Page 32 of Closer Than You Know (Vera Boyett #2)

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 2:45 p.m.

Vera watched Eric drive away.

It hadn’t been easy to coax him into leaving, but she’d managed. As soon as they’d arrived, despite the fact that a deputy was watching her house, Eric had insisted on coming inside and searching the place for any hidden intruders. Didn’t matter that her security system had still been armed and every window in the house was screwed shut.

The only reason Bent hadn’t been waiting for her return was because she’d called him on the drive back and filled him in on the meeting and because he had another press conference scheduled at three. He’d wanted her to come to him, but she’d complained that she was far too exhausted. He probably saw right through that story like peering through a screen door. But he’d let it go. He had his hands full—even more so now.

Bent had downloaded a recent photo of Patrick Solomon—who looked eerily like his grandfather had when he was young—and was issuing a BOLO. He would release the photo in his press conference.

On the drive home, Eric had set up a three-way call on his cell phone with Will and Alcott to inform them about Solomon’s latest confession. Alcott was sending an agent familiar with the case to Nashville to be near Palmer Solomon in the event some sort of intervention was needed. He was also contacting someone in London to make an official notification to Patrick’s mother, Pamela, since she refused his calls. She, as well as Christopher, would be under close surveillance. During the same call, Vera had confronted Alcott about Solomon’s claim that he had warned the agent about potential danger to Vera. Alcott had insisted that, at the time, he’d felt certain Solomon was only jockeying for a meeting with Vera one last time before he died.

Vera wasn’t entirely sure she believed Alcott, but it was irrelevant now. There was no time for raising hell. She had a mission that couldn’t wait. Solomon had said his grandson had left a gift—a secret message—somewhere in the house for her. She intended to find it ASAP. If there was any possibility that it could help lead her to Eve, she had to find it. Then she was going to find him.

She went to her bedroom first. It was the most likely place, if he’d left something especially for her. Disgust tasted bitter in her mouth. Sometimes she wondered how she had survived this long with so many monsters in her orbit.

She started in her closet. Didn’t take long. She had donated most of her business wardrobe when she sorted through her stuff from Memphis. Nothing unexpected in the closet. Since there was no carpet, just the old hardwood floor and a few throw rugs, she lifted each one and checked beneath them. Under the bed was next. Between the mattress and box springs, and then she tore the bedding off the mattress, removed sheets and pillowcases. The effort proved futile, as far as her search was concerned. But the scent of the man who’d shared this bed with her less than twenty-four hours ago lingered on the sheets ... the unmistakable smell of their lovemaking had her trembling.

Probably hadn’t been the best move she’d made since returning to Fayetteville. Likely wouldn’t be the worst.

Moving on, she searched all pieces of furniture, shelves, and any little niche that might hold an item.

There was nothing new in her room. She exhaled a big, weary breath.

Why should he make it easy?

From there, she picked methodically through the other upstairs rooms. One by one, including the bathroom.

Back downstairs, she shoved her sheets into the washing machine and then executed the same search, moving from one room to the next. Her mother’s library proved the most difficult. There were literally hundreds of books and dozens of photo albums. Hoping for the easier avenue, she started with the albums.

By the time she was halfway through the pile, she’d sunk to the floor and had photo albums spread all around her. Each album was big and thick and loaded with pages and pages of family pictures. Memories sifted through her, making her heart swell.

It was the eighth one she selected that opened to a nine-by-eleven envelope made of stock brown kraft-style paper with a metal clasp. Her name was scrawled across the front. Anticipation buzzed along her nerve endings. The weight of the envelope warned there was something more inside than a single note.

She unfastened the clasp and removed the contents. On top was the expected note. Beneath it were eight-by-ten photos. The images captured there had her eyes widening in surprise and her breath stalling in her lungs.

Her mother ... naked save for a sheet draped over her from her chest down, lying on a mortuary table. The missing funeral home photos. Vera’s shoulders slumped as her entire being seemed to melt into an invisible puddle of muck. These had been missing last summer when she had tried to find them.

