40

Monroe Residence

Red Hill Road, Fayetteville, 11:00 a.m.

Vera had made calls and stopped at the homes of several of her father s friends. Keller Cole, a longtime work friend of her daddy s, had passed away last year. His wife remembered nothing relevant to the time in question. With no luck there, she tracked down Dennis Haynes. Haynes was the coworker who had, according to the FBI, lent his car to her daddy to go home the day Sheree . . .

Anyway, the man s wife informed Vera that her husband wasn t taking visitors. He had a terrible, highly contagious virus and was sequestered to the bedroom. She would have him call when he was well enough to chat.

Vera didn t believe her for a minute, but there was nothing to do but let it go until another time.

George Monroe was next on her list. She walked up onto his porch and rang the bell. Monroe had been the managing partner of Monroe Floyd Distributors. Besides Higdon, he was her last hope as far as her daddy s closest friends went. But how personal did her daddy get with the man who was his boss? Maybe not so much.

Her best bets were Haynes and Higdon.

The trouble was, if Haynes was avoiding her, and Higdon would certainly be, then Monroe was it for now-assuming he was home and available.

The door opened, and an older, very petite woman peered up at Vera. Her gray hair was fastened into a neat bun, and the pink lipstick she wore matched her dress. Whatever you re selling, I m certain we re not interested.

It wasn t until she spoke that Vera remembered the lady. Back in the day-in the before -Mrs. Joslyn Monroe was known for her homemade tea cakes. Vera and Eve had loved when gatherings were hosted by the Monroes just for those tea cakes.

Mrs. Monroe, you probably don t remember me. I m Vera Boyett, Vernon and Evelyn s daughter.

Her mouth formed an O before her lips spread into a wide smile. My goodness, you re so grown up, I didn t recognize you. Come in!

Before the door was closed behind Vera, the woman was already shouting for her husband. George! You won t believe who s here.

George, ninety if he was a day, shuffled into the entry hall. My goodness. Look at you. He grinned. It s like Vernon said, you re the spitting image of your mother.

Vera s chest constricted. Thank you. It s nice to see you, Mr. Monroe.

Good gracious, call me George.

Call me Lyn, his wife tossed in. Now come on in here.

Once they d ushered her to the living room, Mrs. Monroe-Lyn-insisted on serving iced tea. George told Vera all about how he and her father had lunch once a week all these years until just recently. But now Vernon, more often than not, didn t recognize him. Then he moved on to a more pleasant topic, explaining how his sons had taken over the company and business was booming. He had four grandchildren-he showed her photos of every single one-and half a dozen great-grandchildren. He and Lyn were living the good life enjoying all those grands.

Vera suddenly wondered if her daddy had ever resented the fact that neither she nor Eve had given him a grandchild.

She brushed aside the unexpected thought. I m sure you ve heard about the trouble at the farm. We re just stunned at all that s been found.

It s quite the shock, he agreed. We were all convinced that Sheree had taken off on Vernon. No surprise really. She had a certain reputation.

She did. Vera pursed her lips and gave a somber nod. It s just inconceivable that she s been dead all this time. We can t even imagine who would have wanted to kill her.

Lyn lifted her glass of tea but hesitated before taking a drink. I can tell you, she said with a knowing look at Vera. It was a wife, mark my word. That girl was just daring someone to come after her.

Now, now, Lyn. No need to speak ill of the dead, her husband warned.

Lyn made a tsk ing sound. Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Vera resisted the urge to smile. It was a sad and difficult time.

It was, Lyn agreed, then smiled. What a lovely young lady that Luna has become.

She has. Daddy raised her right.

He did, indeed. George assessed Vera a moment. I m sure the rumors about your father having been the one who did away with Sheree have been heartbreaking. But I can tell you, I find that impossible to believe. The man adored her.

Lyn shot him a look. He held up his hands, as if to ward it off. It s true, he did. Not like he loved your mother, of course. But he was smitten well enough.

Evelyn was the one he loved most, Lyn added. I m convinced Sheree took advantage of his loneliness and grief.

I will give you that, George confirmed.

Do you recall any particular tension going on between my parents in the two or three years before my mother died? Vera asked.

The two looked at each other, then shook their heads. No, George insisted. Your parents were the happiest couple we knew.

Lyn laughed. We were all jealous of how close they were. If there was ever any trouble, the two resolved it quickly and never once let on.

Vera bit her bottom lip, hesitating before throwing the next one at them. Then she went for it. What about any of the other friends? Any tension with them? I mean -Vera looked to Lyn- as you said, there were plenty of wives who were upset by Sheree.

George frowned, as if he were concentrating on the question. I can t recall any particular issues. He laughed then. That was the time frame when you and I were on the wrong side with each other.

Lyn nodded, her face somber. We almost got divorced twenty-six years ago, right after our youngest son graduated college. I had this strange idea that I married too young and hadn t experienced life the way I should have.

Thankfully, George put in, she realized she was wrong.

Lyn made a little gasp. Now that I think about it, I believe Florence and Charles were having a little trouble back then too.

George made a maybe-maybe-not gesture to back up the expression that insinuated the same. It was always difficult to tell when Florence and Charles were fighting about themselves or that pom- He cleared his throat. Their son. Preston was a bit spoiled by his mother, and Charles tended to get ill about it sometimes.

Vera laughed. It can be that way at times. Particularly with only children.

Lyn scoffed. Admit it. She said this to Vera. Preston was a little shit.

Oh my, George said. Perhaps we shouldn t go there, Lyn. After all, his father will likely be the one to pronounce us deceased when we die.

Vera struggled to keep the grin off her face. A very good point, George.

George s expression turned serious then. Vera, if your father or your family needs anything during this awful, awful mess, please come to us. We are glad to help.

Vera didn t hesitate. I could use a little assistance getting Dennis Haynes to talk to me.

Consider it done, George said. The man owes me. I overlooked many a Monday morning when he crawled in late after a weekend of too much drink.

Thank you, that would be much appreciated.

Lyn insisted that Vera stay for lunch, and as much as she wanted to rush out and find the next name on her list, she decided it was the least she could do after the couple had been so forthcoming.

Then she was going to find Pete Brooks if it took her the rest of the day. Although he certainly wasn t on the friends-of-her-parents list, he was considered Garth Rimmey s closest friend.

Whatever he remembered about that time frame, Vera wanted to hear it.

Kidd Road, Fayetteville, 3:30 p.m.

Vera had talked to a dozen people and driven to more locations. But she hadn t found Pete Brooks.

Anywhere.

Bob Phillips, the man who operated the gas station on Pulaski Highway just outside the city limits, had said the last he d heard, Brooks lived in the Harms area on Ables Road.

Vera had headed there next. She hadn t heard from Bent or her sisters-which hopefully meant there had been no more drama at the house or the cave. Until some other action occurred to change her course, she intended to use every minute available in search of answers.

If she were lucky, George Monroe would come through and have Dennis Haynes call her. Unless, of course, the FBI had warned him not to talk to anyone involved with the case.

She rounded the next curve and found herself staring down a black SUV in her lane.

Her foot went instantly to the brake.

The SUV rocketed forward-still coming directly at her-in her lane.

Her heart rushed into her throat. She cut the steering wheel hard to the right. Rammed the accelerator. Her head hit the glass in her door as her vehicle bounced so hard she lost control of the steering wheel . . . her head hit the window again.

The shoulder belt tightened, jerking her against the seat until she couldn t breathe.

And then everything stopped . . . except the airbag.