Page 16 of Closer Than You Know (Vera Boyett #2)

Baker Residence

Mulberry Avenue, Fayetteville, 4:50 p.m.

Bent wasn’t looking forward to how this would likely turn out. Elizabeth and Carl Baker were high-profile citizens, and if by some chance he and Vee were wrong ... this could be a real pain in the ass for a very long time to come. People like Elizabeth Baker didn’t forgive and forget.

But he and Vee weren’t wrong ... he was damned certain of that conclusion now.

He glanced at Vee as he knocked on the door. She tucked a stray blond hair, which had loosened from her ponytail, behind her ear. He should know better than to worry in the first place. She wouldn’t be wrong. The woman was very, very good at figuring out the real story behind all the layers. She had been extensively trained in collecting crime statistics and predicting patterns in criminal behavior, as well as coming up with deterrents. She was good ... damned good.

Vee looked at him suddenly, as if sensing his attention on her.

She scowled. “What?”

When she snapped at him that way—which was fairly often—a little line formed between her eyebrows. But it was the way her lips pursed that really got to him. Didn’t matter how often or why she got mad at him ... he loved every minute of it.

Maybe his low-down daddy had been right—he wasn’t too bright.

Bent banished thoughts of his father and lifted one shoulder in a purposely vague shrug. “Nothing.” He knocked on the door again.

“You think I’m wrong.” She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him with a narrowed gaze. “I hope I am. It would be far better for Nolan and his family if that’s the case.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” he insisted, his attention fixed on the door, which he hoped would open now. Maybe he had resisted the idea at first, but deep down he had known she was onto something.

She made a disagreeable sound.

Lucky for Bent the door flew open just then. Elizabeth stood there, her eyes red and swollen from hours—no, days—of crying. Man, this was really going to suck.

Fear stole over her face. “Have you found him?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Bent figured she used the pronoun him instead of her son’s name because it hurt less. Oh hell. Unless Nolan Baker was suddenly released in the next few hours with obscure drawings all over his body, this would not end well for anyone involved.

“No, ma’am. We have not, but we feel another look in his apartment is in order. If you’re good with that.”

She seemed to shake herself, as if she’d expected different news and wasn’t quite sure how to process Bent’s words. “Oh. Well ... sure. Sure. I’ll get the key.”

Elizabeth disappeared into the house.

“Are you going to ask her, or am I?” Vee demanded quietly.

He glanced at her. “I’m thinking we should wait until we’ve had that look. It’ll make things easier.”

She made another of those ornery grunts. “Chickenshit.”

His lips twitched with the need to smile despite present circumstances. The last time she’d called him that, she’d been seventeen years old and had dared him to kiss her. He hadn’t wanted to—well, no, he had wanted to. But out of respect for her mama—no matter that she’d been dead for months by that time—he hadn’t wanted to cross that line. Even at twenty-one he had known there would be no turning back. But Vee had lugged him right across it with her fearlessness. She had been the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. And the most intriguing.

“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.

The message on the mirror above the sink was short and to the point.

See you soon.

Bent’s gut tightened. He gave himself a moment by stepping over to the shower and turning off the water there and then at the sink. Vee stood as still as stone, staring at the words.

“We need to know,” she said without taking her eyes off the mirror, “if anyone has been in this apartment—besides law enforcement—since Nolan went missing.”

Bent braced for the answer he didn’t want to hear. “You believe this message wasn’t meant for Nolan.”

“I can’t be certain.”

The brittleness in her tone told him otherwise.

“The primary problem is,” she said in that same rigid tone, “the Messenger never took a male victim. Only females.”

Bent nodded slowly. “You said something earlier about him doing little things to make the victim wonder.”

She pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket and snapped a photo. He should have done that already. Then she turned to him. “Like moving something a victim used every day to make her think she’d forgotten or that she was losing it. Changing the temperature setting on the thermostat while she slept. Taking a piece of mail out of the mailbox and putting it back on the table when it was meant to go out that day. Little things to make her wonder.” She turned away from him so he could no longer see her eyes. “Like leaving footprints in the snow leading right up to your window. Or leaving a window up.”

Son of a ... “I’ll check the windows just in case someone entered that way.”

Vee nodded, still staring at the message as the letters started to run.

