Page 19 of Closer Than You Know (Vera Boyett #2)

Friday, March 7

Lincoln Medical Center

Medical Center Boulevard, Fayetteville, 6:30 a.m.

Vera parked around back of the hospital, in view of the maintenance entrance. When she spotted an opportunity, she entered with a member of the maintenance crew. She didn’t know him, but he recognized her from stories in the Elk Valley Times . He thought the work she did with various police departments around the area was very cool. Sometimes the media and a reporter could be your friend—unlike the one she had come here to visit.

As she reached Nolan Baker’s room, the deputy on duty smiled. “Morning, Ms. Boyett.”

She tried her best to always be nice and friendly to the deputies. Those in uniform were an important resource. Particularly to someone who relied on assumptions as much as she did. Like the maintenance man, this deputy had seen her around the department enough to believe she was one of them. He obviously realized she was consulting on this case.

“Good morning, Deputy Houser.” She smiled brightly. “How’s our patient this morning?”

“Last time I checked, he was still sleeping like a baby.”

“Has the doctor been in yet?” Not likely, but it was the right question to ask.

“No, ma’am. A nurse checked his vitals at about five, and no one’s been in since.”

“Thanks.” Vera eased the door open and stepped into the room without hesitation—just like it was her job this morning. Deputy Houser wouldn’t think twice about it. She closed the door behind her and stood for a moment watching Nolan sleep.

Bent had warned all deputies with this particular assignment that no one outside the department—not even Nolan’s parents—was to be in the room with him alone. Whatever was done and said, Bent wanted to know it.

Vera had never appreciated the man’s prudence more. It would be just like Elizabeth Baker to try telling Nolan what to say and do going forward. The woman made helicopter mothers look like negligent free rangers.

She walked the short distance across the room, the only sound the monitors tracking Nolan’s vitals. His face was pale, his dark hair tousled. He lay on his side, probably in deference to the injuries on his back. The IV running to his left arm likely provided the fluids, antibiotics, and pain meds he needed.

No matter that Nolan could be a real shit, she felt bad for him. No one should be subjected to this sort of nightmare. But he was alive, which was far more than could be said for all but one of the Messenger’s other victims. Vera still tried on some level to rationalize the idea that this couldn’t be the serial killer’s work, but deep inside she understood that he had likely orchestrated it step by step, which ultimately made it his work and unquestionably made Nolan’s survival a near miracle. He was enough like his mother that he would probably turn the whole affair into an award-winning story.

When she drew closer to his bed, his eyes fluttered open. He visibly tensed. “Why are you here?”

Strike her previous assessment. He was exactly like his mother.

“You’re aware I work with the sheriff’s department and Fayetteville PD. I’m here to follow up on your interview with Sheriff Benton.”

His gaze narrowed. “I already told him everything.”

Last night Vera had spent a lot of time thinking about Nolan’s answers to Bent’s questions. He was lying. Had to be. It was the only possibility, given the events leading up to his discovery in her barn. Who else would want to leave her that particular message carved on the man’s damned back? It had to be the Messenger’s minion, and if that was so, then Nolan was not telling the whole story.

She figured she had his number.

“You think holding back is going to build the momentum for your big story.” Vera smiled. “All you’re going to do if you persist with this version of events is piss him off. He left you alive so you could tell me something.” Vera braced her forearms on the bed rail. “So do it.”

“He left you a message on my back.” Pain and fear or something on that order flashed in his eyes. He blinked it away. “I don’t know what else you’re talking about.” He closed his eyes. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired.”

“The Messenger gets off on watching his victims’ pain, so either this was not the Messenger’s commissioned work or you’re lying.” No response. “Torture is his thing. There’s no way you were unconscious all that time with him.”

Nolan said nothing. Time to stoop to his level. “Fine. I can go outside this hospital right now and tell all those reporters what I believe happened and steal your glory, or you can tell me, and I’ll keep it to myself. The choice is yours.”

His eyes opened, and his jaw clenched. He glared at her for a few seconds. “All he talked about was you.” He drew in an uneven breath. “The last few hours he said plenty. He said you took something from him, and he was going to make sure you paid for it.”

Vera’s pulse rate fired into high speed. “Did you see his face at any time?”

He squeezed his eyes shut once more. “No. He wore, like, this ...” He touched his face. “A mask. Like one of those characters in a horror movie. A hockey mask, I think.”

The Messenger had worn a mask. Made sense his surrogate would do the same. Vera committed the detail to memory and moved on.

“Did he wear gloves? Long sleeves? Did you see any exposed part of his body?” Vera took a breath. She needed to slow down. Otherwise, she’d spook Baker. She was damned well spooked herself. But she needed the whole story.

“He wore gloves. Long sleeves ...” Nolan frowned. “Like a sweatshirt. I didn’t see anything other than the mask and the sweatshirt.”

Vera moistened her lips, struggled to calm her frantic heart. “What did his voice sound like?”

“Deep. Smooth.” Nolan’s gaze locked with hers. “He sounded intelligent. Well educated. He didn’t use any contractions or slang terms—very proper grammar. His tone was condescending.” He shuddered. “Like I was completely irrelevant beyond his plan for me.”

Gloria Anderson had talked about the way he made her feel worthless. Irrelevant. It was his way ... Vera knew firsthand.

“Thank you, Nolan. Noticing those sorts of details is really important to an investigation.” Vera gave him a moment to relish the compliment. “Did he tell you anything else? Anything at all.”

He searched her eyes, his own showing a building agitation. “You swear you won’t tell anyone else.”

“I swear I won’t tell anyone else unless what you’re about to say will protect another potential victim.” That was as close as she could come to giving him what he wanted.

