Page 21 of Closer Than You Know (Vera Boyett #2)

Jackie’s Coffee Shack

US Route 231/431, Hazel Green, 10:00 a.m.

Teresa Russ waited at a table as far away from the entrance of the little coffee shop as could be gotten. Russ was an attractive woman, sixty, blond, and trim. Vera waved to her before going to the counter for a bottle of water.

Between the sugar and caffeine she’d already consumed, she was literally vibrating. She figured the additional adrenaline charge still rushing through her veins from Russ’s call wasn’t helping either.

Vera thanked the barista, grabbed her bottle, and headed for the table.

“I appreciate,” Vera said as she settled into a chair, “you meeting me.”

“No problem.” Teresa took a breath. The vibrant blue sweater she wore highlighted the lighter blue of her eyes. “I suppose we should get straight to the point.”

Vera twisted the top from her water bottle. “Never helps anyone to beat around the bush,” she agreed. Especially if the bush is on fire.

“Norton Gates.” Russ stared at the latte in her stoneware mug. “How he wound up in that cave just kept haunting me.”

The bastard had haunted far too many people even before he was murdered.

“Meaning,” Vera prompted, her stomach twisted into one big, writhing knot.

“I couldn’t get right with the idea that someone might be wondering what had happened to Gates. Obviously he was someone’s son, perhaps a brother or father or husband.”

Vera wanted to feel sympathy, but she just couldn’t work it up, so she said nothing, waited for Russ to continue.

“I started digging.”

Those three words unsettled Vera inordinately.

“Of course, he had been all those things—except for the father part,” Russ went on. “His parents had passed away, and his wife had divorced him years before he disappeared. The ex-wife basically made it clear that she hated him and was glad he was dead.” Russ shook her head. “He had no real friends that I could find. No colleagues who appeared to care one way or the other.”

A new kind of anticipation started to build inside Vera. Still, she kept her mouth shut and let the other woman talk.

“What I did find,” the savvy PI said then, “was more than a dozen women who had been abused by Norton Gates.”

Vera’s heart bumped hard against her sternum. “Really?”

Anyone who actually looked would have found the same thing. The trouble was, for all those years that the bastard took advantage of his position as a professor at a respected college, no one wanted to talk about it. Either the victims refused to go to the authorities, or those who threatened to do so were scared off with a warning of dire consequences. Typical bullshit assholes like Gates had gotten away with it all through history.

“He used his position,” Russ went on, “to prod sexual favors from his students. If the college had known, he would have been fired immediately. But no one ever dared to tell. Not even the two colleagues I believe, based on my interviews with them, suspected his predilection.”

Happened all the time. It was disgusting and despicable. “That’s terrible,” Vera commented. “Just terrible.”

Russ waited, as if she expected Vera to say more, but she knew better. Never say more than necessary was her motto. It was sure to come back and bite you in the ass.

“But one student fought back.”

Vera went completely still inside. Her thought processes, even the need to breathe, seemed to pause.

“I think you know her,” Russ said with a pointed look at Vera. “Suri Khatri. She lives in Fayetteville. She’s a mortician, like your sister Eve. In fact, they’re friends.”

Vera said nothing. Russ already knew. No point confirming.

“Like the others,” Russ said, her fingers turning the half-empty mug, “Suri had let the incidents with Gates go. She had gotten through the two required classes he taught for her certification and moved on.” Her head angled toward her shoulder as her gaze connected fully with Vera’s. “But then he found her again. You see, the last few years of his life, he’d come face to face with the MeToo movement. Women were no longer allowing him to pressure them into sex. I suppose that’s why he jumped at the opportunity to go after Suri again. He had her pegged as an easy mark.”

Vera forced down a sip of water. “Sounds like your story has a happy ending.”

“I spoke to Suri this morning. That was the meeting I mentioned.”

Apprehension wound its way through Vera. Obviously Eve did not know about this.

“I had tried to talk to her several times, but she avoided me. This time she didn’t. We met at the funeral home where she works, and she told me everything.”

The silence went on for five or so seconds.