Seven months ago, the former county medical examiner had suggested Vera’s mother was murdered by a family member. The very idea was ludicrous. Their mother was in the final days of a horrible battle with cancer. She’d either fallen asleep or gone unconscious while taking a bath and slipped under the water. It happened far too often to those already feeble from illness and then pumped full of pain drugs.

Except—Vera’s fingers felt stiff and icy as she shuffled through the photos—there were bruises just like the ME had said. The placement of the bruises suggested she’d been held down prior to death. The marks were on her shoulders and just above her breasts ... there was even one near her throat. How ...?

Not possible. There had to be another explanation. The photos had been doctored. Something.

Except the images were right in front of her eyes. The photos slightly yellowed by time. Maybe the bruises were made the day before she died, but how and why and by whom?

This was insane ... completely crazy.

How the hell did Solomon’s grandson, a.k.a. the other half of the Messenger, know about these missing photos? Solomon had to have told him all sorts of things about Vera. Things not known until seven months ago.

Fingers trembling, she picked up the note the piece of shit had left.

Dear Vera,

Found these hidden in your sister’s house. I guess she kept them so she could look back and relish her first kill. Did you know?

Cheers,

Your First Mistake

Rage ripped through her. Yes, apparently the Messenger case was her first big mistake. His pointing this out was only to remind her that the crash and burn of the team she’d helped build was not her first career failure ... it was her second.

But why send her these photos in the middle of his big return to his first career—killing? How was it relevant to what he had planned for her and Eve? Was it just a distraction? A prompt for her to think any less of her sister?

Or a clue?

Vera reshuffled the photos and stuffed them back into the envelope. The bastard’s note went next. It was all she could do not to tear it into a thousand pieces. Then she hid the gift back in the album and hurriedly returned all twelve to their proper shelves.

She drew in a deep, calming breath, smoothed the too-tight skirt, only then remembering she was still wearing it. First, she had to get out of these clothes. The heels had landed somewhere. She found them by the front door. Grabbed the pair of pain-inducing footwear and hurried up the stairs. It was still a little cool outside, so she dressed with that in mind. Jeans, thick socks, and a tee, along with a sweatshirt. She snagged a baseball cap and tugged it into place. Downstairs she found her sneakers and pulled them on.

She had searched the house. There was nothing else related to the Messenger to find. He’d come into her house at least once, maybe twice before she’d screwed the windows shut. Palmer Solomon had said his grandson had been watching her for months. Since Christmas possibly. So he could have come in numerous times she didn’t know about. But why wait so long to make a move?

The whole thing made no sense. Did it really take him that long to prepare? Maybe so. He’d spent weeks, sometimes months watching his other victims. The amount of time spent might be a part of his process. All serial killers had processes—MOs. A way of doing things from which they rarely deviated.

Then again, maybe he’d just been rusty.

In any event, he would have carefully chosen where to keep Eve—which was Vera’s biggest problem at the moment. Baker had been nothing more than a teaser, requiring far less preparation. Most likely he’d been merely an opportunity that arose from the fake Time Thief business. Eve was the one he would use to hurt Vera. Worry and hatred welled inside her. For Vera he would have planned extensively.

This farm was where she and Eve had grown up. Where they’d played as children. Lived and lost and survived. This was where their mother had died and then, not even two years later, their stepmother had taken her last breath, here in this very house.

Bent had people searching Fayetteville and the surrounding area. There were official searches with county and city law enforcement personnel as well as civilians in the community simply checking their own property and that of their immediate neighbors’. During this morning’s press conference, Bent had urged folks to check in on their neighbors, particularly the elderly or otherwise vulnerable. To report any suspicious activity in or near abandoned homes or buildings.

The whole county was on alert.

