42

Sunday, July 28

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 7:00 a.m.

Vera s head ached.

She closed her eyes and tried to force the pain away. No such luck.

Beyond the pain, her mind kept replaying the way Bent had watched her in the hospital. His hovering had made her almost as angry as the driver who d run her off the road. She refused to acknowledge the other feelings his intent attention had roused. A quick call this morning to check on her before she d been ready to get up, much less to hear his voice, hadn t helped.

Not going there, she muttered.

She got up, grimaced. She needed to dig through her closet for something else to wear. She d had a long, hot bath last night in hopes of heading off some of the aches and pains today would bring. Hadn t worked as well as she had hoped. Passing the dresser on the way to the closet, she got a look in the mirror and gasped. The bruise on her forehead was more visible now. The skin around the stitches was red and angry. Dark circles had formed beneath her puffy eyes. Damn.

She turned away from the mirror. Too early for that.

With effort and lots of groaning, she dressed and made her way downstairs.

Morning, Vera said as she joined Eve in the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee had lured her here.

Seated at the table, Eve cradled her mug in both hands. Morning. How re you feeling?

Not great, but I m aware it could be worse, Vera admitted as she poured a cup of badly needed coffee. My head hurts, and I m sore from the seat belt and airbag, but otherwise I m okay.

Eve considered her for a moment. Do you really think it was the judge?

Vera had told her about the visit to Preston s home and the calls and visits to the others.

Of course I can t be positive, Vera admitted as she slid onto a stool. But the aftershave is difficult to get past.

Eve made a face. He always thought he had to have the best of everything. His mama spoiled him rotten.

She did. Vera hated passing judgment on a man she hadn t seen in more than two decades, but it was difficult not to. Let s look at this from the perspective of what we know.

We know, Eve picked up from there, that Florence and Beatrice were aware of the two women in the cave. For sure they helped with putting the first one there, and I d be willing to bet any and everything that they did with the second one as well.

With all that s happening now, Vera offered, Florence may have asked Preston for help in protecting her secret. This is assuming she has no idea you saw them that first time.

Only Mama knew, Eve insisted. She never told anyone. I never told anyone.

Vera had to call her on that one. What about when you and Suri put Gates in there. She didn t ask about the others?

Eve stared into her coffee mug. I told her I couldn t talk about them. She lifted her gaze to Vera s then. I swear. That s exactly what I said, and she didn t ask questions. Suri isn t like that. She takes me at my word, as I do her.

Vera focused on her coffee for a few minutes. It wasn t that she didn t believe her sister or that what she was suggesting wasn t possible. It was simply unlikely that Suri would never tell. That said, she was willing to let it go for now.

I couldn t sleep last night. Eve lifted her gaze to Vera s. I kept thinking what could have happened to you, and it makes me sick.

Hey. Vera set her mug aside and took her sister s hand. I m okay. Really.

But if I hadn t told you the secret I shared with Mama, this might not have happened. I feel like it s my fault.

Vera took Eve s mug from her other hand and set it on the table, then she put her arms around her sister and hugged her. This is not your fault. Nothing you did or said had anything to do with yesterday. I m glad you told me.

Surprisingly, Eve hugged her back, but then quickly drew away. I know we don t see each other often enough, and we don t even call enough, but I couldn t do this life thing without you. Just knowing you re wherever you are makes me okay.

Come on now. Vera smiled. We re okay. Don t worry about me. I m not as easy to put down as you think.

Eve let go a big breath. Just be careful. Keep Bent close.

That might not be smart, Vera confessed.

A big grin spread across Eve s face. I knew it. You are still hooked on him.

Stop, Vera argued. We can be friends, I think. That s all this is, but I need to be careful with him.

Got it. Eve gulped down more coffee. Gotta go. Mr. Hamilton is waiting for me.

Vera frowned. Coach Hamilton from high school?

Eve nodded. Heart attack while mowing the lawn. His wife warned him that mowing the lawn in the heat at eighty wasn t smart, but he didn t listen.

He was eighty? Damn. The notion made Vera feel old.

Time flies, Eve said. See you later. She waggled her fingers and disappeared.

Somewhere between the kitchen and the front door, Vera heard her sisters talking. Luna must have come downstairs. It was rare that she slept this late. Maybe the trouble yesterday had kept her awake last night as well.

Luna rushed into the kitchen, already dressed for church-cute little yellow dress with matching sandals and purse. She looked like a doll ready to be boxed up and shipped off to a waiting little girl.

I m late for breakfast with Jerome and his family. She gave Vera a hug. Are you sure you re okay?

I m good. Vera smiled, ignored the pain in her forehead. Don t worry about me, and drive safely.

