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“I am, yes.”

“The cantina next door at seven sound okay?”

“Sounds great.” He gestured to the door. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Can you stay a minute, Vee?” Bent asked.

“Sure.” She smiled at Eric. “See you at seven.”

When he was gone, she settled her full attention on the man watching her so intently. “Eric really is one of the best analysts at Memphis PD. He will be an asset.”

“I’m sure.” Bent studied her another moment. “Did you two have a thing?”

She stiffened, though she had fully expected the question. “Definething.”

“Is he the one you said you almost married?”

Shit. She had mentioned the one serious relationship during the two decades they were apart. She just hadn’t said with whom. “Yes, but that was a long time ago. We’re just friends now. We have been for a long time.”

Bent nodded slowly. “Got it.”

“See you in the morning.”

Vera walked out of his office, surprised he didn’t insist on accompanying her or demand to know her schedule for the next couple of hours. Maybe he was as unsettled as she was. There was something—she couldn’t pinpoint the feeling that welled inside her as she walked away from him. Something she didn’t want to touch ... something with the potential for pain ... for disrupting her life further. Something old that had never let go.

By the time she reached her SUV, she felt ready to run.

Her cell vibrated, and she was grateful for the distraction.

Eve.

“Hey,” she said as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

“We need to talk.”

Vera stifled a groan. Whenever her sister called needing to talk, it was never a good thing. “The usual place?”

“I’m headed there now,” Eve confirmed.

“On my way.” Vera ended the call.

She hoped this was not the “what else” she’d wondered might be coming.

24

Rose Hill CemeteryWashington Street, Fayetteville, 5:20 p.m.

Dusk had crept over the landscape by the time Vera parked on the side of the street that ran along the rear of the cemetery. Eve was already there. Her vintage Toyota was parked a little farther up. Parking was never easy, particularly if a service or an event was happening at the cemetery.

Vera walked through the gate and surveyed the rows of headstones that covered the hillside. It was a beautiful old cemetery—as cemeteries went—with ancient trees all encircled with an old-world stone fence. Their mother had loved this cemetery. She’d come every year to the historic walks and, of course, to every burial of a friend or neighbor. Sometimes Vera wondered if Eve had gotten her fascination with the dead from their mother, but she’d never known their mother to be quite as obsessed as Eve. Their parents had been more about paying respects, as was the way of things in their day. You might not have seen a recently deceased person for decades, but you didn’t dare miss the funeral or, at the very least, not drop by the viewing. It just was not done.

Eve waited on the bench they’d had placed at the foot of the family plot. She looked up as Vera approached. “I’m really pissed at Bent,” she announced.

Vera had spent half her life pissed at Bent. What else was new? “I can’t imagine why.” She sat down beside Eve. “He didn’t arrest you or Suri. You should be thrilled.”

Eve glanced around, her fingers gripping the edge of the bench. She was visibly agitated. More so than Vera would have expected, given Suri had confessed to killing the man Eve had whacked over the head with that cast-iron skillet. The idea that this level of stress could send her sister hurtling off the wagon wasn’t lost on Vera. Eve had been sober for a long time now. The mere thought of her losing all that hard work gnawed at Vera.

“What if this goes the wrong way?” Eve glared at her. “I know what Bent said about the DA. I get it that Suri is more sympathetic since she’s the victim. But ... I’m worried.”