But the evil could be right here on her farm. No matter that Bent had searched the farm. Not once but twice. After the message was left in her house and then again after Eve was taken. But no one was looking here now. Which was likely exactly what the bastard had wanted. Executing his plan here would be in keeping with his previous MO of leaving his victims in a location relevant to their lives. He’d left Nolan at Vera’s barn because this farm was relevant to Vera, and Nolan’s abduction had been about her, not the young reporter.

Anticipation funneling through her, Vera grabbed a coat and a flashlight and headed for the door. She’d just gotten down the front steps when the deputy currently assigned to surveillance duty approached.

“Is everything all right, ma’am?”

“I need to have a look around the property.”

Deputy Mitchell, according to his name tag, glanced about the yard. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, ma’am. Why don’t I call the sheriff and run it past him? It would be better if you stayed inside.”

“Call him,” she agreed. “But I’m having a look around.”

She started around back, taking her time to really look at the house ... the landscape ... everything. It hadn’t rained lately, and the snow had all melted quickly, the moisture immediately absorbed into the dry ground. There was no chance of tracks. A quick peek in the potting shed and well house revealed nothing out of place—just like the last time she’d looked. Had that been yesterday or the day before? Time had blurred into one long stream of consciousness.

The barn was her next destination. Mitchell was right behind her as he ended his call to Bent.

By the time she reached the barn on foot, Bent had pulled up in his truck. He’d taken the narrow dirt road just past the house that led directly to the barn.

That was fast, she decided, even for him. He must have already been en route.

Deputy Mitchell headed back to the house.

Vera entered the barn without a backward glance. She was on a mission. Bent could either join her or wait for her to finish. Her sister was in trouble, and she would do whatever necessary to help her.

“This was the first place I had my deputies look when Eve went missing and we didn’t find her in the vicinity of Suri’s house.”

Vera glanced at him through the building gloom. It would be dark soon. “I know. But I need to do this.”

“All right.” He climbed the ladder and checked the loft while she poked around the lower level.

It only took a few minutes to confirm there was nothing to find. Nothing out of place. Defeat tugged at her, but she refused to give up.

Her grip tightened on the flashlight. “Did they look in the cave?” The thought of going in that damned hole in the ground had her stomach cramping.

“They did. But we can look again if you feel the need.”

Need. That was the reason they’d ended up in bed together last night. Flashes from those moments whispered through her head, sent heat searing through her. The idea that Eve had been taken around that same time ripped her heart to shreds.

“I do,” she said, “feel the need.” She moistened her lips. She needed this relationship—the friend and professional one—between them to work out, and now she feared she had screwed that up by surrendering to that more intimate need.

Worse, she may have lost her sister. Agony ached through her bones. No way. Nope. She would not allow that to happen.

He nodded. “I’ll get my flashlight from the truck.”

She followed him outside the barn and waited while he went to his truck. From there they walked through the woods, picking their way through the underbrush. Didn’t matter that it would be dark soon; muscle memory would have guided her along the overgrown path even if Bent hadn’t been leading the way.

“Have you checked out the old hospital?” she asked. Baker had been abducted from there by this piece of shit. But if the grandson was anything like the grandfather, he was like lightning and never struck in the same place twice.

“We did. As well as the shack on McDeal Road and at the funeral home.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Any place else you’ve thought of that I might have missed?”

“The high school Eve and I attended.” There were two high schools in Fayetteville now, but there had been only one back then.

“Done already.”

She tried to think of any place this resurrected Messenger could hole up in that meant something to her or to Eve. “At the park, under the bridge?”

“Yep. Checked the cemetery too.”

Vera racked her brain for other options. “What about that bar where she used to hang out before she got clean? The one just off Lincoln Avenue that’s closed now. All boarded up.”

“Checked there too. And the church where she goes to AA meetings.”

So far it sounded as if he’d thought of everything. But Patrick Solomon had to be someplace. God, she hated this shit ... hated that she had brought this to her family.

No losing it yet, Vee.

They reached the clearing where the mouth of that cave rose out of the ground like an enormous eyebrow.

“You want me to go first?” he asked.

“I do.” Otherwise he’d be staring at her ass until she crawled through on her hands and knees. God, she was so tired.