Luna backed away, her lips pouting. I will. You just stay home and rest today. Love you! She started to turn away, then hesitated. Oh, I borrowed one of your mother s photo albums. I know you were looking at them the other day. I saw a stack on the table in the library. I didn t want you to think one was lost. I had left it at Jerome s. I ve been putting together some album collages for taking with me when I move in with him. She smiled. Anyway, last night I finally remembered to bring it back. It s on the table in the library.

That was just like her little sister. Album collages. Vera had never heard of them. Thanks. Have a good day.

Luna waved, and then she was gone.

Vera finished her coffee and listened to the silence in the house. The big old grandfather clock in the hall started to chime and then made eight deep dong s for the hour.

She should get going. Maybe stop by Bent s and see what his plans were for the day. All she needed were her bag and her shoes.

The bag she vividly remembered leaving on the side table in the hall. Shoes too, she hoped. She groaned and scooted off the stool. In the hall she checked out a front window and confirmed the deputy on duty this morning was there. No matter that she refused to be afraid, she was no fool. Trouble could sneak up on the most highly trained individual.

She picked up her shoes, sat down on the bench, and tugged them on.

A knock on the front door made Vera jump. She d spoken to Bent, so it wouldn t be him. Eve would have called if she needed to talk further. Maybe Luna had forgotten something. But wouldn t she have just unlocked the door? Wouldn t be a reporter since a deputy was stationed in front of the house.

She could keep up the guessing game or just go to the door and find out who it was. With effort she got up, stretched her sides. Her ribs were sore. Her neck felt a little stiff as well. Forehead was still tender.

She peeked out the window and saw a deputy standing on her porch. A glance at the cruiser in the drive told her it was the one on duty.

Vera opened the door. Is everything all right, Deputy?

He gave her a nod. Yes, ma am, but there s a man here to see you.

Vera s gaze arrowed to the old-vintage, some would say-rusty, faded-red Mustang parked beyond the cruiser. No one she recognized. Dennis Haynes? She sure hoped so.

His name is Pete Brooks. He s a local. Bit of a deadbeat. The deputy glanced in the man s direction. I can tell him to get lost if you d like.

The old friend of Garth Rimmey. Talk about surprises. No. Thank you. Actually, I d like to speak with him.

Whatever you say, ma am. The deputy stepped off the porch and waved at the man in the Mustang, then hitched his thumb toward the house.

Vera watched as an older man, sixtyish, climbed out and started in her direction. He was tall. Slim. His hair was gray. Despite the heat, he wore biker boots with his jeans. A T-shirt and a leather vest. What looked like dog tags hung around his neck.

His gaze was steady on her as he climbed the steps and crossed the porch. He stopped directly in front of her. With him this close, she could see that he was nearer to seventy than sixty.

I hear you been looking for me.

Come in. Vera stepped inside, and he followed. She closed the door behind him, then gestured to the living room. Would you like coffee?

He chuckled. Only if there s whiskey in it.

Have a seat, and I ll see what I can do.

She walked to the kitchen and rounded up the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel s she d indulged in the other night. She poured a good portion into two mugs, then topped them off with coffee. This meeting might very well call for something a little stronger.

With the bottle tucked under one arm and the mugs in hand, she joined her visitor. Mr. Brooks was studying the framed photographs on the mantel.

You look just like your mama. He turned to her, accepted a mug.

And proud of it, she agreed. Vera placed the bottle on the coffee table and settled on the sofa.

Brooks sat in the chair that had been her daddy s favorite. What can I do for you, Ms. Boyett? He took a long draw from his spiked coffee.

Do you know anything about what Garth Rimmey was doing the day Sheree-my stepmother-disappeared? Vera sipped her own warm brew, flinched at the burn.

He studied her a moment. You sure you want to know?

Vera took another sip. This one went down a bit more smoothly. Life was full of firsts, and this was certainly her first time having whiskey before breakfast. I asked, didn t I?

He gave her a nod. Rimmey and I were buddies. We had a little business on the side-selling weed and a few other things. Anyway, that day we were at his place just chilling. Business wasn t usually very good on weekday mornings, so we were relaxing.

Another swallow of Jack and coffee slid down Vera s throat as she waited for him to go on.

Your daddy showed up about ten-ish. I can t tell you the exact time, but it was midmorning.

Vera held her breath. Why?

He frowned, took another drink. Why what?

Why did my daddy come to Rimmey s house?

He wanted to have a few words with him. Knowing when something was coming that I wanted no part of, I stepped outside for a smoke. I heard them arguing. Your daddy was telling him that he knew what he d been doing with his wife. Rimmey said something stupid like What you gonna do about it? Brooks snorted. To make a long story short, your daddy beat the shit out of him. Then he left.

