Page 20 of Closer Than You Know (Vera Boyett #2)

Lincoln County Sheriff’s Department

Thornton Taylor Parkway, Fayetteville, 7:50 a.m.

Balancing her large coffee and the box of goodies she’d picked up on the way, Vera paused long enough to leave an individually wrapped donut on Myra’s desk. Then she walked into Bent’s office and offered him one of the three remaining in the little box.

“I made a stop on the way.” She’d inhaled two donuts in the car, but she wasn’t about to admit as much.

He accepted one of the two glazed confections in the box. Good. Chocolate covered was her favorite, and there was only one left. She snagged it and placed the container on his small conference table. She intended to float through the coming conference on a solid wave of high-octane sugar and caffeine.

She settled into a chair. “Who called to make this appointment?”

“Chief William Talbert.”

Will. Her former boss. Thirteen years ago he had been lead from the Memphis PD on the Messenger task force. “He knows the Messenger better than anyone.”

After Dr. Palmer Solomon had been brought in, Will sat in on all the interrogations. The monster’s confession had prevented his one surviving victim from having to testify in court. Gloria Anderson had been incredibly relieved. It was the one good thing the bastard had done.

Vera polished off her third donut, then licked chocolate from her fingers. Even now, all these years later, she wondered what had prompted the Messenger to leave Anderson alive. It was almost like he’d wanted to be caught that last time. The concept wasn’t impossible. Killers sometimes wished to be freed from their need to keep killing. But it was rare. Or maybe the idea was just another way Vera unconsciously justified her finding him. Certainly, it hadn’t been her experience or skill at tracking down serial killers. She’d been a newbie. The one thing she would never, ever tell anyone is that she felt a sort of connection to the man.

Dr. Palmer Solomon had liked her, Will had insisted. He’d been drawn to her youth and inexperience. Vera had no idea. All that mattered was that he appeared to have invited or lured her to the place where he’d been keeping Anderson. He practically surrendered to her after he finished playing with her and torturing Eric. She forced the memory away. At the time she’d been so wired up ... so charged with adrenaline, that capturing him—whatever the reason—was all that mattered ... and Eric had paid the price. This was the part Bent still didn’t know. If he fully understood just how close she had come to Solomon, he would have her in lockdown right now. That shared nightmare was part of the bond she and Eric had forged. Part of what had kept them friends long after the romance was over.

Still, when it was done, Solomon had confessed. It was as if he’d wanted one last playtime—with two cops no less. His statement had been brief and to the point. He had killed ten people. Names, dates, and locations were provided, along with enough pertinent details to convince all involved. And it was over.

Not a single event had been attributed to the Messenger since his incarceration.

Until now ...

Bent had set his half-eaten donut aside and now focused on his coffee and watching her lick her fingers. Vera cleared her throat and grabbed a napkin. Thank God he had no idea she’d had two donuts besides the one he’d just watched her scarf down. She felt like a real hog.

“Deputy Houser said you stopped by to talk to Nolan this morning.”

Well hell.

“I couldn’t help myself,” she admitted. “I hoped after a night’s sleep he might remember something useful—like you said.”

Those blue eyes that Vera knew all too well studied her. “Did he?”

“Same story as last night.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “Have you talked to him?” she asked, turning the tables on him.

“I did. Like you said, his story hadn’t changed.” His gaze narrowed. “But I did get this feeling—”

Myra appeared at the door. “Sheriff, that call you’ve been expecting is on line one.”

Saved by the bell, Vera mused.

“Thanks, Myra. Close the door, please.”

Bent waited until the door shut before he tapped the necessary button to take the call, then set it on speaker. The phone was just an extension of the one on his desk. No fancy conference system.

“Sheriff Benton here. I have Vera Boyett in the office with me.” He glanced at her.

Maybe it was her guilty conscience, but she could swear she saw disappointment in his eyes. Damn it. The things she did might not always be the right things, but they were nearly always necessary. He should know that by now.

“Good morning, Sheriff Benton. Vera. ”

Will’s voice echoed in the room, setting her on edge. She and her former boss had been close. They’d shared an almost father-daughter relationship. She’d trusted him, respected him. But things were different now. This thing happening in Fayetteville had nothing to do with Memphis PD or her former boss. This, she had every reason to believe, was about her. The more outside interference, the more complicated the situation would become.

In her opinion, ultimately this was likely about revenge of some sort. Getting even. Though she had no idea why as to the timing, she understood with utter certainty that her conclusion was correct on some level and whatever the Messenger’s plan, it was going down. Now. Here, in Fayetteville.

Still, there was that other little detail that prevented his actions from making any sort of sense—that niggling idea that he had wanted her to catch him all those years ago. So why the encore now? If he’d wanted to be caught, why seek revenge? Maybe this was just a copycat who had a connection with Solomon, and the bastard’s old urges had him happy to advise a protégé on how to have the most fun.