“Which was?” Vera prompted. She certainly wasn’t going to offer any scenarios, least of all the one she knew to be the truth.

“Suri told me that she killed Gates when he showed up at her house and tried to rape her.”

Holy shit. Vera blinked ... kept her lips pressed tightly together.

“She also told me about how Eve, your sister, kindly offered to help her hide his body in that cave.”

The urge to scrub at her forehead, where her brain was vibrating ... or to lick her dry lips ... or shift around in her chair was a building, pulsating need. But Vera held perfectly still. She stared directly at the other woman and manufactured a surprised expression. “Wow, that’s some story.”

“Don’t worry,” Russ said, bracing her forearms on the table and leaning closer. “I’m not telling you this because I’m planning to go to the police or somehow use this information to my advantage or the advantage of my business.”

Intrigued now, Vera imitated her move, leaning closer, her arms braced on the table. “Then why are you telling me this story?”

“Because I want you to understand that I get it. Norton Gates was a piece of shit who got exactly what he deserved. Sadly”—she shook her head—“not as soon as he should have. In my opinion, Suri is a hero who did what needed to be done.”

Okay. Vera was on the same page so far.

“The problem is,” Russ said, “Nolan Baker.”

Of course it was Nolan Fucking Baker. Vera inwardly cringed. “You talked to him?”

“No.” Russ shot a look heavenward. “And I will not. As soon as I did some digging around, I realized he was likely not going after this story for the women Norton Gates victimized but for himself. The problem you and I have is, sadly, he’s not going to stop.”

Tell me something I don’t know.

“Yeah, that’s Nolan.” Vera suspected he already knew way too much about the Boyett sisters.

“I’m sure you realize,” Russ went on, “the best way to see that this ends the right way is to get ahead of it and direct the narrative.”

Vera stilled again. She knew exactly where this was going, and as right as Russ was, this was bad for Eve. “You’re suggesting a confession.”

Russ nodded, her face somber. “Suri is a victim. What she did was self-defense. If she goes to the police, I’m guessing—since I know the DAs in both Madison County, Alabama, and in Lincoln County, Tennessee—that she will likely not be charged with anything. No one wants to try a case like this and risk losing support in the court of public opinion. This,” she reiterated, “will protect Suri and anyone else involved from the likes of Nolan Baker.”

Except Suri didn’t kill Gates.

“It’s a risk for her,” Vera argued.

“There’s always risk in a situation like this,” Russ agreed. “But it’s the best scenario if she wants to be able to move on with her life without that cloud hanging over her head.”

“Maybe.” Vera wasn’t saying anything that could be used to prompt Suri to do one thing or the other.

“It’s out of our hands anyway.” Russ leaned back in her chair. “Suri made a decision to confess today.”

Son of a ...

“She told you this,” Vera demanded.

Russ nodded. “Just before you arrived, she sent me a text and said she was at the sheriff’s office. If I were you, I would leave right now and be there for her.”

A knowing look passed between them.

“Thank you for the update.” Vera stood. “Nice seeing you again.”

Vera forced herself to walk out the door and climb into her SUV. She waited until she was driving away from the coffee shop before calling Eve. The call went straight to voicemail.

“Damn it.”

At the next traffic light, Vera googled the number for Barrett’s and put through the call. She had to talk to her sister before she did something based on emotion.

As soon as the call was answered, Vera plowed right over the greeting. “I need to speak with Eve Boyett. It’s an emergency.”

A beat of silence, then, “Vera?”

“Yes, this is her sister. Please, can you get the phone to her? I know she doesn’t like to be disturbed, but this is an emergency.”

“Well, I would, but she’s not here. About fifteen minutes ago she rushed out of here like the place was on fire.”

Oh hell.

“Thanks anyway. I guess she already heard.” Vera ended the call and put through another to her sister’s cell.

No answer.

She stamped down harder on the accelerator. She had to get to Bent’s office.

Why was it that trouble always came in pairs?

For once she would love to be able to handle one problem at a time.

“Christ.” She felt sick.

On top of that, Eric was coming.

“What else?” she groaned. Then she snapped her mouth shut.

As her mother would say, it was never smart to tempt fate.