When you say beat the shit out of him -

I mean, he blacked both his eyes, busted his lip. Rimmey thought his jaw was broken, but it wasn t. That kind of stuff.

Vera nodded. And you re sure it was my daddy.

Brooks laughed. Oh yeah. Me and Rimmey had driven by this place lots of times looking for Sheree, and we d watched the two of them, your daddy and her, once or twice when they were in town together. Believe me, I was well aware who Vernon Boyett was. Knew you too. He looked her up and down. You were a little spitfire. Had yourself a crush on Gray Benton.

Vera ignored the remark. What was my daddy driving that day?

He frowned. What?

Was he driving a truck? Her father had bought his truck brand new twenty-five years ago. Her mama had helped him pick it out. He had always loved that truck.

Brooks thought for a minute. No. It wasn t a truck. It was a car. A sedan.

You don t remember the model or the color?

He shook his head. Nothing that stood out. It was generic, you know. An old piece of shit.

Do you recall about what time my daddy left?

He made a face. Not the exact time, no. But what he came to do didn t take long. Twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Just one more thing, Vera said. Were you with Rimmey the rest of that day?

If you re asking if he killed her, the answer is no. He drank himself into oblivion after your daddy beat his ass. When I left that afternoon, he was passed out cold.

You re sure he didn t leave the house after you did.

Positive, because I stole his hidden stash while he was out cold and had myself a party at a friend s house. Rimmey was pissed the next morning. He laughed. Seriously pissed. If he d woke up later in the afternoon or even that night and found it missing, he would ve been pissed that day, and I would have known it.

Vera understood that he could be lying, probably was. Who do you think killed him a few days later? She held her breath. This was important. What happened to Sheree in that bathroom was an accident . . . Garth Rimmey s death was not. She didn t want her father charged with his murder. The best way to prevent that was to find out who did it or to find a solid alibi.

Some believe it was your daddy. Brooks leaned forward. But between me and you and the Jack sitting here, it wasn t. You see, Rimmey decided to get back at me for stealing his stash. He told my baby mama that I d been fucking around on her. She got so pissed off she called the cops and told them I d beat her up, so I got arrested.

Vera so hated men like this one. Did you? Beat her up?

He shook his head. I didn t touch her, but I did fuck Rimmey up. As soon as I made bail, I went to his house. He was out cold again, stupid bastard. I gave him what he deserved. I was a little over-the-line pissed off, so I sort of went overboard. Now mind you, he was breathing when I left him. He shrugged. Evidently he lost that ability at some point later that night.

You killed him. Vera tensed. Killers didn t generally tell people-particularly ex-cops-about their murders.

I didn t say that. He finished off his drink. I said he was breathing when I left him. You wouldn t want to go around telling folks I did something I didn t.

Vera held up her hands. It s usually better if you do the telling yourself. That s how plea deals are made.

Well, if you do decide to spread rumors about me, I d just have to swear that it was your daddy. That I witnessed the whole thing. I don t figure you want me doing that. Brooks stood, indicating the conversation was over.

Nice close. He was counting on her need to protect her father as insurance.

It appears folks around here like their secrets, she suggested, rising to her feet to look him more directly in the eyes. Otherwise, I wouldn t have ended up in a ditch last evening.

I heard about that, he said with a nod. Some guys-women too-think they own the road. You should watch yourself, because there are folks who will do anything to keep their secrets.

With that warning, he walked out of the living room and exited the house.

Vera was too absorbed in his final statements to react for a moment. The man had literally confessed to murder in her living room. But it was the other part that made her linger.

There are folks who will do anything to keep their secrets.

Her phone rang, the shrill sound making her jump and echoing through the big old empty house.

Where had she left it?

Kitchen.

By the time she reached it, it had sounded off for the third time. Bent s name flashed on the screen. She hit Accept in the nick of time. Hey.

It s me.

Like she didn t know. He surely knew she d added him to her contact list, but that was the way he d always identified himself-way before she d had a cell phone.

You holding up okay?

Sure. She touched her aching forehead. How s your day going? It was Sunday. Maybe he was at home taking care of things like those horses.

Busy. I m at the office going through reports and all the other routine stuff I ve ignored all week. I have a meeting with Gallagher and Trotter in five minutes, but I wanted to call you first. I have some good news to pass along.

Vera dared to hope that he d spoken to Preston Higdon and the judge had confessed to breaking into her house and running her off the road in an effort to protect his mother.

Don t hold your breath.

I got an email from the lab in Nashville. A guy there did me a favor and expedited the review of your mama s remains. They found no evidence of past abuse or strangulation. No fractures of any sort.

Relief rushed through Vera, no matter that she had known this would be the case. Thanks. I hope Higdon is satisfied. He did nothing but waste the county s money and make a fool of himself.