“Morning, Will. Thank you for finding time to touch base with us. I know how busy your schedule is,” Vera said. Always be the diplomat. It was the first rule of negotiations, and this would no doubt be a negotiation. MPD wanted something. Quite possibly to ensure their reputation was not further tarnished by Vera Boyett.

“I have Special Agent in Charge Xavier Alcott with me.”

The agent from the Bureau who served as lead on the Messenger task force. No surprise, she supposed.

“Morning, Sheriff Benton, Vera,” he said. “I wish we were catching up under better circumstances. Resurrecting an old case is never an ideal situation.”

“Certainly not,” Vera agreed. She looked to Bent, who watched her intently. “Sheriff Benton will bring the two of you up to speed on what’s been happening here.”

His eyes still steady on her, he began with “I’m not sure we’re resurrecting anything. It’s possible your case was never quite dead.”

Vera bit back a smile. She felt confident the two top dogs in Memphis weren’t exactly overjoyed by the comment. Although there had never been any evidence the Messenger worked with a partner, it was certainly remotely possible. Just because the murders had stopped after Solomon’s arrest didn’t completely rule out the possibility. It did, however, make the idea far less likely—as she’d told Bent. But she understood. He wanted to put it out there. Even if the idea of a surrogate was by far the most likely scenario, no need to overlook a single other option just to avoid ruffling feathers.

Besides, this was Bent’s jurisdiction ... his case—the top cops in Memphis needed to understand he was no easygoing good old boy.

From there Bent walked the two through the details of the past twenty-four or so hours. Vera found herself enthralled with the sound of his voice ... the stillness of him, but most importantly by the weight of his gaze on her. It was more like he was talking only to her; the words were for the others while the context was solely for her.

He would do whatever was necessary to protect the citizens of his county and the apparent target of this perpetrator. He wanted her to trust him ... to let him take care of her. Vera managed to pull herself away from the trance he wove around her. Stared beyond the window, anywhere but at him. She hadn’t allowed anyone that level of power over her since she was seventeen. It had only ever been him.

“Based on what you’ve told us,” Will said when Bent had finished speaking, drawing Vera back to the conversation, “I’m confident what you have is a copycat. Wouldn’t you agree, given what we all know about the Messenger case, that conclusion is far more likely?”

“No.” Bent glanced toward the window beyond his desk, maybe to look for whatever Vera had stared at for so long. “I’ve done my homework, Chief, and I’m confident”—his gaze shifted back to her—“that based on what we’ve seen so far, the Messenger is either orchestrating this or he’s here. We can’t ignore the possibility—however remote it might be—that you got only half of a team twelve years ago.”

Vera’s heart stumbled. It felt as if Bent had reached deep inside her and pulled out her deepest, darkest fear. She’d never dared to allow the idea to form fully in her mind. Not when all the evidence had seemed to suggest otherwise.

He waited then ... they all did ... to hear her reaction.

Rather than leave Bent hanging, she said, “Although there was no evidence of an accomplice or partner of any sort involved, it is a possibility that, in light of current circumstances, we need to consider. The lack of activity on the part of an accomplice would certainly suggest that one did not exist. There is also the idea that without Solomon to lead him, he went dormant. But maybe something has awakened those urges and brought him out of hibernation. We simply can’t risk ignoring the possibility.”

Five seconds of silence warned them that the two men on the other end of the call weren’t completely surprised by her and Bent’s conclusions.

“Otherwise,” she went on, “we need to find out why and how Solomon has reached out to prompt a surrogate to do his bidding. Frankly, it’s the timing that raises the most questions for the sheriff and me.”

Another extended moment of silence.

“I have spoken with the warden at the prison,” Agent Alcott said finally, “and I’ve interviewed Solomon, without discussing our suspicions about what’s happening in Fayetteville. He has had no new visitors—no visitors at all, really. His son stopped coming to see him recently. Solomon has received no letters other than the usual from the kind of fans these types get. Frankly, we have no reason to believe he’s orchestrating anything from his prison cell. As for having an accomplice when he was active, it doesn’t fit the profile. As you know, all involved firmly concluded that was not a possibility.”

Vera got the message loud and clear. They were not prepared to go there. “You’re confident this is nothing more than a copycat.”

Sure made life a lot easier for MPD.

“Yes,” Will hastened to confirm. “What we’ve heard so far has all the earmarks of a copycat.”

Bent said nothing; instead, he waited for Vera to say what was on her mind.

“Sheriff Benton”—she paused to see if he wanted to speak instead; when he made no effort to stop her, she went on—“and I will proceed under the assumption that we’re dealing with the Messenger’s accomplice or surrogate, and we would appreciate any assistance the two of you can provide from there.”

“Is that your plan, Sheriff?” Will countered.

Vera silently steamed at the question. The man was her former boss. They had worked together for thirteen years. That he would question her analysis this way was infuriating.

