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“Great.” If thisErichelped find and neutralize this new threat to Vee and the citizens of Lincoln County, Bent could overlook the idea that Vee had obviously been involved at some point with the guy. Sure. Yeah. He could do that.

“Anything new with Nolan?” she asked. “I’m assuming forensics has come up empty handed. The Messenger never left evidence—ever.”

“Conover checked in an hour ago. He got zilch. I visited Baker again, and he’s sticking with his story that he remembers nothing new. His mama was there. Maybe he didn’t want to talk in front of her.”

“Are you still having the guard stay close whenever his parents visit?”

“I think we’re past that now. We have his statement. Any change he tries to make would seem suspicious.” He turned his head to stare directly at her. “What about you? Anything new you need to share?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve told you everything.”

“Good.” He let it go at that, no matter that he doubted she was being completely honest with him.

Not that he could blame her. He was just one of the many bad things that had happened to Vee before she left Fayetteville. He had made a mistake, but she had paid the bigger price.

When they were kids, he’d selfishly allowed her to fall for him. There were things she needed, like to go to college, and he certainly couldn’t help make that happen. Hell, he couldn’t have given her anything. He’d had nothing to offer except himself, and at the time, that wasn’t so much. But more recently, he had no excuse, and he’d still madea mistake. She had been back in Fayetteville for seven months, and he hadn’t made the first move. He wanted a relationship with her beyond work. Beyond just being friends. Because she wasn’t the only one who’d fallen all those years ago.

Obviously he was a coward. That was his only excuse. The grown-up Vee was way out of his league. But if he was going to try ...

She was about to turn forty, and he was forty-four. What the hell was he waiting for?

“If it’s okay,” she said, “I’ll hang around to talk to Eve and Suri. Then I’ll get out of your way.”

“You are never in my way, Vee.”

She smiled. “I’m sure that is not true.”

“After you’ve spoken to Eve and Suri, why don’t we go to lunch? We could both use the break, and I’d really like to keep you close until this business with the Messenger or his minion is behind us.”

She studied him for a moment. The request had sounded reasonable. The Messenger or whoever was behind these threats was targeting Vee. Made sense to keep a close eye on her. This was a viable threat directly against her.

“Sounds good.” She relaxed into her seat once more. “I’m sure I’ll be busy with Eric after he gets here.”

He’d walked right into that one.

As long as Vee stayed safe, he could deal with a few days of having her ex around.

Protecting her from the Messenger was all that mattered right now.

23

Lincoln County Sheriff’s OfficeThornton Taylor Parkway, Fayetteville, 4:10 p.m.

Vera had intended to be on time for the meeting, but that hadn’t happened—at least that’s what she told herself. Instead, she’d spent two hours with Deputy Conover going over the scene at the old hospital where Nolan had been taken and then at his apartment. It was ridiculous actually. She had known there was nothing to find, but the effort helped distract her. She’d been doing a lot of that lately. There was no easily or readily identifiable reason why ... just a need.

In the end, she and Conover had arrived at the same conclusion—the one she had known they would reach. The perp at the hospital, as well as the one who had entered both Nolan Baker’s apartment and Vera’s home, hadn’t left fingerprints or any damned thing else. The ones Conover found on the old hospital’s windows—the ones where the blinds had been removed and then reinstalled—had belonged to a local who’d spent the night in the place on a dare months ago.

Conover wasn’t happy about not finding anything at any of the three scenes, but Vera had reminded him that no one, not Memphis PD or the FBI, had found a single shred of evidence at ten crime scenes during the Messenger’s decade of activity. The bastard had been far too careful. Some said there were no perfect crimes, only imperfect investigations. Others insisted that in cases like the Messenger’s, given time,a perp—no matter how smart or how careful—was bound to make a mistake.

But not the Messenger. Not until Gloria Anderson. And Vera was convinced that misstep had not been a mistake.

Maybe that was the part that had always bothered her. She’d been a brand-new detective with only a few cases under her belt, and certainly none as complex as the Messenger case. She had followed the case closely from a distance. The whole city had. Even after ten years, the police were no closer to finding the serial killer than when they had started.

Victim eleven, Gloria Anderson, disappeared, and that long-standing record changed. Suddenly there was a variation in his MO. Or maybe Vera’s unexpected involvement had caused the mistake ... the misstep.

Or maybe there had been another perp—an associate or protégé—and he got ahead of himself and caused the misstep. Without evidence, it was an unprovable scenario. It also wasn’t nearly as likely as the idea that Solomon was orchestrating this current situation from his prison cell.

She entered the long corridor that would take her to Bent’s office. Eight, no, ten minutes past four o’clock.