Page 39 of Deeper Than the Dead

Her stomach reminded her she needed food. She hadn’t bothered with breakfast, and it was lunchtime already. “Sure.” She took a breath. “Where do you live now?”

Before, he’d still lived in his father’s house. At least that had been his official address. Truth was, he was rarely there, and knowing his father, she could understand why.

“I’m over on Old Molino.” He provided the number that went with the road.

“I’ll head that way.” Vera knew the address. She’d never been to the home there, but one of the girls in her AP English class sophomore year had gotten off the school bus at that location.

“Good. See you in a few.”

Benton Ranch

Old Molino Road, Fayetteville, 1:30 p.m.

The driveway was at least half a mile long. It wound through the trees, finally coming to an end at the house, which overlooked a pasture that was more like a meadow and absolutely stunning. Two horses grazed in the distance where the pasture spread toward the woods.

This was not what she had expected at all.

Vera turned back to the house. More a cottage. Not too small, but certainly not large. Stone and timber. It could have been lifted from a scene in the Cotswolds of England and placed on this hillside. Blooming vines grew over the stone portion of the wall in front. A small porch was tucked neatly on the other side. A gray metal roof highlighted the gray in the stone.

The extensive landscaping had to have been here already. Her mind simply refused to see Bent clipping hedges and fertilizing blooming shrubs. She climbed out of her SUV and closed the door. The sun bore down on her, amplifying the muggy heat and prompting her toward the shady porch. The house was surrounded by massive trees. Their broad reach provided generous protection from the sun. The soft fragrances of the variety of shrubs and perennial flowers drifted in the air and reminded her of her mother’s gardens.

On the porch was a bench. A pair of mucking boots sat next to it. Men’s. Vera turned and peered toward the horses. In the tree line, almost completely camouflaged, was a barn. She surveyed the yard for a UTV. Had to be one in the detached garage, which looked more like an old-fashioned carriage house. If not, that was one heck of a long walk to the barn every morning and every evening. Then again, Bent looked quite fit. Maybe he liked the walk. Or maybe he jogged to the barn and back twice a day. The notion reminded her that the only working out she’d done since her arrival was the emotional kind.

Vera shook her head and lowered onto the bench. This whole situation felt surreal.

She was back home in small-town Tennessee—after her career crashed and burned—to try to head off any trouble related to the body she and her sister had hidden twenty-two years ago. And the man who had been her first lover was in charge of the investigation.

How was that for one hell of a twist of fate?

The crackling sound of gravel beneath tires drew her attention to the long driveway, as Bent’s truck rolled into sight. Vera drank in the view: the horses meandering through lush grass, the trees standing sentinel, the sweeping drive. It was really the quintessential country setting.

How had Bent ended up here?

This setting simply didn’t fit with the man she knew.

But the fact was, she didn’t really know him. Not anymore. She hadn’t known him since she was a kid, and he’d barely been more than one himself. They were different people now. She surveyed the yard. This was his grown-up life.

She thought of her Central Gardens town house in Memphis. She had all the amenities and convenience that city living could provide. But she would never have this kind of view. Would never smell the sweet, clean scent of this air in the city.

She exiled the thoughts. She didn’t want this. The city was her home.

Her career with MPD might be over, but her life was still in Memphis or someplace like it.

She thought of Eve and Luna and her daddy. The past was here ... the people she loved were here. But there was no coming back to stay. That possibility just wasn’t an option. The mere thought made her restless.

As if fate had wanted to prove her wrong, Bent emerged from his truck, and her heart skipped at least one beat.

Vera almost laughed out loud. Oh. Dear. God. She was not in love or anything else with Bent. Maybe she once was—as a kid. More likely what they’d shared was mutual need ... equal measures desperation and lust.

A huge difference.

And she wasn’t a teenager anymore.

He climbed the three steps and gave her a nod. “Thanks for coming.”

She glanced at the bag in his hand. The logo from the town’s most popular slaw-burger café had her stomach sending stronger hunger messages.

“Nice place.” She stood, swept her gaze across the landscape once more. “I wouldn’t have guessed you for a farm sort of guy.”

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