He removed his hat and placed it on a nearby boulder, then dropped to his knees. He lit the flashlight and tossed it through the opening before crawling inside.

Vera went next. Once she was deep enough inside, he offered his hand, giving her an assist to her feet. She swiped her knees, then turned on her own flashlight.

More of those echoes from the past whispered through her. Before, when they were just little kids, she and Eve had come here to play. They hadn’t known all the secrets this cave held at the time—at least Vera hadn’t. Years later this was the place they had used to stash their stepmother’s body. The sound of infant Luna wailing reverberated in her ears. She shivered at the memories. She really had hoped to never come in here again.

They studied the ground and the walls to ensure there was nothing new. Beyond the graffiti, of course. Teenagers had sneaked onto the property and left ugly words and drawings. Vera ignored them. Her family members were now the most infamous residents of Lincoln County. She’d been inundated with requests for tours of the cave and surrounding woods back during Halloween.

She’d considered having the mouth of the cave walled up with brick or concrete. Maybe she would when this new level of insanity was over.

After twenty minutes of careful examination, it was clear there was nothing new inside this big hole in the ground. Bent had checked the second, deeper chamber. Vera had declined that adventure.

When they were outside once more, he picked up his hat and asked, “Have you eaten today?”

The way he looked at her—as if he might hug her—had her bracing to run. If he touched her ... she might just fall apart. She could not do that under any circumstances. Not until she found Eve ... not until she took care of that bastard.

Instead, she lifted her chin and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. How could she think about food right now? “Eric forced me to eat a burger on the way back from Nashville.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Bent said as he made his way back toward the barn.

Having moved past the denser area, they were able to walk side by side. Vera glanced at him. “He is a very nice guy.”

“You still have feelings for him?”

Now there was the question he’d really wanted to ask. At a time like this? Jesus. She swallowed back the whale of emotions. “As a dear friend, yes. He’s in a serious relationship now. Her name is Anna.”

Bent glanced at her. “Good for him.”

“Yeah, good for him and Anna.” Eric would be a wonderful husband, and father, if the latter was the route they chose to take.

When she and Bent reached her house, he followed her inside. It would be full-on dark soon. The idea that they still had no idea where Eve was churned in her belly, twisted in her chest. Please, please let her be okay.

Poor Eve would likely be pissed as hell at the bastard who’d taken her. And worried sick about Suri.

“Suri is staying with Mr. Hurst,” Bent explained, as if she’d said the thought aloud. “He and his wife insisted when they heard what had happened.”

Vera was surprised. The Hurst family had always seemed a bit standoffish. In light of Suri’s confession, Vera was actually stunned he hadn’t fired her. Hurst was the biggest funeral home service in the county. Like most businesses, reputation was immensely important.

“Good.” She scrubbed at her forehead, realizing she was still wearing the damned makeup. “I should call Luna. Make sure she’s okay.”

Bent hitched his head toward her living room. “I have some calls to make. After that, you mind if I catch a quick nap on your couch?”

She was confident that, like her, he hadn’t slept much if at all since the night before last. After downing that hamburger, she’d actually dozed once or twice on the way back from Nashville.

Funny how the exhaustion and the rumpled clothes looked so good on him. Oh well. No one knew better than her that Bent would look good wearing mud.

“Sure.” She caught herself before she suggested he take her room. Particularly since she had stripped the linens off the bed. He would immediately think of last night. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

She hurried away. First, she moved her sheets to the dryer, then she grabbed a wad of paper towels and washed her face. She needed a shower after spending time with Solomon in that prison.

But she refused to get naked again with Bent in the house.

Instead, she made that call to Luna to check on her, and then she rounded up a pen and pad. She sat down with a cup of coffee to start analyzing what she knew about Solomon’s grandson and the moves the two had made during the ten murders of which the authorities were aware. If she could create an accurate profile ... she might just be able to figure out where he had taken Eve.

Hang in there, sis! I’m coming for you.