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“Some things require a little more patience and compassion,” he suggested, dragging his head out of the past.

“Whatever.”

What Vee wanted was to sound totally unaffected. This was an archenemy from her high school days. For her, watching Elizabeth Baker squirm would be undeniably cathartic to some degree. He got that. Vee was only human. Except he knew Vera Mae Boyett better than that. She might pretend to be as cold as ice at times like this, but she wasn’t. It was the shield she held up to prevent anyone from ever thinking for one second that she was weak or soft.

This was the way she had learned to protect herself after one too many tragedies in her life. Everyone had their technique for healing ... and sometimes just for hiding.

Elizabeth reappeared at the door with the key. “I’ll wait here if that’s all right.”

Bent nodded. “Course. We’ll come back to you when we’re done.”

“Thank you, Bent.” More tears slid down Elizabeth’s face.

Vee turned away first, and Bent followed. The sound of the door closing was a sharp reminder that no matter how this ended, the trouble was far from over. Either the Bakers would be clawing their way out of deep shit or something worse was right here waiting to be discovered. Maybe both.

They entered the garage through the side door. The second key on the ring Elizabeth had provided unlocked it.

“Has anything been found in his car?” Vee asked as they climbed the stairs to the second-floor apartment.

“Nothing relevant to the case.” Bent pushed the key into the lock. “The man keeps his vehicle immaculate.”

“Maybe Conover should check the windshield and mirrors for any sort of oily residue that may have been a message.”

“Good idea.” Bent sent the necessary text. This time of year, folks often started their cars well before leaving for work, and windows would sometimes fog up. Baker could very well have gotten a message in that way. But he’d told his friend he’d found it under his windshield wiper.

Vee walked into the apartment. “He keeps his apartment in perfect order as well. I imagine he never got dirty as a child. Never left toys on the floor. Boggie would have flipped out.”

“Sounds about right,” Bent agreed, closing the door. “Where would you like to begin?”

“The mirrors,” Vee said. She walked to the bathroom, where there was the expected mirror over the sink as well as a full-length one on the opposite wall. She flipped on the light, then turned on the hot water in the shower and in the sink. “We can have another look around while we wait for the steam to fill the room.”

Bent asked, “Any place in particular you want to look?”

“He might have a message in his email,” she said as she closed the bathroom door, “but Conover has his laptop. He find anything?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s possible,” she went on, “that it was someplace Nolan didn’t notice, but that wouldn’t fit the Messenger’s MO. He wants his messages to be easily discovered. He always went to great lengths to ensure that happened.”

“In that case,” Bent allowed, “we can safely say Baker received nothing by email—assuming he didn’t delete it and then empty his trash.”

“Determining if he did that would take a much deeper dive.” She surveyed the main room. “If we don’t get anywhere with the mother, we could have Conover call someone with that particular skill set.”

Bent grunted his agreement. “How did the Messenger begin once he’d made his selection?”

“He made it a point to know a person’s routine.” Vera wandered through Baker’s main living area. “It was part of the excitement for him.Learning everything about them. Then doing little things to make the victim wonder. Make her sweat.” She glanced at Bent. “Check the refrigerator. If Nolan added creamer to his coffee each morning or had milk or whatever each night, we might find a message there. He may have noticed something and tucked it away to analyze later, then forgot it.”

“So we need to look at anything he would have done daily.”

“Basically.”

The search was on, this time for a written message that may have been overlooked before because no one was looking for a short note written in some manner in an unexpected place.

Long minutes later, Bent was confident there was nothing to be found unless it was on the mirror in that bathroom. Conover had confirmed there was no oily or soapy residue on the windshield of Baker’s car or on any of the car mirrors.

Vee opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Bent did the same, closing the door behind him.

And there it was.