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The call ended.

She glanced at the time on her phone. She had just over half an hour before the call. If she was going to be talking to anyone who’d been on the task force thirteen years ago, she would need real fortification.

Vera left the hospital and drove straight to the Dunkin’.

20

Lincoln County Sheriff’s DepartmentThornton Taylor Parkway, Fayetteville, 7:50 a.m.

Balancing her large coffee and the box of goodies she’d picked up on the way, Vera paused long enough to leave an individually wrapped donut on Myra’s desk. Then she walked into Bent’s office and offered him one of the three remaining in the little box.

“I made a stop on the way.” She’d inhaled two donuts in the car, but she wasn’t about to admit as much.

He accepted one of the two glazed confections in the box. Good. Chocolate covered was her favorite, and there was only one left. She snagged it and placed the container on his small conference table. She intended to float through the coming conference on a solid wave of high-octane sugar and caffeine.

She settled into a chair. “Who called to make this appointment?”

“Chief William Talbert.”

Will.Her former boss. Thirteen years ago he had been lead from the Memphis PD on the Messenger task force. “He knows the Messenger better than anyone.”

After Dr. Palmer Solomon had been brought in, Will sat in on all the interrogations. The monster’s confession had prevented his one surviving victim from having to testify in court. Gloria Anderson had been incredibly relieved. It was the one good thing the bastard had done.

Vera polished off her third donut, then licked chocolate from her fingers. Even now, all these years later, she wondered what had prompted the Messenger to leave Anderson alive. It was almost like he’d wanted to be caught that last time. The concept wasn’t impossible. Killers sometimes wished to be freed from their need to keep killing. But it was rare. Or maybe the idea was just another way Vera unconsciously justified her finding him. Certainly, it hadn’t been her experience or skill at tracking down serial killers. She’d been a newbie. The one thing she would never, ever tell anyone is that she felt a sort of connection to the man.

Dr. Palmer Solomon had liked her, Will had insisted. He’d been drawn to her youth and inexperience. Vera had no idea. All that mattered was that he appeared to have invited or lured her to the place where he’d been keeping Anderson. He practically surrendered to her after he finished playing with her and torturing Eric. She forced the memory away. At the time she’d been so wired up ... so charged with adrenaline, that capturing him—whatever the reason—was all that mattered ... and Eric had paid the price. This was the part Bent still didn’t know. If he fully understood just how close she had come to Solomon, he would have her in lockdown right now. That shared nightmare was part of the bond she and Eric had forged. Part of what had kept them friends long after the romance was over.

Still, when it was done, Solomon had confessed. It was as if he’d wanted one last playtime—with two cops no less. His statement had been brief and to the point. He had killed ten people. Names, dates, and locations were provided, along with enough pertinent details to convince all involved. And it was over.

Not a single event had been attributed to the Messenger since his incarceration.

Until now ...

Bent had set his half-eaten donut aside and now focused on his coffee and watching her lick her fingers. Vera cleared her throat andgrabbed a napkin. Thank God he had no idea she’d had two donuts besides the one he’d just watched her scarf down. She felt like a real hog.

“Deputy Houser said you stopped by to talk to Nolan this morning.”

Well hell.

“I couldn’t help myself,” she admitted. “I hoped after a night’s sleep he might remember something useful—like you said.”

Those blue eyes that Vera knew all too well studied her. “Did he?”

“Same story as last night.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “Have you talked to him?” she asked, turning the tables on him.

“I did. Like you said, his story hadn’t changed.” His gaze narrowed. “But I did get this feeling—”

Myra appeared at the door. “Sheriff, that call you’ve been expecting is on line one.”

Saved by the bell, Vera mused.

“Thanks, Myra. Close the door, please.”

Bent waited until the door shut before he tapped the necessary button to take the call, then set it on speaker. The phone was just an extension of the one on his desk. No fancy conference system.

“Sheriff Benton here. I have Vera Boyett in the office with me.” He glanced at her.

Maybe it was her guilty conscience, but she could swear she saw disappointment in his eyes. Damn it. The things she did might not always be the right things, but they were nearly always necessary. He should know that by now.