Page 14 of Closer Than You Know (Vera Boyett #2)

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 1:00 p.m.

Bent had made breakfast as they’d waited for the lengthy forensics process to finish. Now, a trip to the hardware store and two hours of work later, Vera had bored the second screw into the final window. She wasn’t sure what Luna would think of her securing the windows shut, but she was reasonably confident Eve wouldn’t care. Come summer, Vera would likely be dragging out this handy new power tool and removing the screws so she could raise the windows.

Probably would have been simpler to just have the security company come back out and add sensors to the windows. But there was something infinitely satisfying about knowing she had personally thwarted the efforts of any would-be intruders.

She climbed off the stepladder and set the power drill aside. “Try getting in now, you bastard.”

A check of her cell showed there was still no response from Russ. Vera had left her a voicemail. Hopefully she would call soon. The waiting was driving her nuts. She had no more windows to work on. She’d cleaned up the kitchen already. Bent was a good cook, but he’d made a hell of a mess, and she had refused to allow him to stay and clean up. She’d had things to do. It was bad enough that the deputy who’d showed up first thing that morning had hung around, followed her to the hardware store and back.

Having someone watching her made her antsy. She could take care of herself—at least that was the line she gave Bent and anyone else who suggested otherwise.

What now? Put away her tools and then maybe check in with Bent to see if he had any news. Waiting was another of those things that made her edgy.

She grabbed the power drill. The best place for her new tool, she decided, was under the sink. Since she might need it again sooner than she thought. A few strides and a quick squat, and that was done. The stepladder went back into the laundry room. She called it a room, but it was really just a nook her father had carved out of kitchen space to create an organized place for the laundry stuff. Vera remembered how happy her mother had been with the change. How Vera wished life was so simple now.

Her cell vibrated with an incoming call, and she jumped. Held her breath in hopes it was Russ. Bent. Her hopes sagged. No offense to him—she had questions for him—but she really, really needed to have a conversation with Russ. Maybe she would just show up at the PI’s office.

“Hey.” Vera’s attempt at an upbeat tone didn’t really hit the mark.

“Hey,” he said back. “I managed to make appointments with all three of the Time Thief’s released vics. You busy, or do you want to come along for new interviews?”

“Sure, I want to come along.” She was supposed to be helping with the case, after all. “You coming now?”

“I’m outside your house.”

She should have known. “Headed that way.”

She ended the call and did a quick survey of the kitchen to ensure she’d locked the door and all was turned off—coffee maker, stove. On the way to the front door, she checked her hair. The ponytail she’d tied it into was looking a little wispy, but it would just have to do. Since she’d had to forgo blow-drying her hair this morning, taming it with a hair tie had been her only option that didn’t take too much time. At the door she grabbed her jacket, dragged it on, then her shoulder bag and looped it over her neck.

She set the security system, and then, once outside, she closed and locked the door. Checked it just to be sure. Obviously, paranoia was creeping in.

Keeping busy had been the key to her not thinking about the Messenger as the morning had dragged on. As creepy as the message on the mirror had been—not to mention it had put her instincts on edge—she had no actual reason to believe it was from him.

Couldn’t be. Couldn’t be.

The idea really was ridiculous. He was in prison. If he’d had a partner during his killing years, there had been no evidence, and there had been nothing from that person since the Messenger’s arrest, which pretty much negated the possibility—killers rarely just stopped killing. This, Vera suspected, was likely someone trying to rattle her. Maybe some other creep she’d ensured went to prison and who had recently been released. With the media circus generated around the Messenger case, anyone who hadn’t lived under a rock would know that was the case to use if they wanted to get to her. And there was always the possibility that someone the Messenger had befriended in prison was out now and was doing him a favor by harassing Vera. Both were possibilities she would look into if the need arose.

The case had been the subject of numerous special reports and documentaries. Finding a few details online would be easy enough. As for her recent activities, the investigation into the remains in that damned cave had been far more high profile than this Time Thief thing. If that very personal investigation hadn’t stirred the Messenger’s interest and prompted some sort of action, she couldn’t see how this case would.

“Who are we going to see first?” she asked as she climbed into Bent’s truck. The deputy in the cruiser was no longer parked at her house. She supposed Bent had sent him on his way.

“Kayleigh Marshall.”

“That’s the one I don’t know,” Vera mentioned. The other two, the males, were sons of people she had known growing up in Fayetteville. Oliver Randall was the son of Scott Randall, the guy with the fruit orchards and pumpkin farm. His family had made quite the name for itself in Lincoln and numerous surrounding counties with that farm. Vance Honeycutt’s father owned the most popular restaurant on the square—the one his grandfather had started many decades ago.

Kayleigh was the only one who hadn’t grown up in Lincoln County.

“Her family moved to Fayetteville when she was already at UT,” Bent explained. “She actually lives in Nashville, but her mother died last year, so she spends a lot of time in Fayetteville with her dad.”

“The three have nothing in common,” Vera said, recalling the details, “based on your reports. Does Baker’s abduction change that?”

Bent glanced at her as he made a turn onto Molino Road. “It does. Randall and Baker were on the high school football team together.”

Vera shrugged. “It’s a small town. It was bound to happen.”

Bent nodded slowly. “Except Randall’s uncle was the football coach, and there was some rumbling about favoritism. I don’t know the details, but I did hear he retired in the middle of a season.”