“He said all he wanted was you. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Just you. He said delivering this message to you was the only reason I was going to live.”

Tension tightened in her throat. Just like Gloria Anderson. He’d given her basically the same message to pass along. “Why didn’t he want you to tell Sheriff Benton or anyone else?”

“He said they would put you in protective custody and then he couldn’t get to you.”

Made sense. “So you did as he said and didn’t tell the sheriff those details.”

Nolan nodded. “Exactly like he said.”

Wow. Nice to know her life was so low on this guy’s priority scale. “What would you get in return for keeping his secret?”

“An exclusive,” Nolan whispered. “Once he had you, he would do an interview without the mask.”

And this chump believed him. Jesus Christ. This was why Nolan Baker hadn’t been tortured the way the others had been and was still alive. Not because the Messenger’s minion—whoever the guy was—had any intention of going easy on him, but because he intended to lure him back in for the kill. That had to be providing a whole new level of excitement and anticipation. The torture and eventual kill could wait for the big finale—double the pleasure.

“Okay.” Vera produced a smile, no matter that she wanted to bop Nolan upside the head. “I’ll be ready for him.”

Concern stole across the little shit’s face.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “not to prevent you from getting your story. I’ll make sure you get that. I just want to survive to tell it.”

He blinked. “Sure. Of course.”

Bent would be pissed she’d kept this from him, but it was the only way to avoid having a dozen deputies swarming her at all times. She needed the opportunity to draw out this bastard.

Nolan moistened his lips, glanced at the table next to his bed. “Do you mind giving me a drink of water?”

Vera forced a smile. “Yes, I do mind.”

She walked out of the room, nodded to the deputy, and then headed out the same way she’d come in.

No sooner had she settled into her SUV than another vehicle rounded the corner of the building. The hearse from Barrett’s Funeral Home. Curious, Vera watched until the long black Cadillac funeral coach was parked. The driver wouldn’t have seen her SUV, since the maintenance truck sat next to her. The driver’s side door of the hearse opened, and a figure emerged. Black scrubs. Short, spiky blond hair.

Eve.

Damn it. Vera got out of her SUV and headed in her sister’s direction. As soon as she was close enough, she hissed, “Eve!”

Eve whirled to face her. “Hey.” She glanced around. “What are you doing here, Vee?”

Vera waited until she was toe to toe with her. “I suspect I’m here for the same thing you are.”

Eve shrugged. “Doubtful. I’m here for a pickup.”

Vera’s gaze narrowed. “Since when did you start doing pickups again? I thought they hired someone for that.”

Eyes rolling, Eve heaved a disgusted breath. “Fine. I hoped while I was here, I could talk to Nolan. Do you blame me?”

Not really, but Vera was not going there. “That would be a huge mistake. We have no idea what he knows about Gates. If you question him, that’s only going to confirm whatever he suspects. You cannot do that.”

Eve’s eyes narrowed. “Did you talk to him?”

“About his abduction, yes,” Vera growled under her breath. “But he never mentioned Gates, and neither did I. He needs to believe we have nothing to fear about that investigation. That we know nothing, got it?”

“Fine.” Her sister’s shoulders slumped. “Have you heard from Russ yet?”

“No, but I will today, or I’ll be paying her a visit. I already told you this.” Then again, that was yesterday.

“Keep me posted, will you? This is driving me nuts.”

Obviously.

“I will,” Vera assured her. “I just need you not to do anything until we know more.”

Eve nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.” She turned back to the hearse.

Vera frowned. “I thought you had a pickup.”

“That was just my cover story in case I ran into Bent.”

Vera shook her head as her sister walked away. “Hey,” she called after Eve.

She turned, her expression expectant.

“Remember to watch out for trouble. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eve waved her off and got back into the vehicle.

Vera watched her drive away. She wasn’t sure who was worse, her or Eve. The two of them had learned early on that sometimes lies and subterfuge were necessary to survival. But lying to each other was downright dangerous.

Elizabeth Baker’s hateful words echoed in her head. Maybe she and Eve were a little bit evil. Vera headed back to her SUV. She preferred to view it as cautious. The Boyett sisters, at least the two older ones, had learned the hard way that the truth did not always make things better.

Vera had just settled behind the steering wheel when her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen. Bent.

Oh hell. She hoped he hadn’t spoken to Houser already and learned about her visit. If she was really lucky, the deputy wouldn’t mention it and Bent wouldn’t ask.

“Good morning,” she announced in the most chipper tone she could summon.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Good, he didn’t know she’d left the house yet, which meant that he hadn’t checked in with the deputy he had watching her house or the one watching Nolan Baker. A pang of guilt stabbed at her chest for allowing Bent to believe she wouldn’t go behind his back like this. Then she remembered that he had just up and left her after stealing her heart all those years ago, and the guilt vanished.

“No. No. I’m up.” Truth was, no matter what happened in the past, she hated lying to Bent. Technically, she hadn’t lied yet. Just hadn’t mentioned where she was or what she was doing.

“Can you be at my office at eight? I know it’s short notice, but I just got word that Memphis PD wants a conference call, and they’d like you to be here for it. They’re not wasting any time.”

Cold sliced through her. Vera had warned Eric last night about this new development. She had expected MPD to contact Bent, just not so quickly. Interacting with the folks likely to be on the call wasn’t exactly a treat for her. But there was no avoiding it.

She shook off the dread. “Sure, I can be there. And don’t be surprised at their tactics. Big-city cops—especially the higher-ups—cut their teeth on legalistic-style policing, and jurisdiction is everything.”

“Thanks, Vee. I’ll see you then.”

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’.