Bent checked the windows. None were unlocked or appeared to have been tampered with. There were two doors—the one accessed from the stairs in the garage and one in the bedroom that led out to a balcony overlooking the backyard. The locks showed no indication of having been tampered with. Conover had gone through the place thoroughly the morning after Nolan’s disappearance. It was unlikely they had missed anything as blatant as an insecure or compromised lock on a window or door.

But the bastard got in somehow.

“Anything?” Vee asked as he joined her in the living room.

“All secure.” Another thought nudged him. “Is it possible,” he began, “since a month has passed and nothing really big has come of this Time Thief business ...” The idea might seem a little far fetched, but at this point, he was just about ready to believe anything. “Maybe Baker did some digging into the Messenger case and decided to evolve this thing into ... something bigger.”

Vee considered the idea for long enough to have him second-guessing having even put it out there. Then she said, “It’s possible, sure. But that would mean he did some serious digging and took some major risks. Peeking in my windows only hours after allegedly being abducted. Coming inside and leaving a message on my bathroom mirror.” She shook her head. “That’s a lot for a missing guy to get done alone—in the snow.”

“When you lay it all out like that,” Bent confessed, “it doesn’t really work.”

“You want it to work,” she said, understanding him better than he understood himself. “I want it to work. Having Nolan Baker do something stupid like this is a lot easier to deal with than the alternative.”

“No question.” No more beating around the bush. “We should get this next part over with.”

“The sooner the better,” Vera agreed.

When they reached the door of the Baker home, Elizabeth was waiting. “Did you find anything?”

“We need to ask you a few questions,” Bent said, bypassing her question.

“Come in.” She moved away from the door and led the way to the living room. She settled on one end of the large sectional sofa and clasped her hands in her lap. “Sit wherever you like.”

Bent waited until Vee sat down, and then he did the same.

“Maybe,” Bent offered, “you should call Carl to join us.”

Her face crumpled, and the howls of agony that emanated from the woman were gut wrenching. “No. No. No. He has to be all right. Please, please.” She looked to Bent then, her face twisted in pain. “Please tell me you’ve found him and he’s okay. Please, please, Bent ... I can’t bear it.”

Bent shared a look with Vee.

“Elizabeth, we haven’t found Nolan,” Vee assured her. “We’re not here to tell you anything like that.”

A shudder rocked through Elizabeth, her whole form quaking with it. “You’re not here to tell me he’s ... dead?”

“No, ma’am,” Bent said. “We have questions for you ... related to the Time Thief case. There are some inconsistencies we believe you can help us with.”

She blinked. Once.

“Why don’t I call Carl?” Vee suggested gently. “He should be here for you.”

For a long moment Elizabeth stared, first at Vee, then at Bent, as if a new realization had dawned on her. Her jaw sagged, but no words came out. The tears had slowed, drying on her skin, leaving messy paths in her makeup.

“No,” she finally said, her voice so low it was nearly inaudible. “I don’t want him here for this.”

Well hell. As nice as it was to be right about a conclusion, this wasn’t the sort of situation that gave anyone pleasure. “All right then. But I need to advise you of your rights—”

“No.” She shook her head adamantly, lifted a hand to stop him. “I waive my rights. An attorney can’t help me, and he sure as hell can’t help my son.”

“Elizabeth,” Vee urged, “you need to think about that for a moment, because anything you tell us can be used against you. You’re emotional right now, you may not be thinking straight. We don’t want you to regret this decision tomorrow or next week.”

“It’s too late for regrets,” Elizabeth said, her lips quivering. She swiped at her cheeks with her fingers. “It was me. Carl had nothing to do with it. I watched the three I selected very carefully. I ... I was extremely cautious about everything. The dosage of the drug. All of it.” She turned her hands up. “I didn’t want anyone hurt.” She shook her head, drew in a ragged breath. “But I suppose I did choose the ones I did for a little payback. Is that what tipped you off?”

Rather than answer her question, Bent asked, “Was Nolan to be the fourth victim?”

She nodded. “I left him the message on his windshield. I was going to meet him that night at that old shack where Owens lives. I’d already set everything up. I would do exactly as I did the others so he wouldn’t know it was me ... but he never showed up.” Her face pinched with agony. “I was certain Nolan had figured it out. Then, when he didn’t come home, I thought he was angry at me. I was up walking the floors all night ... until Chief Teller called.” Her voice quavered. “I never intended to hurt anyone. I just wanted ...”

“You wanted,” Vee offered, “to give Nolan that big story he’s been waiting for.”

Elizabeth jerked her head up and down, her lips clamped together. “I had no idea I might be inviting some evil person to get involved.”

