wasn t impossible.
Perhaps. I ve found no proof of that. You see when Sheree disappeared, Russ explained, I went back to Fayetteville and talked to dozens of people. I hoped that maybe-since the circumstances were similar-someone might be able to help me in my search. That maybe Sheree had fallen victim to whoever caused Latesha and Trina to disappear. But I found not a single witness who had seen Sheree with Latesha or Trina. Is it possible they met at some point? Maybe. But I suspect Sheree was busy with trapping and keeping her own sugar daddy at the time Latesha and Trina disappeared.
Made sense in terms of the timeline.
What I did find, Russ added, was that Sheree s case was just as perplexing as the others. Whoever made her disappear did a damned good job.
Vera held her breath for a beat before forging on. Why come to my family now?
The remains, of course, but Vera wanted to confirm that she was indeed fishing for information in order to close her old case-not for a spot in this investigation to garner attention for her business.
Two other sets of remains-female-besides your stepmother, Russ said without hesitation, were found in that cave on your property. The estimated age of those remains fits the timeline in my case. At Vera s look of surprise, since few facts about the discoveries had been released, Russ shrugged. I made a friend in the Lincoln County courthouse all those years ago, she called me.
They haven t been identified, Vera said. A voice in the back of her mind was now shouting that this couldn t be right, when in truth, it made so much sense it was impossible for her to get a deep breath.
Russ picked up the file that lay on the table in front of her. I can share this information with you, she said. Who knows if those remains belong to the women I m looking for. If not, this could potentially rule them out. That would be tremendously helpful for me and for you.
Vera sat up straighter, leaned forward a bit in anticipation of whatever she was about to see. Her heart had started to race at the possibility, no matter that her brain wasn t ready to accept the idea. Putting a face and a name to human remains was always a great relief, as well as a huge responsibility.
It was the possible identity of the sugar daddy that had her logic debating itself.
These are copies, of course. Russ opened the file, and right there on top was a dental record. These are Trina s. There were none as far as I could find for Latesha. She had no family here, and I wasn t able to locate anyone who knew their names or where they might be.
Struggling to keep her respiration steady, Vera watched as she moved that page aside and uncovered a copy of an eight-by-ten photo.
These aren t the actual rings, Russ explained as she turned the photo around for Vera to see better, but Trina and Latesha had been best friends since first grade. When they were in high school, they got these rings, and both were still wearing them when they were last seen.
The rings were the sort that when put together formed the words Best Friends. Apprehension and more of that anxiety rushed into Vera s throat and stuck there, stealing her ability to comment.
Russ moved to the next page, a single sheet of typed notes. I don t know very much about Latesha, and Trina s mother wasn t sure about any potential distinguishing marks, but Latesha had a broken arm her junior year of high school. Her right arm, Mrs. Sutton recalled. Also, Trina wore a silver band with her prison release date engraved inside. I don t have a photo of it, but her mother bought it for her. She said this was to remind her daughter that her new life had started on August first that year.
Vera s pulse shot into hyperspeed.
Then Russ revealed the final item. Another eight-by-ten photo. This one of two young women. Twenty, maybe twenty-one years old. Vera s chest tightened to the point of crushing her ribs.
This is Latesha. Russ tapped the image of a striking blonde. This one -she pointed to the girl next to Latesha, a brunette, and gorgeous as well- is Trina. Both had just turned twenty-one that year. They had their whole lives ahead of them.
Vera stared at the items Russ had removed from the manilla folder. She d seen all but the dental records and the photo of the women before . . . in Bent s home office. Deep inside she knew without additional proof that these were the two women who had been murdered and hidden in that damned cave. The truth of it pounded in her veins. Would this sugar daddy story further implicate her father?
Could it have been him? Had her mother been protecting him?
Or the other way around?
Regret pierced her, denial right on its heels. Didn t matter. She knew what she had to do. To pretend otherwise would be preposterous at this point. Vera found her voice. May I keep these?
Yes, I made these copies for you. Russ placed the pages back in the folder and passed it to Vera.
All right. Deep breath. I ll see that the proper authorities receive them.
Considering what she had here, Vera didn t really get why Russ hadn t gone straight to the sheriff s office. Bent s image had been all over the news. He d asked for information in his press briefings. Not trusting the police didn t actually make sense in view of this kind of evidence.
Thank you. Russ smiled sadly. You may not understand this, and I apologize in advance if you don t. Making it in this business-as a woman-wasn t easy. My experience with the male-dominated world of criminal investigation-both private and civil-has been somewhat less than pleasant. Don t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for law enforcement, but I have rarely found the kind of support I needed there. She laughed dryly. It s a little better now but, as they say, nothing to brag about.
Vera struggled to keep her breathing level, waited for her to go on.
Anyway, when I learned about the remains being found on your family farm, I did some digging. I read about you, Vera. What happened in Memphis is a tragedy, but your reputation in law enforcement is nothing short of incredible. I don t know the sheriff there, and I damned sure don t know the FBI agents, but I feel like I know you from all I ve read. Help me give this mother some peace.
And there it was . . . the eight-hundred-pound gorilla had just been placed on Vera s back. No matter that this information might very well implicate her father in other affairs and possibly in murder-and maybe her mother in the cover-up-it was Vera s responsibility to do the right thing. Suddenly she wished she hadn t come . . . that she didn t know. But she did know, and there was no way to keep this a secret.
With the folder gripped in one hand, she reached for her bag. I ll be in touch.
Russ stood. I recognize this is a huge favor I m asking of you.
The woman had no idea.
But I genuinely appreciate your help.
Vera nodded, unable to trust her voice at this point. She walked out without looking back. Then she climbed into her SUV and got the hell out of there as quickly as she could. Once she was blocks away, she pulled over.
Hands shaking, she called Bent. He answered the same way he always did: Hey.
Vera took a deep breath. Have you changed your mind about working together? Their first official meeting had been delayed by the exhumation, and he hadn t attempted to reschedule. Admittedly, he had been a little busy.
No way. I m ready when you are, Vee.
Good. We need to talk in person. I can be at your place in an hour.