Vera scoffed. “Let me guess, Elizabeth and her husband were the ones rumbling.”

“It was all kept very hush-hush, so I can’t say for sure.” Bent slowed for a turn.

“If Nolan was involved, you know it was,” Vera argued. “It’s the most logical scenario.”

Bent glanced at her. “You only say that because you don’t like her.”

“As my mama always said, you made your bed, now lie in it. I truly hope Nolan is released, like the others, and that he’s okay. But nothing in this world is going to make me like Boggie.” And that was assuming the little bugger wasn’t the Time Thief himself. Frankly, the idea of Nolan kidnapping three other people, holding and drugging them before releasing them, and then pretending to kidnap himself was a little over the top. Even if the notion did keep nagging at her.

Bent said no more, but Vera recognized how hard he was working to keep a smile from making an appearance. Most folks only tolerated Elizabeth. She was, as Vera’s mama would say, a mess.

Vera set her gaze straight ahead. There were parts of her past that weren’t worth the effort of analyzing, and her dislike of Elizabeth Baker was one of them.

A final turn into the neighborhood called the Avenues, and a few moments later Bent parked. The Marshall home was a newer one. Brick. Modern. Certainly not the typical style of the neighborhood. Probably had windows that worked and locked the way they were supposed to and weren’t bloated with layers of paint.

“Kayleigh hasn’t gone back to Nashville?” she asked, spotting a car with Davidson County plates.

Bent shut off the engine. “Her father had a health scare while she was missing. She doesn’t want to leave him until he’s back on his feet.”

“Health scare?” Vera nudged.

“He started drinking again and took a tumble down the stairs.” Bent reached for his door. “He’s a recovering alcoholic.”

Damn. She thought of Eve and the idea of how alcoholism was a forever battle. “I’m glad she can be here for him.”

Bent nodded. “He’s a lucky guy.”

Kayleigh Marshall was waiting on the front porch when they reached it. “My father is napping; do you mind if we go around to the screened porch? I’ve started a fire in the outdoor fireplace.”

“Sure,” Bent agreed. “We’ll follow you.”

Kayleigh led the way around the corner of the house to the patio. Not only was there a huge fireplace but there was also an outdoor kitchen and a lovely sitting area. Very nice.

Once they were seated around the roaring fire, Kayleigh made a face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about refreshments. Would you like coffee?”

“No,” Vera hastened to say. She’d had far too much caffeine today. “Thank you.”

“None for me,” Bent said.

Kayleigh seemed to relax then. “All right. You said you wanted to talk about what happened.”

“Kayleigh,” Vera spoke up, “we really appreciate your time and don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary. I’ve read the reports including your statements, so really I just have two questions.”

She waited expectantly.

“Have you remembered anything new that perhaps you feel is relevant or significant in some way?”

The young woman thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I’ve already told the sheriff everything I can remember. I’ve had a few nightmares, and sometimes I find myself dwelling on it, but it’s always the same.”

Vera gave her a wide smile. “I’m sorry to hear about the nightmares. I’m sure they’ll pass once we have the person who did this in custody.”

Kayleigh nodded. “Hope so.”

“Did you know any of the other victims before the events occurred?”

The younger woman shrugged. “I don’t think so. I mean, I can’t say for sure—I’ve maybe seen them at a community event or just walking around the square, but I didn’t know them. We’ve talked since—Vance, Oliver, and I.” She looked to Bent. “You mentioned that it might be useful if we talked informally to see if it sparked any new memories.”

Great idea. Vera never ceased to be surprised by what a good investigator Bent was.

“I’m glad you decided to do that.” Bent gave her a nod of approval.

“What about Nolan Baker?” Vera ventured. “Were you acquainted with him before?” An idea had the wheels turning in her mind. This could be something.

Kayleigh made a face, not sad or angry ... maybe annoyed. “I don’t really know him. But three years ago when we were both still at UT, he asked me to Christmas dinner with his family. It was sort of strange because we had only one class together, and we really weren’t friends or anything. I don’t know. It was like out of the blue. But since my family was in Fayetteville, too, I figured why not. It was a free ride, and he seemed nice. But ...” She drew in a big breath. “The whole time we were at his family’s home, he was ...” She shrugged. “I don’t know, behaving as if we were a couple. No, not just a couple. A serious couple.”

Maybe not as strange as Kayleigh thought. “Was that the only time the two of you interacted?”

She nodded. “Other than the one class we had together that semester, we really didn’t see each other. It was like he didn’t know I existed before or after that one dinner. I didn’t care, but it was just odd. You know when something or someone gives you that creepy feeling? That’s how I felt afterward.”

“Thank you, Kayleigh.” Vera turned to Bent to see if he had anything to add.

He settled his hat in place. “We appreciate your time.”

Vera kept quiet until they reached the truck, but her instincts were vibrating. “You have to know this is far too big a coincidence to ignore.”

“Agreed. But I’ll restrain myself from jumping to conclusions.”

Vera gave him a look. “Who’s jumping to conclusions? The whole ‘come to dinner’ thing was likely just to make his parents think he was dating a girl. When she never came again, he probably told his mother she dumped him. Elizabeth would not have been happy about that.”

Bent laughed. “I admit that you could be onto something, but let’s see what the other two have to say before we go closing in on a single scenario.”

No problem. Vera smiled to herself. She was right, and he knew it.