“First,” Bent said, “as far as what you’ve done goes, the good news is you didn’t harm anyone—not really. But you need to understand that this is kidnapping, Elizabeth. This is a very serious situation. At least a second-degree felony. Then there’s the false imprisonment.”

“I don’t care about that,” she argued, her voice frantic. “All that matters is finding Nolan.” Tears streamed down her face once more. “Someone had to be watching me ... switched out my message. They took my son.” Her cries again turned to agonized howls.

Bent looked again to Vee, who made a face at him. She should know how to handle this part better than him. Three seconds passed before she finally spoke up. “Elizabeth, we’re doing all possible to find him. But we need your help if we’re going to be successful. Can you pull yourself together and do that?”

Elizabeth swiped at her eyes, this time with her forearms—mascara and foundation smearing on the silk sleeves. “Yes. Yes. Of course. Whatever I can do. After what I’ve done, this is probably God’s punishment.” She fell apart again. “It’s my fault. Oh God. It’s my fault.”

Bent grabbed the box of tissues from the coffee table and took it to her. “What we believe happened,” he said gently, “likely was not because of anything you did.”

“And you can rest assured that God,” Vee tossed in, “had nothing to do with this.” She waited until Bent was seated once more. “Unless you left another message besides the one on Nolan’s windshield, we have reason to believe this has something to do with someone from my past.”

Elizabeth stared at her, the tissue clamped between her fingers and tears still streaming down her cheeks. “What?” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I don’t understand. What other message?”

“We don’t know anything for certain just yet,” Bent countered, hoping to head off what he suspected would be a meltdown.

“I’m not following.” Elizabeth scrubbed at her cheeks with the deteriorating tissue. “You have some idea who took him?”

“We have another potential suspect,” Bent explained carefully. “What we need from you is to know if anyone has gone into the apartment since we were here on Tuesday.”

She slumped. “I ... I’m ... let me think ...” She looked to Bent. “You and your people were here first. Wait, no. Chief Teller came first after that call from Joel. So he was first, but then he called you. So, I guess you and your people went into Nolan’s ...” Her lips trembled. “Nolan’s apartment next.” She moistened her lips and took a breath. “Then you and Vera. I don’t think there was anyone else.”

Bent nodded. It was possible the person who left the message on the mirror had picked the lock, but he had left no marks whatsoever. It took someone very skilled to manage that feat.

“Wait, no.” Elizabeth’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “There was someone here this morning. Carl mentioned it on his way out the door. He said someone from the sheriff’s department had needed to get back in.” She stared at the floor. “I slept in. Couldn’t seem to drag myself out of bed. I hadn’t slept at all the night before ... the night he was taken.” She shook her head. “Anyway, Carl gave the key to whoever it was—that’s why I didn’t remember.”

“Why don’t I call Carl?” Bent suggested. “We’ll meet him at my office, and he can tell us about this other person.”

Elizabeth pushed to her feet. “I’d like to call him. Prepare him for ... the rest.”

Bent stood, as did Vee. “All right. We’ll wait at the front door. You let us know when you’re ready to go.”

Elizabeth left the room. Vee jerked her head in the direction Elizabeth had disappeared. “Should I keep an eye on her?”

The sound of her voice as she called her husband drifted toward them.

“As long as we can hear her, I think we’re good.”

Vee made a sour face. “You’re really taking her in?”

“Do I have a choice?”

As badass as Vera Boyett wanted to pretend to be, she was not as merciless as she would have anyone believe. She felt sympathy for her old enemy.

“You should talk to the DA and see if she can be released on her own recognizance. At least until Nolan is found.”

Bent bit back a smile. “You think that’s a good idea?”

Vee threw up her hands. “It’s not like she’s going to leave all this.”

He let the smile go then. “I think we can arrange something along those lines.”

Elizabeth returned to the living room. She cleared her throat. “Carl is on his way here. He’d like to drive me, if that’s all right.” She looked from Bent to Vee and back. “Since this is a first for me, what happens next?”

“While you’re giving your statement, Carl will work with Vera to try and nail down a description of this morning’s visitor. We may be able to get a sketch artist, but that could take some time.”

“When ...” Elizabeth cleared her throat again. “When will I be arrested?”

“We’ll work all that out at the office,” Bent assured her.

For now, he needed to get the details of whoever had left that message. Because it sure as hell hadn’t been for Nolan Baker.

That message was for Vee.