He s not returning my calls this morning, so I m guessing he s heard and feeling embarrassed. Oh wait. It s Sunday. He s probably at church.

Thanks for letting me know. Vera wished she could see Higdon s face when he heard the news.

There s something else.

Bent s tone set her on edge. Ugh. She did not want any more bad news. Don t make me wait, Bent. Just tell me.

The judge doesn t have a black SUV, but his administrative assistant has one. A black older-model Suburban.

It had to be him! A fresh wave of outrage swept through Vera. No matter that she was aware black was one of the most common colors of SUVs on the road, she couldn t help seeing this as confirmation.

I need you to listen to me, Vee. I m going to interview the assistant tomorrow. I ve already set it up. Then I ll talk to the judge. Do not-and I mean do not-call him or go see him. I need to do this by the book. Got it?

Vera knew all about the book, damn it. She wanted to race over to his house right now and confront him. But Bent was right. This had to be strictly by the book.

I will not contact him in any manner. She grinned. You know what this means, she said, hoping he saw the bigger picture. Preston doesn t want me digging into what happened to those two women. He has to be protecting his father.

His mother as well, but Vera couldn t say that part without explaining how she knew the woman was involved in any capacity.

I think you are definitely onto something, Bent agreed. All you have to do now is be patient and let me do my job.

I can do that, she promised, though her record to date was not so good.

I feel like, he said slowly, I should come over and babysit you.

No, she argued. I m fine. Really. Just bored. I intend to go through all those photo albums again to make sure I didn t miss anything. Do not worry about me. With all that had happened, she wanted to revel in those good times from the past. To soak up the memories.

I need you to stay home, Vee. Just take a break.

Fine. Fine. I ll be here taking a break. Geez.

I m coming over at noon-right after my meeting, he warned. Bringing lunch. Mexican or Chinese.

Chinese.

I ll see you then.

Don t forget the chopsticks. Vera ended the call and slid the phone back into her hip pocket.

She went to the library and surveyed the shelves of albums. No one had been better at documenting the family history than Evelyn Boyett. Her mother had taken loads of photos at a time when it wasn t nearly as convenient as it was now.

The album Luna had borrowed lay on the table. Vera sat down and opened it. The first photos were from her thirteenth birthday. She smiled. This was before . . . before the cancer. Before all the pain and tragedy.

She slowly flipped through the pages. The memories tugging at her heartstrings. Their family really had been so happy.

A big Fourth of July bash showed the Fraleys, the Higdons, and the Boyetts together at the Higdon home. Considering the number of people mingling in the backyard, there must have been at least a hundred people in attendance. As Preston said, his mother had been a party animal in her day. Probably still was.

As Vera studied the photos, she noticed a lot of kids around her and the judge s age were at the party. Seniors mostly. Vera was sure he had liked showing off. They had a pool and a massive pavilion for just this sort of gathering. This would have been the last big family bash before he went off to Harvard. Some of the kids Vera recognized, but they were all older than her by a couple of years.

She started to turn to the next page but hesitated. She leaned forward and peered at one photo in particular . . . there was a girl standing at the edge of the shot. Long blonde hair. Long tanned legs.

Vera s heart stumbled.

Latesha Johnson.

She turned the page, studied the other dozen or so from that day, but a single photo was the only one that included Latesha. Vera turned back to that photo.

This was evidence the Higdons had known the first victim to end up in that cave.

Apparently the sugar daddy in question was dear old Dr. Higdon. Vera snapped a pic of the photo, then another, zooming in close on the face.

She sent Bent the photos in a text message and suggested he compare them to the photo Russ had given her. No sooner than the text was delivered, her cell vibrated, almost making her drop it in surprise. How had he responded that quickly? She took a breath and opened the text.

We need to talk.

Not Bent. She didn t recognize the number.

Who is this? She typed the words and hit Send.

Preston. Need to talk to you. Can you come to my house?

Vera had promised Bent she wouldn t talk to him . . . another text arrived.

It s important.

She thought of the woman in the photo . . . of the friend who d come looking for her. And then she considered the damned SUV that had almost gotten her killed.

She had to go. A quick reply that she was on her way zoomed off, sealing her decision.

With a grimace, she stood. That little voice she always ignored warned that she should call Bent or at least let him know what she was doing. But he was in that meeting by now. And the pissed-off daughter of two of the people the Higdon family had hurt wanted to do this herself.

She would call Bent after the meeting.

Vera had made it to the door when she realized she had no vehicle. Hers had been towed away from the ditch on Kidd Road.

She did an about-face and walked to the kitchen. Her daddy s truck keys hung on the rack next to the back door.

Maybe that old truck would start after sitting in the shed for two years. If not, she would just have to figure out another ride.

One way or the other, she was going.