“Vera is the expert in this case,” Bent said, his eyes still steady on her. “Whatever she says goes.”

“Very well,” Will agreed, though he didn’t sound agreeable. “We will send a liaison to keep the communication open between our office and yours.”

“If you feel that’s necessary,” Bent said with loads of “don’t bother” indifference. “But I think we’ve got it under control in terms of manpower.”

God, she really appreciated him backing her up. Almost made her feel guilty for not being completely honest with him this morning about Nolan. Almost.

“Eric Jones will be there by the end of the day.”

Her former boss’s announcement sent a shock wave through Vera.

“We appreciate your keeping us informed, Sheriff Benton,” Will went on, “and we believe you’ll find Eric a true asset.”

This would not work!

“Will,” Vera argued, purposely using her former boss’s nickname, “it’s not necessary to send Eric here. He and I can coordinate on the phone. I’m aware just how busy he is. No need to interrupt his work.”

“We,” her former boss challenged, “do feel it’s necessary.”

Bent held up a hand for her benefit. “Send him. As long as he doesn’t step on any toes, we’re good.”

Vera pretty much zoned out for the rest of the call. She considered Eric a good friend, and he would unquestionably be an asset. But ... to have him here with Bent. It just felt wrong.

“Vee.”

She snapped from her distracting thoughts. She hadn’t realized the call had ended. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about ... the case.”

“Who is Eric Jones?”

This felt really, really wrong.

“He’s an analyst.” To call him a mere analyst seemed offensive. “He started out in forensics, but his ability to find information no one else could garnered him the attention of the top brass, and they moved him into more of an intelligence position. He has a knack for finding things. It’s uncanny. Anyway, we worked together closely at times. There’s no denying he could be useful to our investigation.” She might as well get past the awkward feeling. “In fact, I would say we can fully trust his allegiance to our investigation. Eric does not play politics.”

There, she’d gotten it all out ... except the part about the two of them having a thing.

Bent nodded slowly. “Sounds as if you know him well.”

She smiled, ordered the strange arrhythmia in her chest to settle. “I know him well, yes.”

A flash of something darkened Bent’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for Vera to analyze it.

“You trust him.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

Vera’s cell vibrated, making her jump. She’d left it tucked in her back pocket. She dragged it out, checked the screen. Teresa Russ. “I have to take this.”

Saved by the bell twice already this morning. How lucky was she?

Then again, depending on what Russ had to say, she might not be lucky at all.

She tapped Accept Call and said “One moment” to her caller. Vera grabbed her coat and bag. “Talk to you later,” she said to Bent.

“Noon,” he said as she backed toward the door. “Here.” He pointed to his desk. “We need to review all we have so far before your friend arrives.”

“I’ll be here,” she promised.

Vera rushed out the door and through Myra’s office before pressing the phone back to her ear. “Sorry about that. I was in a meeting.”

“I understand. No problem.” A sigh whispered over the line. “Honestly, Vera, I feel like we should do this in person.”

Vera agreed, no matter that the other woman’s statement put her further on edge. “You’re right. We should. Are you available now?”

With Bent’s demand that she be back in his office at noon, she didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. Unless, of course, she put the meeting with Russ off until later this afternoon, and she did not want to wait any longer than necessary. This was one thing she needed to get done ASAP.

“I can be available in about an hour. Does that work for you?”

“Sure. Your office?” That meant a drive to Huntsville. So not what she wanted to do this morning. Not with all that was going on here.

“How about I meet you in Hazel Green at ten? That’s a lot closer for you, and I’m in a meeting close by, so it works for me.”

Much better. “Name the place.”

“There’s a coffee shop, Jackie’s, right on the highway just past the Taco Bell. They always have the best donuts.”

Vera grimaced. The idea of another donut made her stomach roil. “See you there.”

She hurried to her SUV and climbed in. Guilt had her waiting until she was out of the parking lot—thus not staring at Bent’s office—before calling Eve.

“Make it fast,” her sister griped, “I’m working.”

Vera imagined her hunkered over a corpse— excuse me, a visitor. “Russ called. I’m meeting her at ten.”

“How did she sound?” Eve lowered her voice, as if she feared the corpse was listening.

Vera shook her head. “She sounded like she always sounds.”

“So you couldn’t tell if she knows or suspects something.”

She shouldn’t do this, but Eve was getting on her last nerve. “She did say that she felt we should talk in person.”

The silence that followed warned that Vera had made a mistake.

“This is good,” she hurried to add. “If we talk in person, there’s no record. We can come to an agreement.”

“’Kay. Let me know what she says as soon as you’re done talking.”

“I will.” Her sister was really worried. Damn it. “Don’t worry, Eve. We’ve got this.”

“I know. Talk to you later.”

Vera tossed her phone onto the passenger seat. What was one more lie this morning? On top of that, Eric was coming. Today.

Why did it all have to happen at once?